There was also Kitty to consider; she and her family were almost as devastated as Justin’s own. They had liked and respected Justin as a person, but Sir James had been particularly pleased with the alliance because, as he had no male heir, Kitty’s sons would inherit from both sides of the family. It was a blow to his plans, as he didn’t hesitate to say to his wife.

‘Well, please don’t put it in those terms to Katharine,’ she retorted. ‘It’s her fiancé we’re talking about here, the man she was going to marry. Do you not take her feelings into consideration when you speak like that?’

‘Feelings are all very well,’ returned her husband, ‘but this was more than a question of feelings and—’

‘Not for Kitty it wasn’t,’ snapped his wife. ‘And poor Frances is having to look after everything at Pilgrim’s Oak, as her mother has gone into a decline. Understandable, I know, but leaving a lot on Frances’s shoulders.’

‘Well, I hear that she telegraphed for Rupert to come home; he can take control of all that when he gets here. After all, he’s the heir now.’ He looked thoughtfully at his wife and added, ‘Isn’t he.’ And it wasn’t a question; to him it was a thought worthy of consideration. After all, there was not only land at stake here, but a title as well.

Kitty had been achingly miserable since she’d heard the news, but she had controlled her tears and they had only been shed in the privacy of her own chamber. She had of course put on mourning and paid the required visit to Pilgrim’s Oak. Fran had greeted her with a quick embrace and then led her to where Justin was lying in his coffin for her to make her farewells. Left alone in the morning room, she had looked down at his pale face – only it wasn’t Justin’s face any more, it was stiff and waxy and cold. She reached out with one finger and touched his cheek. The chill and texture of it made her draw back in horror, wiping her finger on her sleeve as if to wipe away the feel of his skin.

She looked down at him, and having ensured she was alone in the room and that the door remained closed, she murmured, ‘Goodbye, Justin. We could have been happy, you and I. I shall miss you.’ There seemed no more to say. She hadn’t loved him as a wife should, but she had loved him as an old friend and she was full of sadness at his sudden demise. She dashed away the single tear that had escaped and trickled down her cheek. No! No more tears. She would not cry. Now she had to get through all the condolences and sympathies which would be heaped on her by well-meaning friends and family. They would mention the wedding, they would regret her single state, they would talk about the Justin they knew with little thought to her own memories of him, private and sad. With one last glance at the man she might have married, she turned away, opened the door and went out to face the world.