“Well I’m not one of them. I’m from Yorkshire,” Lily lied cheerfully. “We don’t hold with Machiavellian manipulation north of the Trent. Look, Miss, your friend Joe sounds more gangster than angel to me. You want to watch him!” She put her spectacles back on and pulled a face. “There! Do you see the change? Lady novelists make a better impression on their publishers if they look intellectual.”

This raised another smile. “I do see! Perhaps I should try a pair.”

“They certainly keep the gentlemen at arm’s length, I’ve always found.” She gave a stagy sigh.

The answering smile became a chuckle.

“If you’re sure there’s nothing I can do …? Summon up your ‘angel,’ perhaps?”

“Lord no! I’ve spent the week dodging his attentions by one device or another. He’d tear my ears off if he knew where I was. But, look, if you really wouldn’t mind, could you come with me to the lobby? Wait with me for a taxi? They don’t much like picking up single women at this hour. You’re very kind!” She put her arm through Lily’s and they moved towards the door. “Now—this is bad of me—but could I impose on you further? I need some time. Could you bear to have a quick word with my companion?”

“Mr. Fitzwilliam?”

“Yes. Will you tell him I’m upset and I’ve gone back to spend the night with Kate? All perfectly true.”

“Very sensible move, my dear. I understand.”

“No, no! It’s not like that … not what you’re thinking …”

Lily seemed to have triggered an emotional reaction and waited to hear more, an expression of kind concern on her face.

“My companion is … a … lovely man. An honourable man. He wishes me no harm.”

“Leave it to me. I’ll speak to him. I’m sure I can find the right words. That’s what I’m trained to do.” They smiled at each other with mutual regard. “I’m Vanessa Richmond. How do you do?”

“Dorcas Joliffe. Thank you so much, Miss Richmond, for sticking me back together. Consider yourself my stand-in angel.”

“ALL WELL, LIL? What have you done with her?” Phyl asked when she returned.

“Nothing’s well, I’d say. She’s done a bunk and left me to present her excuses. When I get hold of you-know-who, I’m going to fillet him!”

“You got involved with the target!” Phyl pursed her lips. “Isn’t that against all the rules of undercover work? You’ll catch it, gel, when the boss finds out.”

“You know, Phyl, there are no rules in the kind of work I do. He employs me to think for myself. We have the same wriggly ways of getting through. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if I’d done exactly what my lord and spymaster intended—put a ruddy great spoke in the wheels of a budding romance!”

Phyl nodded. “Not sure about ‘budding.’ Look at him!”

Lily flicked a glance at the troubled Fitzwilliam, whose eyes were still watching the door, and prepared herself for the coming encounter. “The things I do for England! Funny, Phyl—I lost no sleep over breaking the arm of a chap who was asking for it, but I really jib at the thought of breaking a heart.”

CHAPTER 16

Joe was slowly sipping a green and summery cocktail made up of gin, Rose’s lime cordial and large quantities of ice when the butler stalked to his side in the Great Hall.

In his over-stimulated state Joe had decided to inject a bit of life into this dull company when he came down, bathed and fresh and evening-suited. Playing heavily on his Indian experiences, he’d taken the footman aside, relieved him of his silver shaker and, with the exaggerated gestures of a Savoy cocktail waiter, given him an energetic demonstration of how to make a “gimlet,” that favourite summer tipple of the Raj. Cries of excited acclaim and an outpouring of memories from the old India hands had greeted his unorthodox behaviour and two bottles of gin had glugged their way through the silver shaker as the crowd whiled away the time waiting for the appearance of young Alex. “Well done!” Cecily had whispered. “That’s not such a bad idea. The drunker the guests are, the less conspicuous my son will appear. Shall we have another round of these delicious things?”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but there’s a person on the telephone requiring to speak with you as a matter of urgency. A female person. She did not give her name,” Styles said quietly.

“Dorcas?” Joe said eagerly as he picked up the receiver.

“Sorry, Joe. It’s me, Lily.”

“Thank God! We’re just about to go in to dinner. Any news?”

“Dinner’s over here. In sophisticated London, they’ve all dined and gone on somewhere else. Aunty Phyl came and helped me watch.”

“And?”

“Straight to the QED bit, Joe?”

“Please.”

“Fitzwilliam was entertaining a female guest. She was happily entertained—in fact, Aunty Phyl, who hadn’t a clue who the pair were, rather thought they were in love. But it all turned sour when he gave her an unexpected present. It consisted of two items I couldn’t make out. Small. Gold. They had significance for her, though. She burst into tears and fled the table.” She hurried to add, “They’re not spending the night together.”

“Identification, Lil?”

“Pursued by me to the ladies washroom, she told me her name was Dorcas Joliffe.”

Lily absorbed the heavy silence and then took up again, slowly: “Upshot was, Miss Joliffe took off in a taxi, leaving me to make her excuses to Fitzwillie. She said she was going to stay with a friend … Kate. I heard her direct the cabby to Highgate.”

Joe’s voice was a growl of distress. “You said it, Lil. Romantic place, silver words—I’m sure there were plenty of those—and a meaningful gift. Yes, I know what that would have been. The Swine actually tricked me into acquiring it on his behalf the day before. He set me up to bid for it at Christie’s. It cost him fifty quid; it’s cost me …”

“What on earth was it, Joe?”

“A pair of gold-mounted miniatures. Very good ones. Great-great-grandmama and -grandpapa. A matched pair of betrothal portraits.”

Hissing of a human kind filled the earpiece. Lily was quick to understand. “The shit! That was a seduction scene he’d set up all right, but more than that … A proposal of marriage. Don’t you think? Am I reading too much into the gesture, Joe?”

“I’m sure you are.” Joe’s response was devoid of emotion. “He’s a free man and will marry again if he is to achieve his ambitions. Future Prime Ministers are expected to acquire wives who will do them credit: they should be of high social standing, unassertive and, for choice, British. Dorcas is illegitimate and—worse—she has a French mother. The half that’s not French—her father’s side—is half German. Her paternal aunt, you’ll recall, was conveniently murdered before she could be exposed as a German spy working at the heart of the British Navy.” Sensing that he was responding a little abruptly, he added, “And, of course, she regularly marches with the Suffragettes, let’s not forget.”

“Then I’ve misinterpreted things … Definitely a non-starter in the marriage stakes! You’ve convinced me. Funny though, he seemed to me to be offering her his family on a plate. He must have been very confident that she would be impressed.”

“They were impressive—all velvet and pearls and haughty stares. Now, the sight of my hand-hewn ancestors—bristly chins, rough tweeds and blackcock’s feathers at a jaunty angle—the gentlemen were even more fearsome—would have a girl running for the exit.”

“Well, that’s sort of what did happen, Joe,” Lily said gently. She always guessed his self-deprecating flippancy concealed distress. “She saw something there she didn’t like the look of. Fitzwillie must have realised he’d misjudged things because she left the gift behind on the table when she skedaddled.”

“Did he go after her?”

“No. He’s still here in the hotel morosely sipping his brandy. Hoping she’ll think again and come back, I expect. Do you want me to ruin his romantic prospects for a week? Albert’s taught me the neatest trick and I’m sure I can borrow an umbrella …”