‘Indeed we have,’ Kitty said encouragingly.

‘We’ve always been good friends, have we not?’

‘Yes,’ Kitty agreed affably.

‘Do you think we could be more to each other? I mean, well, Kitty, would you consider being my wife? Marrying me and becoming my wife?’

‘I might,’ she replied, ‘if you got on and asked me.’

Justin could hear the laughter in her voice and he dropped to one knee beside her chair. ‘Will you, Kitty?’

‘Will I what, Justin?’

‘Oh, Kitty, you know what I’m asking. Will you marry me?’

‘Yes, Justin, thank you.’

He grasped her hands again and said, ‘Do you mean it?’

‘If you do,’ she replied with a smile.

‘Of course I do,’ cried Justin, pulling the jeweller’s box out of his pocket. ‘And here is my grandmother’s ring to prove it.’ He opened the box and took out the emerald ring it contained, slipping it on the third finger of her left hand. Then he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Campbell, emerging into the garden with the tea tray, saw Mr Justin on one knee beside Miss Kitty and, thinking, About time too, retreated into the house unseen.

‘Perhaps we should go and find your parents now,’ Justin said, ‘and tell them the good news.’

‘Of course.’ Kitty stood up and found herself gathered into Justin’s arms. He kissed her cheek and then, when she made no move to pull away, kissed her on the lips. Her first real kiss.

It was not the one she had been hoping for. Kitty knew that she must marry and she was fond of Justin, but she knew he would always be second best and could only hope that he did not. It was Rupert, so charming and carefree, so different from his more conventional older brother, who had long ago captured her heart, but he had always treated her like Fran, as another sister. And even if he had returned her devotion, she knew that as the younger son, not heir to the baronetcy and its estate, her father would never have countenanced such an alliance.

If I put away all thoughts of Rupert, she thought as she and Justin walked hand in hand back to the house, if I forget all about him, I can be happy with Justin and I hope I can make him happy too.

Chapter 7

Rosalie St Clair dropped into an armchair in the drawing room of the house in the Avenue Ste Anne and sighed. It was good to be home again after such a long day and she felt unexpectedly tired.

What is the matter with me? she wondered as she rang for Didier the butler to bring her some cake and a glass of wine. I feel every day of my age.

At just forty-eight Rosalie was not old. Heavier than she had been in her youth, following the birth of her five children, she carried her age well. Generous of figure, she was still a good-looking woman. Her dark eyes, deep-set behind thick, dark lashes, could still sparkle with pleasure, her generous mouth curved readily into a smile that lit her face, but her once-glossy dark hair was now laced with threads of grey and there were times, as now, when she found her energy seemed to have seeped out through the soles of her feet.