He removed his hands from her breasts and straightened up. ‘I must go,’ he said. ‘I have a meeting at the Admiralty in half an hour with two purchasing board officials and a government minister.’

Her flesh felt scorched from his touch and her eyes followed him as he crossed the room, picking up his hat and cane. When the door closed behind him she bit her lip, passionately hoping he was speaking the truth about going to the Admiralty and that he hadn’t acquired a mistress, however temporary.

‘Another few weeks,’ she said fiercely as she heaved herself cumbersomely to her feet, ‘and then there’ll be not the slightest risk of his looking at another woman.’

Confident of her ability to keep him sexually enthralled, she crossed to the window. In a few minutes, he would step from the house and into his waiting Daimler Mercedes and she always loved watching him when he thought himself unobserved.

Even from a distance there was an air of power about him. As he walked to the motorcar his hat was still in his hand, and in the late afternoon sunlight his fair hair gleamed the colour of ripe wheat.

She rested her hand on the bulge of her belly. Life was good, and when Berthold renounced his position as head of the House of Remer in favour of Josef, it would be even better. That Berthold would very soon be taking such an action she knew because Josef had told her he would be doing so. And when it came to managing his elder brother, she trusted her forceful husband utterly.

The next morning, when she was certain that Josef had left the house, Vicky made her way to Zelda’s bedroom.

‘Have a cup of Schokolade, Vicky darling,’ Zelda said, pushing herself up against her pillows, a scarlet ribbon holding her waist-length hair away from her face. ‘And to what do I owe such an early morning visit?’

Vicky sat down on the edge of Zelda’s bed. ‘I want to talk to you about Paul.’

‘Ah. I knew you took him to the park yesterday. Did he misbehave?’

‘Paul? Don’t be ridiculous, Zelda. He never misbehaves, not on any serious level.’ Taking advantage of the spare cup and saucer on the breakfast tray, Vicky poured herself a hot chocolate. ‘And why do you talk to me in English, when you don’t talk to Paul in English? He hates you speaking to him in German, and I don’t blame him. He gets enough practice in German in his school lessons.’

‘No, he doesn’t.’ There was no doubt at all in Zelda’s voice. ‘Germany is now Paul’s home. Both Josef and I believe it is essential that as he grows older people think of him as being German and not American, and that he thinks of himself as being German.’

Vicky took a sip of hot chocolate and said, ‘But why should he? He’s an American. He was born in America. His father was American. You are American. Until he was five years old he lived entirely in America. Trying to make him into something he isn’t, simply isn’t fair, Zelda.’