‘And is that how you feel about Harry’s death too? That it is something you could put behind you in Berlin?’

‘Of course I could put it behind me if there was no gossip about it. And as no one in Berlin knows that Harry threw himself into the East River, there will be no gossip, will there?’

‘No,’ Vicky said slowly, realizing that Zelda was in deadly earnest about acquiring Josef Remer as a husband. ‘But we’re only in Berlin for a few days, Zelda. How can you get a proposal out of him in only a few days?’

‘I don’t suppose I can, but I can make an impression and I already have. He’s never met anyone like me before and he’s hooked. I just know he is. And when we return from Italy, I won’t re-cross the Atlantic. I’ll stay in Europe—and I’ll make sure he knows where to find me.’

It was all so calculatingly thought out—and so bereft of romance—that Vicky was no longer bursting to confide her own news. Zelda wouldn’t understand about love at first sight—or love at very nearly first sight. And she wouldn’t be able to explain to Zelda just why she was so certain she was in love. Saying she instinctively knew she and Berthold were kindred spirits would mean nothing to Zelda and she didn’t want the precious emotion he had kindled in her to be dismissed or, even worse, ridiculed.

She slid from the bed. ‘I’m tired, Zelda,’ she said truthfully. ‘Goodnight, God bless.’

‘Night, Vicky darling.’

As Zelda rang for her maid, Vicky crossed to the door, opened it and paused. There was something she had forgotten to say.

‘You’re wrong about all Germans being buttoned-up and contained,’ she said. ‘Not all of them are. Berthold isn’t.’

As Zelda’s eyebrows rose nearly into her hair, she closed the door.

The next morning, much to Vicky’s pleasure, Berthold breakfasted with them. To Zelda’s annoyance, Josef did not.

‘Instead of accompanying your father on his visit to the clothing factory this morning, why don’t you let me show you the Tiergarten and the Zoological Gardens?’ he said, speaking to them both.

As Zelda sucked in her breath, about to refuse, Vicky said hurriedly, ‘Oh, that would be lovely, Herr Remer.’ She smiled at him sunnily, so happy she could hardly breathe. ‘The Tiergarten is a park, isn’t it? We have lovely parks in Yorkshire. One of them, in Bradford, is within sight of the mill.’ She was aware of Zelda rolling her eyes to heaven and didn’t care. ‘Can Paul and his nanny come with us? Paul would love the zoo.’

‘Of course he can.’ He beamed back at her, the morning sun catching on the lenses of his spectacles. ‘We can’t leave the little chap behind. In an hour’s time, then? That won’t be hurrying things too much for you, will it?’

‘No,’ Vicky said, certain it was going to be one of the most perfect mornings of her life. ‘An hour won’t be hurrying things at all.’