“Seb thinks he’s ready to take your place right now,” said Ross. “But if Mellor were to become your deputy, you’d spend your life looking over your shoulder. It’s a golden rule for any chairman only ever to appoint a deputy who, one, isn’t after your job, or two, has unquestionably been overpromoted, or three, is too old to take over from you.”

“Good thinking,” said Emma, “but there’s not a lot I can do to stop him if he can convince a majority of the board to back him. To make matters worse, Seb thinks Mellor may have been in touch with Giles’s first wife.”

“Lady Virginia Fenwick?” said Ross, spitting out the words.

“And possibly Alex Fisher as well.”

“Then you’d better start looking over both shoulders.”

*   *   *

“Now tell me, revered aunt,” said Seb, “are you chancellor of the university yet?”

“The Duke of Edinburgh is our chancellor, as you well know,” said Grace.

“Then what about vice-chancellor?”

“Not everyone is quite as ambitious as you, Seb. For some of us, doing a worthwhile job, however humble, is reward enough in itself.”

“Then have you thought about principal of your college? After all, no one is more admired by their colleagues.”

“It’s kind of you to say so, Sebastian, and I will tell you in confidence that when Dame Elizabeth retired from the post recently, I was approached by one or two people. However, I made it clear that I wasn’t born to be an administrator but a teacher, and am happy with my lot.”

“I can’t argue with that,” said Seb.

“But tell me, Seb, as you’re on your own tonight, should I assume there’s still no one special in your life?”

“There hasn’t been anyone special, Aunt Grace, since I was stupid enough to lose Samantha.”

“I agree that wasn’t your most glorious hour. I realized the first time I met her that she was an exceptional young woman, and on that particular subject I speak with some authority.”

“You were right. I’ve never met anyone since who even comes close.”

“I’m sorry, Seb, it was tactless of me to raise the subject, but I’m sure, given time, you’ll find someone.”

“I wish.”

“Are you still in touch with Samantha? Is there even the slightest chance…?”

“Not a hope. I’ve written to her several times over the years, but she doesn’t reply.”

“Have you thought of going over to America and admitting you were wrong?”

“Every day.”

*   *   *

“How’s your campaign to have Anatoly Babakov released progressing?” asked Priscilla.

“I fear progress may not be the right word,” said Harry, who was seated on the opposite side of the table from Giles. “Mind you, one can never be sure with the Soviets. One day you think they might be about to release him, but the next you’re convinced they’ve thrown away the key.”