‘We’re going round and round and getting nowhere. Yes, I set this house up in a grand manner, but it was solely with the intention of selling it. I – I told you that would happen, once Susan was able to cope. Butlers always defer to anyone who seems to hold a position in the house, and London demands more than Blackburn does, by way of saleable property. Those who have money want to live in an opulent way. An establishment that is already set up is a very good prospect. Anyway, if it makes you feel any better, I have to sell. I’ve really stretched myself financially, in more ways than one.’

So now I know the real reason I am still in the picture. I am a way out for Harold. He needs me, for what I can provide. Mags would have liked it if what he was saying could be true, but she doubted that he loved her in the way he said he did.

Could she live with that? The pull of Harold was so strong that she knew she could, if he gave up Susan for good. She was about to tell him this, when a commotion in the hall got them both standing up. The door was flung open and a distraught man of similar age to her burst in, followed by the very flustered butler. ‘I tried to stop him entering the house, sir, but he pushed by me.’

‘I must speak with you, Roford, it iz important.’

Harold paled alarmingly. His mouth gaped open and his stance told of his fear. The man didn’t move, but looked from her to Harold. Mags had the feeling that her presence had stopped him in his tracks. For a moment it was as if they were all suspended in time, and no one knew what the next move should be.

Mags couldn’t take her eyes off the intruder. His accent told her that he was French. Something about him was magnetic. She found her gaze drawn to his strong physique and his coal-black eyes, framed by thick eyebrows. Her voice didn’t sound like her own as she asked, ‘Who are you, and how can we help you?’

His tone wasn’t aggressive as he answered, ‘It iz that I need to speak to Mr Roford alone, Mademoiselle. What I have to say iz somezing we men should not discuss in front of a lady.’

Enlightenment dawned on her. ‘You’re Susan’s husband, aren’t you?’

‘You know about them? And yet you are the lady he iz to marry?’

This seemed to give Harold life as he shouted, ‘Yes, she is, and you have no business here. Get out!’

‘Monsieur, I’m not going until we have spoken. I cannot see Suzan hurt in thiz way.’

‘What is it to you, Charvet? You only took refuge with her; you don’t love her – never have – and she doesn’t love you.’

‘Monsieur, Montel Charvet is my name. And yes, our marriage iz of the convenience, but still I care deeply for Suzan and cannot tolerate your treatment of her. She loves you. You have promized her so much. And now you say you are leaving? We had agreed that we would divorce, and you are not holding your side of zee bargain.’