Tom watched, fascinated. “How can you think of your appearance at a time like this?”

“It’s something to do. In any case, I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me at my worst. I want to face them with as much pride as I can muster. And that includes tidy hair.” I drew the comb through the only smooth bit I had managed to make so far.

“You have lovely hair,” said Tom. “I always thought so.”

I looked at him, surprised at the unexpected compliment, but he began to examine the walls of the room, looking for peepholes or weak spots, running his hands over them.

I got on with my hair and Tom examined the room. He came back and sat down glumly by my side. “If we knew where we were, we might stand a sporting chance. We should try to find that out, first. I say, Rose.”

“Yes?” I stopped combing.

“Do you remember when we were children, and you used to sit on my shoulders so we could reach the best apples?”

“Yes.” I began to get his drift.

“Do you think you could do it now? You might be able to see out of one of those chinks up there, where the light is coming from?”

I looked up. It was difficult to judge, but it might be possible. “Let’s try.”

So Tom hunkered down, I sat on his shoulders, after wrapping my skirts around my legs both for modesty, and so Tom could see. Slowly, he stood upright, and he gave a quiet whoop of triumph. “Come on, then.” He walked slowly towards the chinks of light. I held tight until we were there, and then, using the wall to support myself, I stretched up as far as I could.

But it was no use. The light was still far above my head, and stretch as I might, I couldn’t reach it. It was so frustrating. “I’d need to be an acrobat and stand on your shoulders,” I whispered down to Tom.

“You don’t feel you could stand?” he asked eagerly.

“No. If I fell, it would make such a noise they’d come in, and we don’t want to antagonise them. Not yet, anyway.”

He had to see the sense in that. It was one thing being brave but quite another to carry bravery to the point of stupidity. He knelt down and let me off. I stumbled when I stood, and Tom put out his arms to catch me, as he had so often before, but this time it was different.

Instead of releasing me when I regained my balance, he drew me to him and kissed me—not a friendly kiss. It held a passion I’d not been aware of in him before. His tongue probed at my lips and I almost opened, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t Richard.

Appalled, I pushed him away. He opened his eyes and stared at me, his eyes filled with horror. “Oh, Rose, I’m sorry, I never meant—oh, God.” He turned away, his hand to his head, and I realised he had let something slip, something he’d never meant me to see.

“Oh, Tom, no! Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Before you went away, you mean?” He turned back to me, but I couldn’t see his face properly in the gloom, so I moved closer. He made an instinctive gesture, not wanting me to come close, but I took his hand and we sat. He wouldn’t look at me. He stared at the floor. “I didn’t know myself. It was only when you were away, and I missed you so much I realised I felt more for you than mere friendship, and then you came back betrothed—it was all so quick, maybe you hadn’t thought it through, I’d give you time. I don’t know,” he continued, miserably staring at the planked floor. “And then I saw him, your betrothed, and I knew I couldn’t compete with all that, so I decided to keep it to myself.”

“Oh, Tom, if this had been two years ago, a year ago even, I would have been so pleased.” He looked up at me, hope in his eyes. It broke my heart.

I couldn’t let him think there was any hope. I had to explain. I tried to keep my voice steady. I thought if I started to cry he might too. “Although I never loved you in that way, I was always fond of you. We could have had a successful partnership. Love grows between people who marry for other reasons. We’ve seen it.” I kept watching him, willing the misery I saw in his eyes to fade. “But when I met Richard my world changed. Like you, I didn’t think I had a hope. You never saw Julia Cartwright, did you?” He shook his head dumbly. “She was so perfect—beautiful, perfectly dressed, rich. I never had a chance, or so I thought. But she turned out to be empty inside and she would have driven Richard mad within a twelvemonth. Still, I tried hard not to think of him until the accident. Then I had no time to think properly, you see, and when he was hauled out of that coach, covered with blood, I thought he might die. All I could think of was to stop the flow and try to save him.”

I paused, glancing away, but I forced myself to meet Tom’s eyes again. “Then he opened his eyes and looked at me. He said later he fell in love with me the first time he saw me, but I didn’t fall for