‘Our feelings are something that cannot be forced,’ she thought, ‘and love must be the same.’

She thought now as she drove in a carriage towards Grosvenor Square that it was going to be very difficult to love Aunt Aline.

‘I must try to love her,’ she reasoned with herself, ‘because she and Uncle George are all I have left to remind me of Papa.’

When she said goodbye to Sister Benedict, who had brought her to London, and to the other pupils who were being carried on to their homes, she felt as if she was saying goodbye to everything that was safe and familiar and embarking on an unknown sea that was rough and very unpredictable.

Dalton the butler, however, welcomed her as she entered the hall.

“Nice to see you home, Miss Honora!” he said. “I hope you’ve had a good journey.”

“Yes, thank you,” Honora replied. “Is my uncle here?”

“He’ll be back shortly, miss, but her Ladyship’s waiting for you in the drawing room.”

He preceded Honora up the elegantly carved staircase and opened the double mahogany doors of the drawing room with a flourish.

“Miss Honora, my Lady!” he announced.

Honora saw that her aunt was sitting at the far end of the room.

There was a fire burning in the grate although it was a warm spring day and the room was fragrant with the scent of hothouse flowers.

Her aunt, dazzlingly beautiful in a crimson silk gown, watched Honora’s approach.

There was no welcome in her dark eyes and, as her niece drew nearer to her, there was a sudden tightening of her lips.

Although Honora was not aware of it, she was far lovelier than the Countess remembered or had expected.

“So you have arrived!” she said in a tone that did not sound very pleased.

Honora curtseyed.

“I am afraid I am a little late, Aunt Aline, but it has been a long journey and it was very rough crossing the Channel.”

The Countess seemed to look her up and down before she said,

“I expect you want to change, but as I am going out I want to talk to you before you do so. You had better sit down and listen to what I have to say.”

“Yes, of course, Aunt Aline,” Honora said obediently and seated herself in a chair opposite her aunt’s.

Her eyes were full of admiration as she looked at the picture her aunt made, posed in effect – for it could hardly have been an accident – in a high-backed chair covered in petit-point.

It picked out the colour of her gown, while her dark hair was silhouetted against a huge vase of Madonna lilies.

“You look, Aunt Aline, as if you ought to be hanging in the Uffizi Gallery!” Honora said impulsively, and just for an instant the hard look in Aline Langstone’s eyes softened.

Then she said, glancing at the clock,

“I have to leave in five minutes and what I have to tell you will not take long.”