‘If they get married,’ interposed Agathe.

‘I’m sure they will,’ Annette said. ‘Pierre says that Mr Rupert is besotted with her.’

‘Does he now?’ commented Agathe. She had noticed recently that Annette was giving a great deal of weight to what Pierre said. She wasn’t sure whether she was pleased or not. Annette had had a dreadful experience at the hands of Father Thomas, and Agathe was afraid that it might have made her fearful of every man. She liked Pierre, he was a good steady man, but would he understand the very gentle care Annette needed if she were ever to marry? There was nothing she could say in warning – she was bound by her promise to Rosalie that no hint of Annette’s real situation should become known at Belair – but she was also afraid that Annette could be damaged further if she were to marry and her husband expect his conjugal rights without knowledge of what had gone before.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m sure he isn’t thinking of that just now. He will be mourning his brother. They were twins, I believe, which probably means they were very close. I’m sure titles will be the last thing on his mind.’

In the propriety of the drawing room, with Rosalie in attendance though not within earshot, Hélène and Rupert sat in the window embrasure.

‘Does it say what happened?’ Hélène asked.

‘No, just an accident.’

‘And when?’

‘Yesterday,’ Rupert replied. ‘It must have been yesterday when I was taken ill; but I didn’t recognise it for what it was.’

‘When will you leave?’

‘First thing tomorrow. We shall take the train to Paris and then to the coast. I’ve sent Parker to the telegraph office to send a reply saying that I am on my way.’

‘Oh, Rupert! I wish I could come with you!’

Rupert flashed her the smile she had come to love. ‘So do I, my love, but we have to agree that that is impossible.’

‘We could elope?’ she suggested hopefully, and was rewarded with another smile.

‘So we could,’ he agreed, ‘but it wouldn’t answer. It would just upset everyone further still. Remember, we still have to brave your father’s anger!’

That turned out to be less of a trial than they had expected. Emile had grown to like the charming Englishman laying siege to his daughter, and he too had realised that now the elder brother was no longer in the way, Rupert would eventually inherit his father’s title. Of course he made no mention of this now, but it was in his mind as he gave his consent.

‘There can be nothing formal until you return,’ he told Rupert when he applied to him later that evening. ‘Hélène is very young, but if, after a period of mourning for your brother, perhaps in the spring, you are both of the same mind and wish to announce your betrothal, then we shall be happy to give you our blessing.’

It was almost dark when Rupert finally took his leave. Hélène’s parents gave them a few moments’ privacy to say goodbye before he climbed up into his chaise and drove back to the village. For a long moment as he held her close, she felt the warmth of his body against her own. ‘Never forget how much I love you, darling girl,’ he murmured into her hair, and then, with a gentle kiss upon her lips, he let her go.