She sighed heavily. “You might not have noticed you haven’t said a single thing about how you feel, but I have. No, you haven’t,” she said as he started a protest. “Because you’re Will Darling, stubborn as a mule and tough as old boots, and you don’t like asking for things. You don’t say what you want or how you feel, because that opens you up wide. The only time you’ve ever talked properly to me before was when it was all falling apart at Etchil and you thought it couldn’t get worse.”

“I’m talking to you now,” he protested.

“Yes, and I’m not the one you should be talking to, am I? You say you trust him. But if you trust someone, that means letting them into a position where they can really hurt you, and believing they won’t. And if you’re afraid to do that, either you aren’t sure of them, or you aren’t sure of yourself.”

Kim’s words in his mind: You can be vulnerable if you want. “What does that mean?”

She made a face. “I’m just going to say it. He’s rich and sophisticated and he’s probably going to be a marquess.”

“I hate that,” Will admitted.

“And you don’t think you belong with a rich sophisticated marquess.”

“Would you?”

Maisie doodled on the table with a finger. “Phoebe’s going to be a viscountess. She had the news from the Committee of Privileges this morning. She’ll be Lady Waring in her own right, and she’s got Etchil and all the money.”

“Oh, good. Lovely for her. But that’s not the same thing.”

“Yes it is. It’s exactly the same.”

“How?”

She stared at him. “For pity’s sake, Will! Me and Phoebe are together. We’ve been together for months.”

Will gaped. “You and—”

“You must have realised. Oh, good grief. No, of course you didn’t. Honestly.”

“I had no idea. But—When— Well, no wonder you’re all bubbles these days. Come here.” He gave her the sort of hug she deserved. “Maisie Jones. Take a girl out of Cardiff and look what happens.”

“You should come to Paris. Everything looks different there, I can tell you.”

“Sounds that way. I didn’t know you liked girls.”

“I was a bit surprised myself, to be honest.” Maisie reclaimed her seat and poured more tea. “Or maybe I wasn’t, really. Boxes. Anyway I don’t know if it’s possible not to be in love with Phoebe.”

“It’s pretty tough not to be in love with you, so the whole thing was probably inevitable. Happy?”