Patricia smiled modestly. ‘Apparently my looks count for a great deal and I have a sweet voice, so I was told.’

‘What did Mama say to that?’

‘I think she was pleased. It’s so hard to tell, but she said of course it was natural that one of her daughters should have inherited some of her talent.’

‘Then perhaps that’s what you should do. You won’t know if the life suits you until you try.’

‘Yes, I agree. I’m going to the rehearsal this morning, so I won’t be able to come with you anyway.’

‘I’ll tell Bertie. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to think you’ve found your niche.’

Patricia rolled her eyes. ‘No, he won’t. He’ll tease me endlessly, but I don’t care. Perhaps I’ll be the next star of the opera world.’

‘Mama definitely won’t like that.’ Rosalind glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantelshelf. ‘Shouldn’t you be at the theatre? If you’re going to take part in the morning rehearsal, that is.’

‘You’re right. I must dash.’ Patricia seized her bonnet and shawl. She left the drawing room in a flurry of lace petticoats.

Minutes later a hackney carriage drew up outside the house and Rosalind took a deep breath. She tried desperately to supress the feeling, but the butterflies in her stomach and the thudding of her heart against her stays made it impossible. She knew it was ridiculous, she was a happily married woman who would soon become a mother, and yet she was as excited as a young girl about to attend her first ball. However, she managed to maintain a calm exterior as she stepped out onto the pavement.

Bertie leaped out of the cab. ‘You look blooming today, Rosie. It must be the hint of spring in the air that’s brought the colour to your cheeks.’ He helped her into the cab, but it was Colonel Munday who was seated opposite her, not Alex.

‘Good morning, Mrs Blanchard.’ He tipped his hat. ‘You’ll excuse me if I don’t stand. I’m afraid I would go straight through the roof.’

She relaxed instantly. ‘Please don’t do that, Colonel. I don’t think the cabby would be amused.’

Bertie climbed in and sat down beside her. He thumped on the roof and the cab moved off into the traffic. ‘We’re meeting Alex at Wiltons in Jermyn Street. I have a fancy for a dozen oysters for luncheon. What about you, Colonel?’

‘I can’t think of anything I’d like more. What about you, Mrs Blanchard? Do you like shellfish?’