St John's Wood, London

Harriet looks at the dress. She runs a hand over her stomach, turning to the side to inspect herself in the black dress she had decided on for the evening. It is floor length and shows her figure, but not too much. It didn't matter, he'd find fault with everything unless he'd picked it. She hopes his interest in waining or he's distracted because he'd usually put all her clothes out for her and instruct her on what to wear.

She picks up a silver wrap. Usually she'd cover the damage with make-up but she's chosen not too. Her foundation tempers down the bruise on her face but when she looked in the mirror she wanted to cry, it's still visible. The nail marks on her arm from this morning drew a little blood so the make-up won't stay put. Harriet supposed there might be a long-sleeved dress but she doesn't want to hide the lies anymore. She's praying for a knight in shining armor, anyone to listen to her.

She hears the front door unlock and Robert's driver arrives; an awful toady man called Keith. One of her husband's latest tricks is to lock her in so her planned escape is problematic. Harriet pulls the wrap around her, it's too big, but it'll stop Keith telling her to get changed to cover up the scars and continue this sham of a marriage.

Belgravia

Harriet made Keith pull over the car, claiming that she's feeling sick and pretending it might be morning sickness. There's no chance of that. However much Robert wants her to bear his children, he has to bed her first and it's only happened once on the wedding night and it felt like rape. She's on the pill anyway, so far he doesn't know this. As she hoped, she's arrived late, walking into lots of chatter and glasses clinking.

She can see a gentleman she recognises. Spikings, she remembers. A friend of her father and it dawns on her as she looks across, that the tall, brooding man talking to him, dressed in a black suit might also be police. He doesn't look like a guest or remotely like anyone legal. She feels a faint fire inside her that she thought long dead as he turns to look at her. She realises that this could really be her moment of escape. If nobody else, surely Spikings might rescue her. Maybe the man in the black suit too.

Spikings is watching her carefully. She gives him a small smile of recognition and there's an imperceivable nod.

"That's her." Spikings jabs Dempsey's arm to get the American to turn around from where he's tracking Robert Makepeace. He sees a three-act play perform on his Lieutenant's face as the young man's eyes alight on the wife of the suspect.

"Jesus." Dempsey manages, "She's gorgeous… "

"Mouth closed, you'll swallow the next London bus." Spikings reminds him. "You're here to work."

They hear Robert Makepeace drawl from somewhere behind them as they cross the room. Spikings' shivers, there's pure menace in his voice. "Late, damm her, dressed like a fucking hooker."

Spikings lays a discrete arm on Dempsey's to keep him in place. He can feel his Lieutenant tense and knows him well enough to know when to unleash him on an unsuspecting suspect. They watch the barrister walk aggressively across the floor. What unfolds next has both men astounded, with Dempsey letting out an audible gasp. The room, and the husband, all stop as his wife drops the wrap that's been covering her body. The room falls silent. Outside the wind seems to stop blowing as if the world is waiting for the outcome.

At first, Dempsey wants to admire her and then his eagle eyes see a series of red, bloodied marks on her arm, and that she's shaking as she turns around in a wobbly, nervous twirl, seemingly baring all of her to the crowd. He feels the cold chill of grim realisation, creep up his spine. There's a large scratch on her back and a bruise across her shoulder blades. He swallows hard as he sees her chin thrust forward at the man who undoubtedly did this to her and notes tears in her eyes.

"Put it back on." Makepeace points to the wrap on the floor.

"No." Her voice is surprisingly calm.

"You stupid…" Her words are enough to make her husband lose his composure, such is the shock. There's a flicker of victory on her face.

Lady Winfield looks as her husband picks up the wrap. "Do you have any idea how much I need you?." Robert hisses at he kneels in front of her, it's almost like a marriage proposal.

"No." Dempsey can see Harriet waiver, "I'm not coming back, it's over."

"Go. Now." Spikings' hand falls from his arm.

Dempsey understands that he has only minutes to save this woman. From the corner of his eye, he sees Chas stand by the front door and Watson move to the other exit. Joyce Hargreaves is close by too. The other partner in the business, Joseph Turner is close by, looking aghast at Robert Makepeace but he can see the driver who brought her here is looking menacing and a few other men seem to be gearing up for something. Stupid thugs, he thinks. This is gonna blow up big time and Spikings has trusted him to be both the voice of reason and the muscle here.

Quickly, but as measured as he can, for he can't - won't - terrify her, Dempsey moves across the floor followed by Spikings who takes Robert Makepeace's arm and hauls him off the floor with Dave's assistance. He arranges his face into the most gentle smile he can find, desperate to be a superhero here even if every atom in his body wants to beat Makepeace into a pulp.

"Lady Winfield, I'm James Dempsey and I'm a police officer. You're not in any trouble, but I want you to be safe, will you come with me?" He speaks softly. She looks at him, her eyes tearful but that face, her beautiful bruised face, is utterly determined as she looks directly at him.

"Yes," She replies calmly. Then her legs give way and he catches her. She's feather-light in his arms.

He takes her to the patrol car and doesn't leave her side until they reach the station.