The world fell back into place. Petra shook her head vigorously. “No. No, Guy, of course I will marry you. I love you and there’s nothing I would like more than to share my life with you.”

“Well, that took you long enough,” he responded, his smile now teasing as he bent to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“I’ve never been proposed to before,” she said, laughing against his mouth. “I had to get used to the idea.”

“I’ve never proposed to anyone before,” he returned, cupping her face between his hands.

“Not even to the lady guerrilla in Macedonia?”

“Most definitely not to her.” He kissed her, a deep, affirmative kiss and the last faint wisp of misgiving flew into the ether. When at last they moved apart their surroundings flooded in, the raucous sounds of the crowd, cheering and applauding.

“What happened?” Petra asked. “Which horse won?”

“We’ll find out if we go back.” Guy slipped his hand under her arm. “Shall we keep this between ourselves for the moment?”

“Yes, of course. This is Diana’s day. Oh, I do hope Kimberley Diamond won.” Petra plunged into the crowd, fighting her way back to the box.

Guy shook his head in astonishment. She seemed to have forgotten the last momentous moments, or at least thrust them into the background with no difficulty. He’d rather expected that when a young lady received an acceptable proposal of marriage she would find it difficult to think of anything else and be bursting to share the news. Not so, it seemed. Or at least not where Petra Rutherford was concerned. Anyone would think she received marriage proposals on a daily basis. It certainly put him in his place. The reflection brought a reluctant smile to his lips. He doubted life with Petra would ever be boring, infuriating at times almost certainly, but boring? Never.

“Oh, where were you, Petra?” Fenella cried as Petra pushed through the excited guests in the box. “Diana and Rupert have gone down to the Winners’ Enclosure. Did you see it? It was so exciting.”

“Kimberley Diamond won?” Petra asked, guilt mingling with pleasure at the news.

“Yes, by a hair, just in the very final seconds, she pulled ahead. It was so exciting.” Fenella stared at her. “Where were you? You were right here when the race started.”

“Sudden call of nature,” Petra improvised airily, ignoring her friend’s disbelieving stare. “It couldn’t wait.”

“This calls for more champagne.” Guy appeared opportunely, bottle in hand. “Have a drink and then we’ll go and collect your winnings, Petra.” He filled Fenella’s glass. “Has Edward gone to collect yours?”