He takes off his evening jacket and wraps it over her shoulders. She is enveloped in his scent – the spice of the fragrance he wears, mixed with port and cigarettes. It makes her feel protected. She leans into him, wanting to be closer.

‘One day, when you’re in government, we’ll have the chance to make a difference in the world.’

He kisses the top of her head. ‘We shall.’

‘Build hope as well as houses.’

‘I might use that. That’s a rather good line.’ He puts an arm about her and draws her nearer. ‘I knew I was marrying you for a reason. I thought your piece was splendid, by the way. For the Gazette. I felt very proud.’

‘Not proud enough to let me write your speeches.’

‘Not quite. But I’ll expect you to comment, make suggestions, share in the process.’

‘Well, you can’t take all your ideas from my father and Arthur MacKenzie if you want to appeal to anyone under thirty. The time of the old men is passing, and you need to speak to the people who will matter in the future, even if some of them still haven’t the vote.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m quite sure you won’t let me forget them. Neither will the strident harpies with their placards. Ow!’

She pinches him at the waist, giggling. ‘No, I shan’t let you forget them.’ She rests her head on his chest and is quiet for a moment as he finishes his cigarette in the darkness.

She has never been this close to him: so close that the power of him almost overwhelms her. He is quiet as he looks out across the garden, and all she can hear is the strong and steady beat of his heart.

Together, they will conquer the world; she knows it. Their marriage, a union of equals, will offer inspiration for others.

She reaches out a hand, tentatively pressing her fingertips to the front of his shirt, exploring him through the starched cotton. She feels his muscles contract at her touch. He bends closer and kisses her hair again. She holds her breath and looks up at him, trembling a little.

Ralph flicks the cigarette away into the flowerbed and grasps the lapels of the jacket, drawing her closer still, kissing her, softly at first, and then as he did once before – as though he might devour her. Her whole body feels as though it is melting into his.

‘I’m not surprised you’re feeling the chill in this dress,’ he murmurs, pulling his head away for a moment, allowing her to catch a breath. ‘There’s barely anything of it. Wonderful.’ Then he kisses her again, his tongue in her mouth.