CHAPTER SEVENThe morning after the ball, Adella stepped through the iron gate that led into the garden in the middle of Dorset Square.
Her head ached from all the champagne she had drunk the night before and her mind was full of confusion after the conversation she had just had with Uncle Edgar.
She had come down late to breakfast and, much to her surprise, she found her uncle still sitting at the table.
She wished him a ‘good morning’ and he did not reply, but stared at her as she helped herself to coffee and a slice of toast, which was all she felt like eating.
“Well?” he asked, after a lengthy pause. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”
“What do you mean, Uncle Edgar?”
“Oh, come now, there is no need to be coy. You were on the terrace last night with his Lordship.”
Adella fe
