“And then of course, you’ll see him again at dinner at my parents’ house,” she continued.

“Oh, yes,” said Caroline. “Dinner at your parents’ house.”

“They’re really looking forward to seeing you,” said Emma. “They really love Matthew, and they were so disappointed you couldn’t make it last time you were in town.”

“Yes,” said Caroline. “Remind me again where they live.”

“Islington,” said Emma. “Sort of north and east of Westbourne Grove, and not too far from us, in fact. Matthew will write the address down, and you’ll just show it to the taxi driver. It’s a very simple trip across town, it shouldn’t take you too long.”

“I hope not,” said Caroline. “Although let’s not forget that your and Matthew’s ideas of a simple trip across town are rather different from mine. London’s a little bit of a zoo for a mere provincial like me.”

She tinkled the laugh again; but Emma had heard the tremor in her voice, and her heart was touched.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t you and I do something naughty together. Shall I come to meet you at your hotel and we’ll have a glass of champagne first, just the two of us, to get us in the mood? Then we can both grab a cab and arrive at my parents’ together.”

“Oh,” said Caroline. “Well, that would be rather fun, I must say.” Her voice had lifted, become almost girlish. “Yes, let’s do that,” she said. “My treat.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” said Emma.

“Congratulations,” said Matthew when they had hung up. “You’ve just landed yourself with yet another task on the day before your wedding.”

“I’m glad I thought of it,” she told him. “She needs to be made a fuss of. I know she’s Caroline, but there are so many of us and we’re all so close, and she’s all alone.”

“Mm-hmm.” He regarded her with a gaze of bland contentment. “How did she take it,” he inquired mildly, “when you told her about Dad?”

“Oh, God,” said Emma. She had forgotten about Andrew. “I’ll tell her in the taxi, then she’ll have to come to dinner after all.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” he said. “She won a medal at the last Olympics for leaping out of doors at traffic lights.”

Emma laughed; then thought of the evening and groaned.

“When I get to Granville House,” she said, “I’m going to check straight into the massage room and not leave it for the entire weekend.”

Granville house hotel and Spa, where the sisters went the following weekend for Emma’s hen party, was a graceful old manor house of yellow stone, set on acres of rolling grounds, with four-poster beds in the rooms and a roaring fire in the lobby.

“It’s sort of suspiciously nice, actually,” said Emma as they lay in the steam room, massaged, manicured, and replete with excellent food, on the Saturday afternoon. “For what we’re paying. I hope Charlie isn’t sneakily subsidizing this.”