Whose court was the ball in? The divorce court if they risked it again, she feared.

A year ago, she and Blair had been together at competitions as owner and rider, discreet dinner party guests amongst Wiltshire allies and utterly zip-mouthed beyond it, love a manageable balancing act in which Verity’s dignity and well-being were always first priority.

By the time Ronnie inherited the stud in trust, their affair had become an open a secret in eventing circles, and Verity’s family were increasingly gunning for Blair. Ronnie’s profile was suddenly so high, the affair felt too risky.

Then there was his jealousy, which was tiresome.

The yard phone started ringing. She hurried back in to grab the kitchen receiver.

‘Compton Magna Stud,’ she shouted through a hailstorm of interference, the line terrible.

‘I wish to speak with Luca O’Brien.’ It was one of the politely exotic, silken-voiced calls Lester got so excited about.

Talking into the snow of crackles, Ronnie explained that he was unavailable, silently adding possibly abducted by aliens. ‘Can I take a message?’

‘Please confirm his current cellphone number?’

Ronnie had no intention of giving it out without credentials; besides which, she’d left her phone in the lorry. ‘May I ask your name?’

The answer was swift, incomprehensibly Arabic, and almost definitely prefaced with the word Prince. ‘And with who am I speaking?’

‘Veronica Ledwell. Call me Ronnie.’ She adopted her honeyed, husky sales voice.

‘One moment, please.’

Just an ordinary prince, she remembered Luca saying. There are seven thousand out there.

Ronnie waited, picking up the pile of post she’d collected from the box at the end of the drive and flicking through the envelopes. Bills, bills and more bills. She cast them aside unopened, receiver crackling in her ear.

‘Hello?’ What was she supposed to call him, she wondered: highness, majesty? ‘Still there?’

‘I am Googling you. Please be patient.’

The cheek! He’d have no luck with her. ‘Our website is under development I’m afraid.’

‘There is adequate information here. You breed horses, Mrs Ledwell. I buy horses.’

‘What serendipity.’ She glanced at the bills. ‘You must visit.’

‘Indeed, but I wish to speak with Luca first.’

Ronnie felt a frisson of expectation as Luca grew in stature, his enigmatic absence less vexing.

‘I’ll get just his number. Wait there.’ She went back out to fetch her phone and look it up. This time, clambering into the lorry cab, she spotted that Blair had left a bulky envelope propped up against the dash, defiantly old school, the Ron in his scratchy handwriting making her reach out to pick it up so that she could trace the letters, hearing his deep growl of a voice. Inside was a CD, Bowie’s Station to Station, a rare boxed set. She turned it over and saw that he’d circled ‘Golden Years’, which made her smile. More scratchy writing beside it. Open the box. Inside was a golden chain with a delicate leaf pendant on it. Looking closer, Ronnie realised it was an olive branch, some of the leaves picked out in diamonds.