‘No.’ Across the room in two strides, Philip takes hold of her wrist and tows her back to the door, scattering assistants as he goes. ‘I really need to talk to you now.’

Elizabeth is still in her stockinged feet. The footman outside the door stiffens when Philip appears with a breathless princess. He steps forward as if to intercept them, but Elizabeth shakes her head and he falls back. If Philip is so determined to have his say, he had better have it.

She is practically running to keep up with him. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Somewhere we won’t be interrupted,’ he says curtly, striding past doorways with footmen standing to attention. He keeps opening doors at random, only to be confronted by startled faces. ‘How can this bloody palace have seven hundred rooms and still nowhere we can be alone? Ah, what about this one?’

He pulls her into the room and releases her so he can turn and shut the door firmly behind him.

‘This is where we feed the dogs,’ Elizabeth says, looking around as she rubs her wrist. It isn’t sore exactly, but she can still feel the imprint of his fingers on her flesh.

‘It’s empty,’ says Philip. ‘That’s all that matters.’

Elizabeth is feeling distinctly ruffled. She feeds Susan herself, after the footmen have set out the food in stoneware dishes, so she is familiar with the room. It is just a narrow kitchen, with the neatly washed dog dishes stacked on the draining board. ‘Is there any reason we can’t go to my sitting room instead of hiding in the dog kitchen?’

‘Because there’ll be some lady-in-waiting or Miss Crawford or somebody there and I want to speak to you alone.’

‘Well, we appear to be alone now.’ Her heart is slamming painfully against her ribs. Philip looks so agitated. Is he really going to break things off? Would he really do that to her? She composes her expression, inwardly bracing herself. ‘What is it that can’t wait?’ she asks in a chilly voice.

‘I had to see you. I had to tell you …’ Having got her here, Philip seems at a loss as to how to proceed. Breaking off with a smothered curse, he drags a hand through his hair. ‘I thought this would be easier,’ he mutters.

‘Tell me what?’

She can see him pull himself together with an effort. ‘I keep thinking about what you said,’ he begins again.

‘What did I say?’

‘You said you knew I didn’t love you.’

Elizabeth keeps her chin up, her guard up. ‘And?’

‘And you said you liked the fact that we’d always been honest with each other.’

‘That’s true.’

‘The thing is, Elizabeth … the thing is, I wasn’t honest. At least, I was honest, or I thought I was … Christ, I’m making a mess of this!’ Philip clutches his head with both hands before dropping them and looking directly at her for the first time. ‘I don’t think I was being honest with myself,’ he says more clearly.