The Buttonmaker’s Daughter. Merryn Allingham

she asked me to do for her.’ He tried to sound unconcerned.

      ‘What?’

      ‘A message. She wanted me to take a message.’

      ‘Sounds exciting. Where is it?’

      He trundled to a stop and pulled from his pocket the scrap of paper, already dented and a little dirty around the edges. Before he could stop him, Olly had reached out and plucked it from his fingers.

      ‘“I hope to see you at the fête tomorrow. I’ll be there. Elizabeth,”’ he read aloud. ‘Not much excitement there.’ He sounded disappointed.

      William retrieved the message and stuffed it back into his pocket. But his friend hadn’t given up. ‘Who’s it for, anyway?’ Then, as the truth dawned on him, added, ‘Not that chap – the chap working on the temple?’

      He nodded miserably. Olly gave one of his low whistles. ‘Why are you looking like that? It is exciting, after all.’

      ‘It’s not exciting, it’s wrong,’ he said stubbornly.

      ‘Don’t be a spoilsport. True love and all that. We have to help.’