Oliver went into a small anteroom in the vestibule, undecided if he was furious or delighted to be summoned here by Kerensa. To walk back in with her on his arm, as she had requested via Rachael, would silence one line of gossip and open up another. Many people would see it as a sign of reconciliation. It’s what he wanted more than anything – when all was resolved. Could that ever be with a certain detestable individual still skulking within her easy reach? A reach she may have closed up entirely. He knew he could not reasonably expect her to stay away from Vellanoweth, yet saw her continuing visits there as disloyalty to him, and uncaring and selfish. She had shifted a lot of ground away from him, a distance which might never be re-established.

‘Thank you for coming out to me,’ Kerensa said. She was nervous but set proud, and she found herself moving several steps closer to him. ‘I can hardly go in without you, Oliver. I would like to be at the ball for Livvy’s sake.’

‘Perhaps for her sake it would be better if you had stayed away.’ He kept his gaze severe, yet was admiring her. She was wearing a fur-trimmed cloak, pearls were threaded through her hair. Strong yet delicate, fine and lovely, and somehow elusive, she looked as if she had stepped out of a legend.

Kerensa took a moment to calm her thudding heart. ‘I know there will be tittle-tattle, but she’s my daughter and I want to give her my support. If you send me away I’ll simply go. I wouldn’t dream of disgracing you by entering alone.’

The sound of his harsh breathing filled the small room.

‘Please, Oliver…’

The option of her leaving was one he did not want. Enter the gathering and damn the county! It’s what he would have thought at any other time, but it wasn’t his priority. To send her away would be to broaden their rift and that scared him. ‘And I would not dream of denying your request.’

They left the privacy of the small room and he waited for her to remove her cloak, greeting more arrivals with cool politeness.

‘On your own, eh, Pengarron? Eh?’ Ralph Harrt enquired with underlying sarcasm, while his silly, petulant wife giggled behind her fan.

Oliver fixed the coroner and his spouse with a hard stare. ‘Most definitely not.’

When Kerensa rejoined him, he saw her in the full light of the chandeliers, in all her excellence. Her gown was of russet-coloured watered silk and gold lace, the colours which suited her so well. A ruby necklace sat enchantingly round her throat. The Harrts too saw her exquisite beauty, judging from their gasps and mutterings.

It wasn’t just to save face that Oliver put his lips close to Kerensa’s ear. ‘I have never seen you looking so beautiful, Kerensa.’