‘So I assume she’s divorced now if they’re trying to make it work between you two again?’

‘No. Cecily is now one very rich, very merry widow. Her husband was at least three decades older than her and, from what I understand, enjoyed a lot of red meat and a lot of red wine. Cecily will be the first one to tell you that it took longer than she thought.’

‘That seems a rather cold approach to a marriage.’

‘Like I said, it’s more of a business arrangement in certain circles. He had money and apparently quite fancied the idea of being a part of the whole aristocracy circus, whereas she had a title but there wasn’t a lot of money behind it, which is quite often the case. Not that that stopped her parents turning their noses up first at the man she was planning to marry because he wasn’t from an old family and had made his own money commercially.’

‘Surely you can’t be serious,’ I said, laughing a little. ‘That sounds like something out of Jane Austen or Charles Dickens.’

‘You’d have thought, wouldn’t you? But not in this case. Not really good enough in their eyes, despite the fact that guy had billions. The money brought them round in the end.’

‘I bet it did. Do you think she loved him?’

‘Cared for him, yes, but loved, no. She told me as much on her wedding day.’

‘Noooo, really?’

Jack gave a shrug. ‘She sent for me and then asked me if I thought she was doing the right thing.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I asked her if she loved him. She told me she had feelings for him but no, she didn’t love him, but that she didn’t feel that was an impediment to her marriage.’

‘What was she asking your opinion about then?’

‘I think she was concerned she might be snubbed because she wasn’t marrying a title.’

‘Did you think that?’

‘No, I didn’t. That outdated opinion of people in “trade” can still permeate society even today, but money is now far more influential and opens far more doors.’

‘So then she was satisfied?’

He shifted in the seat and looked momentarily out of the window.

‘Something else happened, didn’t it?’

‘Nothing of consequence.’

‘You know what I used to love most about being a writer, and still do on the occasions that I go out?’

‘What’s that?’ Jack asked, turning back to face me.

‘People watching. You can get quite good at it. Picking up on people’s mannerisms, behaviour, and so on. Just the way they are sitting can tell a whole story about if they feel comfortable or not with the person opposite them. Naturally, I’m a little out of practise, but I’m still pretty sure you’re telling a fib.’

Jack brushed my little finger with the edge of his own as both our hands rested on the car seat between us. ‘Seems like you’re not that much out of practise, after all.’