With this thought, strength came into her and, as he drew nearer, she kicked out, landing her foot in his groin. His cries frightened her, but she could only do one thing – run for all she was worth.

She didn’t stop until she was within sight of her gate. Leaning over a neighbour’s fence, she gasped for breath. Tears soaked her face. They weren’t all for herself, but for her dear friend. That Mags should be marrying such a man didn’t bear thinking about. And what of the future? Will I have to leave me job?

With an extreme effort, Betsy wiped away her tears. Composing herself, she took a deep breath. She’d go and snuggle up to her Bill. He is worth all of them as could give me more than Bill can, and I love him enough to do without that.

Even as she thought this, she knew that denying what Mr Roford had awoken in her was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever been called upon to do.

Chapter Six

Waking after a restless sleep, Mags kicked off the covers, shivered and pulled them back over her. The window was open, and a chorus of birdsong drifted into her room. It was a sound that usually gave her a happy start to the day, but as she stretched herself, she felt anything but happy.

Harold’s anger at her, and his callous remark about getting around any problems that stopped him having his way with her, had stayed with her, and she hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind that she was simply a means to an end.

This was compounded at breakfast when her father told her that Harold had left early. ‘He left you a note, darling. It’s on the sideboard. It seems he suddenly felt he needed to go to London to finalize something to do with the house, before the wedding was upon him.’

Father’s gaze held hers and Mags cringed, as it seemed to be all-knowing. Getting up, she walked over to the sideboard, her legs feeling like jelly, her heart heavy in her chest.

The note was sealed in an envelope and lay on a silver salver alongside a paper-knife. At least Daddy hasn’t read it! That’s a relief, though his look seemed to say that he knows what is going on.

The sound of the paper-knife slitting open the envelope grated on her fraught nerves. Am I always to be blackmailed in this way? Oh God, if only I didn’t love Harold so much – and need him. Yes, that is it. I need Harold. Want his love, and his lovemaking; and, yes, his company, but without all the shackles that go with it – the doubts, the veiled threats and the feeling that I have to do his bidding at all times.

There was no endearment to begin the note:

Something came up; sorry, had to leave early – long drive ahead of me. Be back the day before our wedding. Maybe you can do some thinking about your actions last night, before then?