‘I rather thought you might,’ he said, laughter in his voice. He let go of her hands, turning and opening the front door of the shop and stepping down into the icy, deserted street, whereupon he made his way to the horse and trap and removed the blanket from the patiently waiting animal. Once he had climbed up into the seat, he waved to her where she stood in the shop doorway and then clicked at the horse to trot on.

Rose watched him until he disappeared in the darkness but didn’t immediately go inside although the night was bitterly cold. Did fate really hold all the cards for a human life in her hands? she thought. If so, she could be monstrously unkind from birth. Why should one child be born into disease and poverty, and another into grandeur and riches? And if life was mapped out from an infant’s first breath, did that mean there was no point trying to change things or better oneself? No, she didn’t believe that. If she did she would still be back in Sunderland and probably tied to Nathaniel. Like she had said to Alexander, it was a comfortable philosophy, especially for the powerful and wealthy. It meant they could enjoy their existence without giving a fig for the injustice and misery that went on, especially for the poor. Was Alexander like that?

And then she immediately refuted the idea. No, no, he wasn’t. She was over-thinking what he had said.

Slamming the door on her thoughts, she went back inside the warmth of the shop, the familiar delicious scents of bread and cakes and biscuits enveloping her.

Once back in the flat she checked on Betsy who was sound asleep, one small hand under her face and her chestnut curls spread out on the pillow. She was so beautiful it made Rose’s heart ache, and again a stab of panic rent her through. Their life was secure and happy and predictable – what was she doing allowing Alexander into it? When it became apparent she was walking out with him the ensuing gossip might be kept behind closed doors – especially after her notice in the shop window and the fact that no one would want to get on the wrong side of the Bembridges, who wielded a great deal of influence – but nevertheless, it would still go on. What if Betsy was affected by it? Upset in some way?

She crept out of the bedroom and once in the sitting room sank down into an armchair. Everything in her said it would be a mistake to go with him to Scotland, a mistake of momentous proportions, but she was still going to go. She shook her head at herself, making a small sound in her throat. She wanted a few days with him to remember for the rest of her life.