“And very interesting it is,” Sir Hugh breaks in here. While we have been talking, he has been examining Ben’s paintings closely. “Quite a fresh approach, Benedick. This is promising.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ben says quietly.

“Well,” Uncle Leo says, looking around anxiously. It strikes me that he enjoys pleasing people, and that in our current group there is no possible response that will appease everyone. “Perhaps we should return to the party.”

But as he speaks we are joined by other guests and one draws Ben aside to talk about his work. Leo takes the opportunity to pull my hand through the crook of his arm. I am still frozen, barely able to take in what has just happened – the way a perfect golden scene has been so shattered.

I look back at Ben, and it’s as if a door has closed.

“Ben—” I start to say.

“You should go, Beatrice,” he says, and I think only I hear the harsh note in his voice. “I wouldn’t want to do anything to further compromise your reputation.”

His face is a smiling mask, as he turns to speak to the newcomers, answering their questions and accepting their enthusiastic praise, and I am left reeling by his coldness.

“It looks as though Ben is getting on very well,” my uncle says, in what I think is supposed to be a comforting tone. He pats my hand. “Best for everyone that he focuses on his work, eh?”

By now we’re back at the centre of the party, and the music is still skittering through the air, its cheerfulness at odds with my own emotional turmoil.

“My dance, I think,” says a voice, and in a daze, I twirl into another pair of arms, trying to ignore the hollow ache in my chest.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The next morning, I lie in bed, trying to organize my thoughts. Clearly things with Ben have reached some sort of turning point that needs to be addressed. It’s no use being cowardly about it, I realize; it is time to face up to my own feelings.

The experiment has been over for me for a while – what is happening now, as far as I’m concerned, is very real. But does Ben feel the same? I frown. He hasn’t said so – not in so many words – but I think he does. With a pang I remember the rules we established, the last being that I must not fall in love with him. A qualm of doubt passes through me. Finally, I decide that I simply can’t take it any more and run down the stairs to find him.

A raised voice from the drawing room causes me to stop. It is Ursula, I realize, and she sounds upset.