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‘No? Surely. A beautiful woman like you and of such an eligible age.’ He couldn’t entirely disguise a hint of sarcasm.

There was no hiding from Matthew, it seemed. ‘Why does beauty have anything to do with it?’

‘Don’t be naïve.’

‘Now you sound like my mother.’

They were approaching the convent but she could tell he’d lost interest in his sightseeing, pausing instead, and thus forcing her to slow and face him. ‘Forgive me, have I upset you?’

She frowned, shook her head. ‘No. I’m just perplexed.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t understand why you’re helping me.’

‘To do what?’

‘Oh, come now, Matthew. There’s a temptation to accuse you of lacking acuity and yet I know that’s likely something you’ve rarely had to answer to.’

They stared at each other and she noted the intensity in his gaze.

‘All right; it’s obvious to me that you want to get into the Rowntree’s chocolate factory and while I don’t entirely understand why, I’m happy to help.’

‘Didn’t my father tell you all of this last night? You both seemed incredibly chummy.’

‘He made bare mention. But I’d rather hear it from you. It’s got me intrigued.’

She explained her desire to pursue a career. ‘Curiously, though, it was only last night while you were talking about Rowntree that it occurred to me the potential might lie with the very product our county is famous for. Perhaps more importantly at the moment, though, I experienced a feeling that I’d be betraying the men at the Front if I didn’t volunteer at the factory. So that’s my interest.’

‘What sort of career do you envisage you might pursue?’

Alex shrugged. ‘That’s where it all falls apart. I haven’t got anything in mind. My mother’s right, I don’t know enough about anything to entertain such lofty thoughts.’

‘Well, I didn’t know anything about railway networks until I learned. You enjoy chocolate, you say; have an interest in it?’

‘I do.’ She grinned. ‘What do you smell?’

He blinked. ‘Um, coal,’ he said, rather obviously, given that they were nearing the railway station. She nodded. ‘Horse manure,’ he laughed, gesturing over at the road where a carriage had paused moments previous.

She chuckled. ‘Tanneries, too, I know. Anything else?’

Matthew sniffed, closed his eyes, then sniffed again. ‘There’s something acidic, perhaps?’ He opened his eyes in query.

‘Good!’ Her gaze danced with delight. ‘What you’re smelling is the vinegar note coming from the first stage of conching from the Rowntree’s factory. On a clear day like today and with this hint of breeze we can just catch it. On cloudy days, rain imminent, and if the wind is coming roughly from a more easterly direction, you’d smell something more malty, biscuity . . . from the Clementhorpe factory of Terry’s.’

‘And now you’re going to tell me you can work out what’s happening at either factory because of scents on the wind?’ He gave a sound of awe.

She laughed. ‘Truthfully, I’ve never pondered it previously. I suspect most people who live in this city can.’

‘You’re underselling yourself, Alex. Perhaps you should be a chocolatier.’ She slanted him a look of surprise. ‘You know it too, don’t you?’

She blushed but didn’t answer him because although she’d reached towards that thought this morning, she hadn’t actually conquered it; it was Matthew who was putting her vague notion into words that resonated with promise. ‘You know, if Europe wasn’t blowing itself up right now and turning into one massive killing field, I’d be suggesting you travel to the continent and learn from one of the great chocolate houses in Switzerland or France.’

She frowned at him, but with pleasure. ‘You’re quite a surprise.’

‘How so?’ He grinned back at her.

‘You’re not judgemental. Not a note of scorn from you at the idea of a woman in business.’ Alex found this odd, given his wealth and presumed social standing.