Miranda had been enrolled in a boarding school in Sussex when she was fourteen, and had succumbed to seduction almost immediately by one of the prefects. Unlike most young ladies with crushes on their seniors, Miranda didn’t grow out of it when she left school—she simply widened her scope to include boys. Partners of both genders felt threatened by this ambivalence, and by the time she was out of her teens she had become duly diplomatic. This was to end when she met her future partner.

As a youngster she’d been athletic, which prepared her for her second passion, dancing. Having enjoyed the benefits of discipline early, it was to become a welcome tool in her considerable kit. As soon as her academic schooling was over, rather than go to Florence or Geneva for ‘finishing’, she opted for a theatrical school that emphasised ballet, and improved not only her voice and poise, but also her physique. It was the high regard she had for her body that saved her from a life completely without moderation.

Another of her unusual characteristics was the ability to train alone, and although she enjoyed a formal class now and then, generally favouring the Pilates system, she didn’t allow this luxury to become an excuse for not training alone on the other days of the week. One of the changes that marriage brought to her life was a live-in training partner. Her husband’s knowledge of anatomy and its muscular structure was extensive, and he furthered the work she began.

Working under his guidance, she achieved the vital quarter-inch on each calf (so that they, along with her ankles and knees, touched when she stood with her legs together), and also, once she’d seen it, a washboard stomach similar to her husband’s. Urged on by him, she entered the ‘Most Beautiful Body in Europe’ competition; he had supervised her training, even carrying with him a pair of scales to calculate her food intake whenever they dined out. When she won hands down, she was glad she had taken her husband’s advice and entered under an assumed name.

Her husband never allowed too much mundanity to enter their lives. Even a supper at the Savoy Grill could be transformed by having her dress up as a hooker for the evening. Miranda didn’t feel diminished by any of the escapades he put her up to; in fact, quite the opposite: a whole new and different world had opened up to her after their union. He sharpened himself against her and she formed herself upon his edge, or so he believed.

Those people who had known them individually before they were married—and were not shocked by the subsequent antics—considered their coming together as delightful. One wag, who had been briefly included in their shenanigans, likened them to the combination of fresh pepper and salt added to fruit salad.

On the morning of Fleur’s Midsummer’s Eve party, Miranda awoke with the same excitement she felt on the first mornings of her freedom away from home. She switched on the upstairs radio, expecting to find the mishmash of music and minor celebrities that accompanied her initial workout. Instead, she found the station her other half had been tuned to; a ball-by-ball account of the Lord’s Test match. As she reset the wavelength, she was already thinking of him.