“Sir Hugh Falmouth?” I repeat, startled. Even I’ve heard of that Sir Hugh. His paintings hang in the National Gallery; we’ve got books about him in the library at Langton.

Klaus nods. “He is an old friend of Filomena’s, I believe. He was caught up with Lady Bowling in Milan somehow, and Leo brought the pair of them back with him. I understand he has been resting after the journey.” Klaus’s eyes light with amusement. “I believe your uncle considers his visit quite the social coup.”

In fact, Uncle Leo has been strutting around with the self-satisfaction of a peacock and this does rather explain that.

“Gosh, even Mother and Father will be impressed when I tell them.” It will, I think, be something about this trip I can actually share with them. “But why doesn’t Ben like him?” I ask, puzzled.

“There is a history between them,” Klaus says. “I don’t know exactly what.”

“I can’t believe I’ll get to meet Hugh Falmouth,” I say wonderingly.

“Well, brace yourself,” Klaus whispers, his lips close to my ear. “He’s coming this way right now.”

I follow Klaus’s eyes and see that Filomena is approaching, her hand tucked into the crook of a man’s arm. He looks about sixty and his hair is completely white, swept back from a high forehead. There is a roguish twinkle in his blue eyes. A silver-topped cane is hooked over the arm that isn’t holding Filomena, though he moves easily, jauntily even. He must have been startlingly handsome in his youth, and he still has a commanding presence. He is dressed impeccably in a light evening suit, and as I watch, he leans in close to Filomena to say something to her, something which makes a languorous smile break out on her lips. My uncle follows behind the two of them with Hero at his side. He is beaming from ear to ear.

“Ah, Beatrice!” Leo booms. “There you are!” He insinuates himself between Filomena and the dapper gentleman. “Sir Hugh, allow me to present my niece, Beatrice Langton – of the Northumberland Langtons.”

It’s such a strange, formal introduction that I hesitate, not quite sure how to respond. It feels like I’m being presented in an Austen novel, like I should curtsey.

“My dear.” Sir Hugh solves the problem by stepping forward and taking my hand. “What a delight to meet you.”

“Sir Hugh,” I murmur.

“It’s silly, isn’t it?” The man himself chuckles, squeezing my fingers. “This Sir Hugh business – but I’m afraid after the knighthood some rather shameless young friends of mine began calling me that and then it stuck.” I look down at my hand in his. He has lovely hands, I notice, neatly manicured and graceful.

“And these are the other young people we have staying with us,” Filomena says, “Klaus and Ursula.”

“More of Filomena’s artists,” Leo puts in.