A few days later, the dawn was cold but bright.

Finally, New Year’s Eve at last, thought Millie Vander as she rolled over in bed, a happy smile on her face. She had been planning her party for weeks now, and everything had to be perfect for her guests, the rotten weather notwithstanding.

She could just feel in her bones that this was going to be a night she’d never forget. For tonight, surely, he would finally propose.

She climbed out of bed and went moodily to the window, scowling out at the relentlessly white vista that lay outside. She’d been hoping all week that there’d be a thaw and the snow would have gone by now, so the sight of it made her lips curl in something that was part pout, part sneer. She could almost believe that nature had conspired against her on purpose to put this annoying obstacle in her way.

Already five of her guests who had to come from outside Oxford had called to cancel, saying they dared not risk the roads. Still, at least she’d had the good fortune to hire a famous local caterer, and she’d already had the evergreen arrangements delivered for Christmas Eve, so they were in place. They’d just need a little sprucing up.

She sighed and went out onto the landing, crossing over to the largest of the bathrooms, glad that her daughter, Juliet, was still in bed. She liked to have the best bathroom to herself for a good hour or so in the morning. At the age of forty-three (thirty-eight to her friends and acquaintances) she needed just that little bit more time nowadays until she felt ready to face the world.

Not that she hadn’t done well, she mentally congratulated herself. She stood in front of the long mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door, turning her figure this way and that, checking for any signs of sagging or unsightly bulges, and finding none.

At only five feet and three inches, she could almost see her entire length, and she liked what she saw. She’d always been curvaceous in all the right places, and slender where it mattered. A proper pocket Venus, George, her late husband, had always called her. Bless him.

She sighed and turned away from the mirror, her mind going instantly to the day ahead. So much to do, but she was confident it would all go well. She only hoped her nineteen-year-old twins, whom she’d reluctantly agreed could bring one friend each to the party, would have been careful in their choices.