They both turned and saw Georgia, but she sprang back and ran towards the boathouse.
Edward was standing on the balcony with a dark-haired man with the identifying flower.
‘You’d better explain yourself,’ he said gruffly as Georgia approached.
The dark-haired boy looked sheepish.
‘What’s going on?’ said Georgia, still shocked from what she had seen in the bushes.
‘Georgia, this is Pietro. He is a count from Perugia. Or so he’s been telling all the debs and their mothers when he gatecrashes their parties.’
‘You’re not a count?’ said Georgia, her mouth dropping open.
‘Tell her what you just told me,’ ordered Edward. Georgia felt quite excited by the way he had taken charge of the situation.
‘I work in the Rubens Hotel,’ he said, not looking at her.
‘Doing what?’
‘I am a bus boy in the restaurant,’ he said awkwardly. ‘It started out as a joke. A mistake. One day we were walking home from work in our dinner suits. We saw a party, people, beautiful ladies spilling out on to the street. We went to the door, and we walked straight inside. Someone asked who we were and we couldn’t say we were two Italian bus boys from the Rubens, so we pretended to be Perugian aristocracy. It seemed a good way to meet girls.’
‘Who’s we?’ asked Georgia.
‘Myself and Gianni.’
‘Sally’s Gianni?’
‘Where are they?’ asked Edward firmly.
Pietro hesitated.
‘If you don’t tell us, I am going to call the police and they will have you deported back to Italy quicker than you can say con artist,’ growled Edward.
‘They are going to Italy.’
‘We know that from Sally’s letter. Where? When?’
‘First they are going to Scotland. They are going to get married.’
‘Married!’ gasped Georgia.
‘He loves her!’ insisted Pietro.
‘He loves her? He’s a fortune-hunter who wants to get his hands on her money.’
‘When did they leave?’ asked Edward more calmly.
‘They were catching the afternoon train to Carlisle.’
‘Do you know where they are staying?’
Pietro shook his head.
‘How old is Sally?’ asked Edward quickly.
‘Seventeen.’
‘They’ll be in Gretna Green,’ said Edward bleakly.