‘Daddy will have retired now. He said his goodnights. We can safely go to my rooms. I will serve you a nightcap in my sitting room and we can chat for a while.’

‘It’s not chatting that I want to do.’

His half-smile, and the touch of his hand on her bottom, saw Mags forgiving him, and clenching herself to contain the feeling that was pulsing through her. She smiled back and turned towards the stairs. Betsy appeared at that moment and, for the first time, irritated Mags. Mrs Potts would never be seen at such a moment, if she could avoid it.

‘I’ve put a nice hot cup of cocoa in your room, sir. This way.’ Her bobbing up and down released any annoyance that Mags felt. She giggled and then told Betsy she didn’t have to worry, as Mr Roford knew where his room was and would retire there when he was ready. ‘But thank you for your concern and your thoughtfulness, Betsy. Goodnight.’

Then, to her extreme embarrassment, Harold said in a loud voice, ‘Good God! Who was that?’

‘Our new housekeeper.’

‘What! Well, she can go – and before I move in. What were you thinking, employing such a person? How very intrusive she was. You should have hauled her over the coals, not giggled at her – you will encourage her.’

‘Betsy is learning the job. She is very good in many ways. We have known each other since we were children, so she’s finding it difficult to be subservient.’ Not that I want her to be, as she is my lovely friend, but I will have to teach her a few things. Oh, Betsy!

‘Well, at least she’s good to look at. But make sure you get her in check, darling.’

Good to look at – not the kind of remark a soon-to-be-husband should be making! However, Mags had to admit that he was right. Betsy was a striking-looking woman, with a figure to envy, despite birthing three children. Her waist was tiny, giving prominence to both her large breasts and her rounded hips – features that were enhanced by her uniform, which was a long, plain grey frock, held in by a wide belt. Her mop cap sat prettily on her chestnut curls, taming them at the front, leaving her forehead bare and taking nothing away from her very large blue eyes and oval face. Add to this her happy disposition, and Betsy could turn any man’s head.

As she thought this, Mags felt a jealous pang touch her heart when she noticed Harold giving a backward glance at the receding figure of Betsy, who was gliding towards the kitchen area.

But then Harold reaching up to take hold of her hand banished that feeling, as did him catching up with her and pressing her against the banister. ‘Forget her for now. We have more urgent things to think about.’ He leaned further into her and Mags could sense his need. Part of her was repulsed as a feeling of being used descended on her, but other sensations crashed in and she responded to his kiss. A door clicking shut made her jump.