‘But maybe I’ll wait until he comes home. I don’t think it’s the sort of news that I could put in a letter, and I do want to make sure that Tommy is his child before I tell him.’

‘What will you do? Will you tell Piers?’

‘I don’t know, Hester. I haven’t had time to think it through. For the moment it’s probably best that we continue as we have been doing, but I’ll go to Exeter to check the baptismal records when I have a chance.’

Hester sighed. ‘It’s a secret I’ve kept for so long. However, I should tell you that Tommy looks just like Bertie did at that age. I saw it when you brought him home, but some things are better left in the past and so I didn’t like to say anything.’

‘If Tommy really is Bertie’s son then he’s part of the family and that is very important. I’m not allowing Trimble anywhere near him.’

‘When you go to Exeter I’m coming with you,’ Hester said firmly. ‘You need to keep away from Trimble, especially in your condition.’

‘You’re right, of course. We’ll go next week. I hope Piers will be home by then.’

‘But you’re not going to tell him?’

‘Not until I have proof. But first I’m going to visit Greystone Park and I’ll do that tomorrow morning. I want to find out everything I can about Sarah Farthing and her family. Maybe Tommy has relations here in Rockwood.’

‘All right, Rosie, but I want you to promise that you’ll get Gurney or Hudson to drive you. You shouldn’t be handling the reins now.’

Rosalind smiled. ‘You worry too much, but,’ she added hastily, ‘I will do as you wish if it makes you happy.’

Foster, Sir Michael’s butler, showed Rosalind into the drawing room where Sir Michael and his younger daughter, Sylvia, were facing each other with expressions on their faces that suggested they had been having a heated argument.

Sir Michael’s frown was replaced by a wide smile. ‘My dear Mrs Blanchard, this is a pleasant surprise.’

Sylvia slumped down on the sofa. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Patsy, have you, Rosie? She’s forgotten all about us since she decided to be an opera singer.’

‘I’m sure she hasn’t.’ Rosalind peeled off her lace gloves. ‘It’s very hot today. I’m glad I came early.’

‘Won’t you sit down,’ Sir Michael said anxiously. ‘Would you like some refreshment? Perhaps some lemonade?’

‘That would be lovely.’ Rosalind took a seat opposite Sylvia. ‘I expect Patsy will come home at the end of the season. She’ll be able to tell you all the gossip from the theatre.’

Sylvia’s pretty mouth pursed into a pout. ‘She’ll have forgotten all about her country friends.’