‘Don’t let her bully you,’ Sir Robert said.

‘But I must do what she wants,’ Mistral protested. ‘She is my aunt, besides I am – a little frightened of her, I think.’

‘If you want me, you know where to find me,’ Sir Robert said.

He bent his head and kissed her hand. The skin was soft and cool. Then he had a quick impression of surprise in her eyes, of the colour rising once again in her cheeks, before with a sudden flurry and rustle of the flounces of her gown she was gone. Sir Robert made no attempt to follow her. Instead, for several moments he walked up and down the little reading room.

When he looked up, it was to see Lord Drayton standing in the doorway.

‘What on earth are you doing here, Robert?’ he asked. ‘I have been looking for you everywhere. Come and have a drink. I have lost a packet. I shall try my luck again later.’

‘A drink is what I need,’ Sir Robert answered.

‘Has Violet gone home?’ Lord Drayton enquired.

Sir Robert nodded.

‘She would listen to that damned opera singer and music always gives her a headache.’

‘It would be cheaper to have a headache than to lose what I have lost in the meantime,’ Lord Drayton remarked.

He led the way across the gambling room to the bar.

Mistral, standing beside Emilie’s chair, saw them go. She thought how tall Sir Robert looked, how he stood out amongst the other men in the Casino, then with a feeling of guilt she turned her attention to the pile of louis growing steadily bigger in front of Emilie.

A man strolled up to the other side of the table. He stood watching the play.

He was young, dark and exceedingly handsome, with eyes which seemed to be permanently amused at what they saw. After a moment he placed a pile of louis on number twenty one.

‘Rien ne va plus!’ the Croupier intoned.

The ball spun round and round. There was no other sound. ‘Vingt-et-un, rouge et impair!’

The young man laughed as his very considerable winnings were pushed towards him, then he flung down five louis for the Croupier.

‘Merci, Monsieur. Vous avez de la chance!’

‘J’ai toujours de la bonne fortune.’

There was something irresistibly gay both in his bearing and his voice.

He strolled away and Mistral suddenly realised that she was not the only person who had been watching the lucky stranger. Emilie’s eyes were on him, too.

Suddenly she pushed back her chair a little and called an attendant.

Who is the gentleman who won just now?’ she asked.

‘That is His Serene Highness Prince Nikolai, Madame.’

‘Prince Nikolai!’ Emilie repeated softly.

‘Oui, Madame.

Emilie pushed the pile of louis she had won into her reticule and got to her feet.

‘Come along, Mistral,’ she said impatiently, and Mistral, wondering at her aunt’s air of determination and hurry, followed her.

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