She’d come into town to get some legal advice on her position within the family business. She’d hoped there would be a loophole she could apply which would give her some sort of voting power or at least something she could use to apply pressure on the Sinclairs to allow her a vote on issues such as the sale of the land. As it turned out, there was nothing. It frustrated the hell out of her.

The call had been from Pru, asking her to be a darling and pick up her evening dress from the dry cleaners.’

Pick up her evening dress from the dry cleaners! Who the hell did Pru think she was talking to? Elizabeth wasn’t some sort of PA!

Elizabeth eyed the garment bag from Jones’ dry cleaners, which she had carefully laid over the chair next to her so as not to crease it. Pru wanted it for a dinner party she was attending that evening. Elizabeth drummed her acrylic nails on the table, and a small smile tipped the corners of her mouth. She sloshed some of her coffee into the saucer before reaching over and unzipping the garment bag. Taking the edge of the dress, she turned the pale blue fabric over and, making sure no one was paying her any attention, she dripped the coffee from the saucer onto the silk. The muddy-coloured latte bloomed to the size of an apple.

Elizabeth’s smile broadened. That would teach the old bag a lesson. Pru probably wouldn’t even notice it until she was getting dressed and turned to admire herself in the full-length mirror of her dressing room. The coffee would well and truly have dried by then and it would be too late for Pru to do anything about it.

Elizabeth would, of course, deny all knowledge and claim it must have happened at the dry cleaners. No one would suspect she’d do anything like that – why would they?

Zipping up the garment bag, Elizabeth returned to her coffee – God, that tasted even better now. A small victory, with the only downside being Elizabeth wouldn’t be there to see the look on her mother-in-law’s face when she eventually spotted the stain. It would, of course, be awful if she didn’t spot it until she was already out. Yes, that would be dreadful.

As she sat back smugly in her seat she cast a glance out of the window, absently watching the people of Kendalton go about their business. Something – or, rather, someone – on the other side of the street caught her attention. She sat up straighter and there, hurrying along, was Owen Sinclair. Tracking his path, she watched him enter the shop across the road – a bookmakers’.