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She wondered where Hart had got to. Probably somewhere off with his rackety baronet. She made another mental note to use the man’s name, having been torn off a strip by Hart for addressing him thus.

They were talking about Lady Hannah’s beautiful wedding to Edward Ellice and Eliza gave a heartfelt sigh.

‘One thing I have been very pleased about is the newspapers are all full of the wedding news, so nobody is harping on about me being mysterious,’ she said, looking hugely relieved.

‘Perhaps they have moved on now? They found it entertaining for last season, and now they might move on to something else,’ Lady Mary said.

‘I sincerely hope so.’

They all laughed and turned to talking about the Giroux ballet at the Sans Pareil theatre that Lady Liz had seen, when the door to the parlour burst open, banged against the wall, and Hart skidded into the room. Soaked, hair awry, panting, hand on chest, eyes wild.

They all stood immediately. ‘Whatever is wrong?’ Robert Ellice demanded, stepping forward.

‘Haryo… Oh, God… Haryo…’ Hart panted ignoring Ellice. His agonised gaze was fixed on her, and her alone.

Harriet froze.

He came to her, breathing stertorous, shaking, tears in his eyes. ‘There was an incident in the lobby of the House of Commons. A man. A man. Something to do with Russia. He was…’ He paused to catch a breath, eyes closed, shaking his head slowly. He opened them and looked at her with such pain her heart almost stopped.

‘He was looking for Granville.’

‘And?’ Harriet heard herself say.

‘Oh, God, Harriet. I don’t… I can’t… he… he shot him. He shot Granville.’

Lady Liz grabbed his arm and shook him. ‘Is Lord Granville hurt?’

Hart turned anguished eyes on Harriet.

‘He’s dead, Haryo. Granville is dead.’

Chapter 54

HARYO

London

Noise erupted around her, voices harsh and demanding, the sound of weeping, but Harriet couldn’t move or speak.

Granville dead?

She felt cold. So cold it was hard to breathe, hard to think. Hard to make out what everyone was saying.

Granville dead?

She waited for the tears. A cry of horror, a wail of inconsolable grief, but nothing came. She sank into herself, trying to grapple with the notion of a world without Granville in it, but it was impossible.

Granville dead?

Eliza took her hand and was saying something to her, tears streaming down her face. Robert was talking to Hart, snapping questions, demands, asking if he was sure. Was he sure?

Then the shaking began. Her hands trembled, but she shook deep, deep inside as her mind slowed like treacle moving off a spoon. Lady Liz and Eliza got her to a chair and gave her brandy. ‘Just a sip, darling,’ someone said. She sipped and fire spread through her, but it didn’t come near to touching the cold.

Her mind quietly closed.

Granville was dead.

Chapter 55