EXTRACT . . . When they left and were in the cabriolet, Daisy asked him the question that was consuming her. ‘Are you married, Lawson?’ He guffawed and almost spooked the horse. ‘Good God, no. Whatever gave you that idea?’ She shrugged in the darkness, but felt anxiety slough off her like a constricting skin, since he was manifestly not lying. ‘Because you’ve never taken me to your home. I wondered if you were hiding a wife there. I just wonder if you are serious about me, if you really care for me.’ ‘Oh, I’m in dead earnest, my love,’ he answered directly, looking into her wide eyes. ‘But my home is like the Sack of Carthage and you would not be impressed . . . Besides, there are two more reasons why I ain’t taken you there. Firstly, whilst I can hardly wait to lure you into my bed, I want you to look upon me as a gentleman. Secondly, despite my ardent desire to bed you, I respect you and regard you as a lady, even though sometimes you don’t quite see yourself as one.’ ‘Oh, Lawson . . . I appreciate I’m not a lady born and bred, but I do try . . . I do try to be like a lady,’ she protested. ‘I try—’ ‘Would you like me to show you my home?’ ‘I’d love you to.’ ‘Right. I shall make a very determined effort to have the house cleaned up and made very presentable. Then I shall invite you to dinner there and you will dine like a lady. We shall have a very romantic evening of it and I might even ply you with strong drink . . .’ ‘Strong drink?’ She chuckled at the innuendo. ‘D’you think I’ll need strong drink?’