She blinked. She had not expected the last one. ‘No, you’re not. You’re . . . coffee with milk.’ She had meant to describe the actual colour of his skin, which was rich and beautiful, not bubbly cappuccino but muscled smooth. But he did not seem to understand this.

‘And you know very well that any skin shade darker than beige is black.’

‘Sorry, I see what you mean now. But I don’t see how it affects us if you might want to marry me. I don’t want to marry anyone just now,’ she added hurriedly. ‘I don’t even want to think of marriage. But if I was ever going to think of it, I don’t see why it should not be with you.’

‘Because black skin means I am almost certainly never going to be a well-paid architect. That’s been made fairly obvious to me here. Oh, no one has said anything openly, but it’s pretty clear. At least in the police force we all made the same salary — black or white. But even there it was clear I’d never get promoted. I think I only got the job because of Dad’s mates. And you’d be saddled with a black husband, which could harm your career too — even make it impossible. How many hospital boards or research laboratories would refuse your application for a job or funding if they knew you had a black husband?’

This was — odd. She had thought of a hundred reasons why William might not want her, all focused on herself. She had never thought his skin colour was an issue.

Yet he was right. But also wrong.

‘I’m going to live in Gibber’s Creek after my graduation. They’ve already agreed to let me do my residency at the hospital. No one notices the colour of your skin there . . .’

‘They notice,’ he said shortly. ‘Old Matilda ruled the roost long enough — and the Sampsons do now — for no one to be openly racist. But it’s there.’

‘I don’t give two hoots. We can both work there, live there, have friends there. I’ll probably have no choice but to do my residency there anyway, where they know me. I’d always have work of some sort at Gibber’s Creek. So would you . . .’

He shook his head. ‘Is that all you want? To be a country GP in the place you grew up? You haven’t even seen anything else of the world. Alex talks about all the places he plans to practise — do a further degree in the US or Britain, become a specialist. You’d have an incredible life together.’

She was silent for a few seconds. He was right. Life with Alex would be a challenge and an adventure — and frequently exasperating too. Alex Romanov used people, had used her, even if she now knew he could also give with unstinting generosity.