‘How do you so, Colonel? I think you attended the reception at Guildhall, but I don’t think we were introduced at the time.’

‘I would have remembered you, my lady,’ Colonel Munday said gallantly.

‘Won’t you join us for coffee, Colonel?’ Sir Michael resumed his seat and signalled to a waiter who was hovering nearby.

‘Thank you, but I am with friends. Another time, maybe, Sir Michael.’ Colonel Munday drew Rosalind aside. ‘My dear, are you aware that Alexander is back in London?’

Rosalind shot an anxious glance at her sister, but Patricia had turned away to speak to her husband. ‘Yes, Colonel. Do you know where he is?’

Colonel Munday shook his head. ‘It’s a bad business, Rosalind. He refused to return to Devonshire or his old home in Cornwall, and he’s taken a poorly paid job as a clerk in Doctors’ Commons.’

Rosalind stared at him in horror. ‘But he’s a professional soldier.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Patricia demanded, breaking into their conversation. ‘Rosie, please sit down. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.’

‘Yes, yes, in a minute,’ Rosalind said impatiently. ‘Where is he living, Colonel?’

‘He has a room above a printing shop in Hanging Sword Alley. I haven’t been there myself, but I know the area and it isn’t a suitable place for anyone to live.’ He put his hand in his pocket and took out a silver case from which he produced a visiting card. ‘My address in London, if you would care to contact me. I have to go now, but I hope we meet again soon.’

Rosalind watched him walk away with a feeling of dread. She had hoped that Alexander might have found some kind of employment commensurate with his abilities, but the information given by Colonel Munday filled her with horror. She knew that she would not rest until she had seen and spoken to Alex at least once more.

‘Please sit down,’ Patricia said crossly. ‘What are you thinking of, Rosie?’

‘I’m sorry. Colonel Munday was good to me when we were forced to spend so much time in France.’ She sank down on her chair and sipped the coffee that the waiter had just placed in front of her.

When they arrived back in Duke Street, Rosalind pleaded fatigue and went straight to her room. Fletcher was waiting for her and she gave her a straight look.

‘What’s up with you?’

It was not the greeting Rosalind might have expected from a servant, but she ignored Fletcher’s rudeness. ‘Do you know where Hanging Sword Alley is, Fletcher?’

‘I do, and you don’t want to go there.’

‘I’ve just heard that a good friend of mine, my brother-in-law in fact, is living in what sounds like squalid accommodation in that street.’

‘I wouldn’t call it a street, ma’am. It’s a narrow alley between warehouses and printing shops. It’s a rough area.’