“Diana’s brother. Rupert’s best friend. The filly belonged to Jem and Diana, as a colt she was a present to them both from their father, but she was particularly Jem’s project. When he was killed at Mafeking his share went to Rupert.” Petra grinned. “That was a real bone of contention between Diana and Rupert, d’you remember, Fenella?”

“How could I forget? Diana was mad as fire,” her friend said with a chuckle. “But all’s well that ends well, and now I think they both feel this race is for Jem.”

Guy nodded, he was just beginning to understand the depths of intimacy between Petra and her friends, and their families. The layers went down very far into their shared past. Sometimes he found himself envying them their natural ease and understanding with one another. He was fond of his sister and interested in her life and her family, but he wouldn’t say they were close, not in the way Petra and her brother were. And he’d never really developed any particularly close relationships with either men or women. His love affairs had been satisfying, but not particularly deep, if he was honest.

Until now.

He glanced sideways at Petra, who was laughing at something Fenella had said, her hazel eyes alight, her cheeks slightly flushed with champagne, sun and pleasure, and something seemed to come loose inside him. It felt almost like a spring breaking. If he’d ever tried to imagine the woman who would steal his heart, she wouldn’t have borne the slightest resemblance to Petra Rutherford, small, vivacious, challenging, with little respect for the rites and rituals of society’s dictates. She lacked artifice. What you saw was what you got, and Guy’s experience with women hitherto was that a man had to assume wiles and deviousness in all their dealings. The image of Clothilde rose vividly in his mind’s eye. He enjoyed matching wits with Clothilde, but he wouldn’t trust her any further than he could throw her and knew she felt the same way about him.

“The Royal Procession is just starting.” Jonathan’s voice interrupted his thoughts as the younger man hurried across the box toward them. “Let’s see if we can squeeze into a spot at the front of the box for the first race?”

“Come over here,” Diana called imperatively, waving from where she now stood with Rupert in the middle of the front row of the box. “The Queen Anne Stakes are the third race.”

“Oh, good, I’ve time to put a bet on,” Petra said, fumbling in her handbag for her wallet. “Guy, will you place it for me? How much do you think?”

“How confident are you in the horse?” he asked with an amused smile.

“Oh, totally confident,” she said airily, withdrawing a ten-pound note. “Ten pounds on Kimberley Diamond to win.”