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Miller sets about folding the blanket into a tidy bundle. ‘Of course,’ he agrees gladly, with no trace of unwillingness. He really has enjoyed himself, and that warms my contented heart further. ‘I really must stop by the club.’ My delicate shoulders sag and Miller spots it. ‘I’ll be quick,’ he assures me, moving in and dipping to brush our lips lightly. ‘I promise.’

Refusing to let anything more spoil our quality time, I link arms with him and let him walk us across the grass until we hit the pathway. ‘Can I stay with you tonight?’ I’m feeling guilty for my regular absence from home, but I know Nan’s not in the least bit bothered by it, and I’ll call her as soon as we’re back at Miller’s.

‘Livy, you stay with me whenever you choose. You don’t have to ask.’

‘I shouldn’t leave Nan alone.’

He laughs lightly, pulling my eyes up his chest to his face. ‘Your grandmother would put the most ferocious guard dog to shame.’

I return his amusement and rest my head on his arm as we amble along. ‘I concur.’

A strong arm wraps around my shoulder and hugs me to his side. ‘If you’d prefer me to take you home, then I will.’

‘But I want to stay with you.’

‘And I’d love to have you in my bed.’

‘I’ll call Nan as soon as we’re back at your place,’ I affirm, making a point to remember to ask her if she minds, even though I know for sure that she doesn’t.

‘Okay,’ he agrees on a little laugh.

‘Oh, there’s a bin.’ I rustle the bags in my hand and head over to the bin, but my stride falters when I spot a sorrowful-looking man slumped on the bench nearby. He looks tatty, dirty and vacant – one of the many homeless people who frequent the streets of London. My pace to the litter bin slows as I watch him twitching, and I conclude very quickly that drugs or alcohol are probably the cause. Human nature stokes the compassion within me, and when he raises empty eyes to mine, I stop walking completely. I stare at the man, who’s probably barely a man – late teens, perhaps, but life on the streets has taken its toll. His skin is sallow, his lips dry.

‘Spare any change, miss?’ he croaks at me, yanking tighter at my heartstrings. It’s not uncommon to be asked such a question, and I usually find it reasonably easy to walk on by, especially since Nan reminds me every time that by lining their pockets with money, you’re also probably funding their drug or drink habit. But this dishevelled young man with scruffy, ripped clothes and disintegrating sneakers is reminding me of something, and I can’t seem to push my legs on.

After spending far too long staring at him, his open palm extends towards me, snapping me from my miserable thoughts and the flashbacks of a lost-looking child. ‘Miss?’ he repeats.

‘I’m sorry.’ I shake my head and continue, but as I lift the bag to drop it into the bin, a warm palm wraps around my wrist and holds it firm.

‘Wait.’ Miller’s low timbre strokes my skin and pulls my eyes to his. Without another word, he claims the bag and takes the two half-eaten salads out, then places the carrier in the rubbish bin before turning and striding over to the homeless man. I watch in astonished silence as Miller reaches him and drops to his haunches, handing the two bowls over, followed by the fleece blanket. Tentative hands accept Miller’s offering and a heavy head nods its thanks. Tears pinch at the back of my eyes and very nearly fall when my perfect part-time gentleman lays a palm on the man’s knee and rubs a reassuring circle into the dirty leg of his jeans. Miller’s actions are delicate, caring and knowing. They are the actions of someone who understands. He’s telling me his story slowly, but with no words. They are not needed. His actions speak volumes, and I’m shocked by them, but most of all saddened.

That lost little boy was still lost.

Until I found him.

I watch closely as Miller rises to his full height and slips his hands into the pockets of his expensive suit trousers, then slowly turns to face me. He just stands there, regarding me carefully as I draw another gut-wrenching conclusion. An orphan? Homeless? I bite painfully on my lip, anything to prevent the threatening sorrow from gushing from my eyes at the sight of my beautifully broken man.

‘Don’t cry,’ he murmurs, closing the distance between us.

I shake my head, feeling silly. ‘I’m sorry.’

My forehead meets the crook under his chin when he’s near enough, holding my distraught body up, and strong arms surround me in his safety. ‘Give him money and he’ll likely buy drugs, alcohol or cigarettes,’ he tells me quietly. ‘Give him food and a blanket, then he’ll sate his hunger and keep warm.’ He kisses the top of my head and breaks away from me, quickly wiping the stream of tears trailing down my cheeks. ‘Do you know how many lost children there are on the streets of London, Olivia?’

I shake my head a little.

‘It’s not all opulence and grandeur. This city is beautiful, but tainted by a dark underworld.’

I absorb his quiet words, feeling ignorant and incredibly guilty. I know he speaks the truth. And I know because not only have I skimmed the edge of it, but also because Miller has been immersed in it his whole life.

His eyes remain focused on mine, a million messages passing between us. Him telling me. And me understanding. ‘I’ve had a wonderful afternoon, thank you.’ He ghosts my eyebrow with his thumb and leans in to kiss my forehead.

‘Me too.’

He smiles and takes his customary hold of my neck, turning me and taking us towards the exit of Hyde Park. ‘We’re going to get caught in the coming downpour if we’re not careful,’ he says, looking up to the sky.