I stepped aside, and Edward Carrington emerged from the limousine, straightening his charcoal suit.

William’s face went from amusement to confusion to slow-blooming horror in three seconds.

‘Mr. Carrington?’ he stammered. ‘What… what are you doing here?’

Edward smiled, a polite, distant smile. ‘I’m Miss Sullivan’s guest. I hope that’s not a problem, Prescott.’