Giddy at the speed of events, wondering if Berthold reciprocated her feelings in even the tiniest way and wondering what on earth Zelda would say when she told her, she slid a finger biscuit beneath the table to Wastl, her heart singing like a bird’s.

‘Dear Lord, what a bizarre evening!’ Zelda said the minute they were in the privacy of her bedroom. ‘Only six of us for dinner. Six.’ Though she had seated herself at her dressing table, she shooed her hovering maid away. ‘It would be unheard of in New York. And do Germans always discuss business affairs in front of ladies? Every time the conversation touched on anything remotely interesting, Harald Remer brought it back to the subject of Yorkshire wool!’

Vicky picked up her skirts and climbed onto Zelda’s elaborately carved bed. ‘I think dining en famille was a compliment, not an insult,’ she said, wanting Zelda to be in a good mood before she shared her delicious secret with her. ‘And my father was quite as much at fault as Harald Remer when it came to the subject of Yorkshire wool. It is, after all, why he’s here. It’s a little odd, don’t you think, that the Remer textile factories only make military clothing? How much military clothing can a country at peace need?’

‘I don’t know and I don’t care.’ Not bothering to call back her maid, Zelda pulled the ivory combs out of her hair and shook it free so that it fell in a rippling black waterfall to her waist. ‘Thank heavens Josef lived up to expectations. He’s quite a beau and would make a swell husband. The Remers entertain German royalty. They’re not only stupendously rich, they’re members of the social elite. It would mean living in Berlin—and I would love to live in Berlin. Just think of it, Vicky darling. No more New York. No more murmurs in Rockefeller and Vanderbilt drawing rooms about my pedigree not being quite the thing. And no more hideous gossip about the nature of Harry’s death.’

She swung round to face Vicky, her near-black eyes brilliant. ‘I’ve made up my mind I’m going to have him,’ she said decisively. ‘He may be stiffly formal—all Germans are as buttoned-up and contained as hell—but a new life in Europe is just what I need. And I like the idea of acting as my father-in-law’s hostess and entertaining German royalty.’

‘But how do you know that Josef Remer is even looking for a bride?’ Zelda’s certainty that all she had to do to have Josef Remer as a husband was to crook her little finger, astounded her. ‘And if he were looking for a bride, why should he choose to marry an American? English aristocracy fall over themselves where American heiresses are concerned, but that’s because they’re so often in need of American dollars. The Remers aren’t.’

‘No, and they’re not English aristocracy either.’

Vicky blinked, totally confused.

Zelda said impatiently, ‘So many New York heiresses have married into the English aristocracy that if I did, my history would soon be as well known in London as it is at home. You may think my grandmother’s Iroquois blood glamorous, but take it from me, in England it wouldn’t be regarded as chic. Here, in Berlin, no one will be aware of it—and I shall take great care no one ever becomes aware of it.’