“Lord Fortescue never does anything without a precise plan. There must be something he wants publicly known.” He paused. “Hard to imagine, though, given the sensitivity of the issues we’re discussing. He’s been quite direct in insisting that this all remain quiet.”

“Who opposes him on whatever this mysterious issue is? Could that person’s position be undermined by some well-timed bad publicity? Scandals in the country aren’t limited to the political, you know. Is anyone here on the brink of a personal disaster?”

“A very interesting idea, Emily,” he said. We both turned at the sound of Sir Julian’s voice booming with laughter. The newspaper man was sitting next to Lady Fortescue, close enough to Colin and me that it was impossible not to hear his words, spoken too loudly.

“Ah, there was something new every day then! Scandals enough to delight us all.”

Lady Fortescue winced, her face pale, and rushed from the room. Her husband did not follow her; I don’t think her absence registered with him in the least, particularly as he was sitting with Flora, who was glowing at his attention.

“She looks unwell. I should go to her,” I said, removing my hand from Colin’s and following her into the main hall. She was standing at the foot of the staircase, her knuckles white as she gripped an elaborately carved rail. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes, Lady Ashton, just a slight headache,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s awfully warm in the morning room.”

“Warm?” I asked. The fire had been so low it was in danger of going out. I touched her hand. It was ice cold.

“I see my husband coming. Will you excuse me?”