Instead the conversation always seemed to get round to her father, which from her point of view was far more interesting and enjoyable.

However, she was very careful not to mention either her mother or her father in front of her aunt.

She was by now, quite accustomed to the scathing remarks the Countess made about the debts her father had left behind him and the opportunities he had missed by not making a good marriage.

“Anyway,” she had said, “you will make up for his deficiencies on that score and don’t forget that as a Duchess you should spend a great deal of time looking after the poor on your husband’s estate and also visiting hospitals, orphanages and schools.”

As she had repeated this several times, Honora hoped that once she was married her aunt would not organise her life in the same way as she was doing so now.

‘I need to have time to read, to think, and to – talk to – the Duke,’ Honora told herself.

She was not quite sure why she felt it was so vital that they should talk to each other.

But the mere idea of spending the rest of her life surrounded by people having parties every night and still being an outsider because she could not share their jokes or their memories, horrified her.

“I will run away!” Honora said aloud.

She thought as she did so that it would then be too late for the Queen to insist on the Duke marrying Princess Sophie.

Anyway there would have to be a decent interval before he could become engaged for the second time.

The cheers of the crowd followed her into the cool dimness of the ancient Church.

It had been enlarged at the same time as her grandfather had redecorated the house.

Nearly all the guests had somehow managed to be seated with the exception of a number of tall good-looking ushers, who had shown them to their seats.

One of them smiled at Honora as she entered the Church and, because there was no mistaking the admiration in his eyes, she somehow felt a little comforted and was not so nervous.

Nevertheless she held on tightly to her uncle’s arm as they moved slowly up the aisle to where the Duke was waiting for her at the chancel steps.

As she stood beside him, Honora was vividly conscious that once again he was hating her and resenting the part he had to play of being a bridegroom.

Although she tried to pray, she found it hard to think of anything but the feelings of the man beside her.

When he put the wedding ring on her finger, she knew that as he did so he was almost at the point of refusing to go on with it.

If she had wanted to run away, so had he, and she wished that she could have talked to him beforehand, so that they could perhaps have made an arrangement by which they could have both escaped.