Eugenia, guessing the cast of her mother’s mind, frowned. “He must be very old and grey by now.”
“Old? Grey? He can’t be more than – let me see – he was twenty one when last I saw him – you were ten – why, he’s barely more than thirty now!”
“Ancient,” sighed Eugenia.
Mrs. Dovdedale was not listening.
“I must make sure that he is invited to one of Lady Granton’s soirées,” she continued. “She would surely do it for us. He is bound to come if he hears that the widow of his old Head Steward is present. He cannot have forgotten us. He cannot have forgotten you!”
“Of course he has forgotten me. And even if he hasn’t, what is all this to do with us being saved?”
Mrs. Dovedale looked coy. “Why, you were so taken with each other at that Christmas party – “
“Mama, I was ten!”
“But it was
