After the weekend, Harry received a curt summons to call on the earl. When he arrived, the wrathful earl demanded to know the reason for his behaviour. To fail to turn up at the weekend without an apology was a snub of the first order.

Harry pleaded sickness and apologized as best he could. The earl privately hoped the sickness was not caused by something nasty he had picked up at The Empire.

"You'd better see Rose and make your apologies to her as well."

Rose reluctantly entered the drawing-room and the earl left them alone together.

Rose was wearing a tea-gown made by the Italian dress designer Fortuny. It was a long straight garment of artfully pleated satin held at the neck and wrist and waist by strings of small iridescent sh.e.l.ls.

"You asked to see me?" she said coldly. "Please sit down."

"I have come to offer my sincere apologies. I was not well."

Rose suddenly felt rage burning up inside her. She forgot all the rules about what ladies were not supposed to know or say and remarked coldly, "I trust your complaint was not syphilis."

"What did you say?"

"You heard me. If you consort with wh.o.r.es at The Empire, it could be dangerous to your health."

"Who told you that!"

"Does it matter?"

"For your information, I had drunk a lot and met an old army friend. He suggested we go to The Empire. I was furious at your coldness. I tried to kiss you and you wrinkled up your face in disgust. No, I left almost as soon as we had arrived. I do not go with prost.i.tutes and never have. I know, it makes me unusual, but that is the truth."

Rose sat in silence. The clock ticked in the corner. The apple-wood fire crackled on the hearth and a rush of wind went round the house like a great sigh.

"I was going to write to you and explain," she said at last. "I was going to explain that my expression was caused by indigestion. Then I overheard the men talking in the dining-room about you going to the Promenade. I tore up the letter. I may as well tell you the truth. When you bent to kiss me, one of the steels in my corset had worked loose and jabbed into me."

Harry's harsh face broke into a smile. "Oh, my Rose, you are indeed an original."

He stood up and went over to her, took her hands in his and kissed them, one after the other. Then he raised her up and folded her in his arms.

Brum's voice came from the doorway. "My lord wishes to know if you would like some refreshment."

Harry released Rose. "Nothing, thank you." He whispered to Rose, "Later." Then he took his leave.

Rose felt like singing. It was all going to be all right after all.

The Shufflebottom family was in Scarborough that summer on their annual holiday. They sat in chairs on the beach and watched the children.

"I was thinking," said Sally, "Rose should have been around to see Frankie take his first steps."

"They've gone back to their grand life and Rose has nothing to fear any more. Why should she bother with the likes of us?"

Sally looked down the beach. "That do look like Rose and Daisy walking along."

"Can't be!"

Sally stood up and screwed up her eyes against the sun. "It is," she cried. "It's them!"

Rose ran forward and hugged Sally. "I thought you'd forgotten us," said Sally as Bert stood up and the children gathered around."

"We couldn't do that," said Rose. "My parents are visiting friends in Yorkshire and they agreed to let us travel to Scarborough for the day."

"Is the captain with you?" asked Bert.

"No, he had to go abroad on business."

"And took Becket with him," said Daisy.

They spent a happy afternoon with the family and then climbed back into the earl's coach.

"I wish they would come back," said Daisy.

Rose nodded, thinking of how much she had looked forward to seeing Harry again, only to receive a visit from Brigadier Bill Handy to inform her that Harry had been sent abroad on government business.

"I don't think Becket and I will ever get married," mourned Daisy.

If anything happens to Harry, thought Rose, I will definitely never marry. He makes every other man seem dull.

The carriage climbed up out of Scarborough onto the bleakness of the moors. The day grew darker.

Rose shivered. She had a superst.i.tious feeling that there was trouble ahead.