She jumped at a sharp rap at her door, which opened instantly, before she had time to speak. Guy stepped into the room, closing the door with a firm snap behind him.

“Guy, what are you doing here . . . how did Foster let you come up?”

“I gave him no choice,” Guy said curtly. “We can go somewhere other than your bedroom, if you wish.”

Petra shook her head. “No, we can stay here.” She folded her hands in her lap, and looked at him inquiringly. “Do we have to fight?”

He shook his head. “Not unless you wish to. I didn’t come here with that intention.”

“I don’t wish to.”

“Good.” He perched on the deep windowsill, crossing his legs at the knee, one foot swinging carelessly as he looked at her with an air of mild exasperation. “What do you know about compromise, Petra?”

“Don’t be so damned patronizing,” she exclaimed, jumping off the bed. “How dare you march into my bedroom and start lecturing me on compromise. You really are a complete arse, Guy.”

The sudden shocked silence was deafening. Petra didn’t move, just stared wide-eyed at him, horrified at what she’d said. Guy looked momentarily astounded, then quite suddenly began to laugh, throwing up his hands in defeat. “Yes, yes, I am, my sweet. You have every right to hurl insults at me. I came with soft words and sweet thoughts in my head and my gremlins got the better of me. Forgive me, and let us start again.”

Petra hesitated, but his laugh was so infectious and the glint in his eyes so inviting that she finally managed to laugh herself. “Yes, perhaps we should. I’m sorry, I should never have called you that, but you made me so furious. What compromises did you have in mind? They can’t all be on my side.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that they should.” He had sobered now, his expression serious again. “I am willing to agree to a small wedding from your family home in Somerset, if you are willing to agree that the engagement will be celebrated in Berkeley Square, in Granville House. I will take charge of the celebration and the guest list, which will be extensive and include every important family in town.”

Petra absorbed this. She looked at it from every angle and apart from her innate dislike of big parties, she could find no fault. It would only be one evening. Slowly she nodded. “I could live with that.”

“Thank the Lord for that.” He gave a deep sigh of relief, getting up from the window seat, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Give me your hand, sweetheart.”

She held out her right hand and he shook his head impatiently. “No, not that one. The left hand.”