A sudden breeze picked up and a sigh ran through the knotted old branches of the bearded oaks in the woods beyond the ha-ha. It did not seem like a reproachful sound, but one of quiet approval. Beatrice felt suddenly that the house, and its gardens, and the entire estate, realised what she was doing and were glad. The windows in the Gothic façade of Half Moon House shone back at her like smiling eyes from their walls of creamy-yellow Caen stone. The towers and turrets formed a crown that pierced the perfect blue dome of sky above. It looked more beautiful to her than ever before.

Mine, she thought, with another rush of determination. This is all mine, and no one is taking it from me.

‘Please,’ Eustace began, ‘do not distress yourself by—’

‘I am n-not distressed.’ She took a deep breath and looked up, willing him to understand. ‘Please. L-Listen. I would n-not make a g-good wife. I am not m-made the r-right w-way.’

‘What nonsense is this?’

She took his hand. ‘I am …’ She forced the word out like a stone, ‘D-Different.’

He pulled away from her touch. Beatrice let him go and turned to face the guests. ‘I am s-sorry. But th-this wedding. Is c-cancelled. There are r-refreshments in the M-M-Marble Hall. H-Help yourselves. And then, p-please, leave my h-house.’

There was a moment of absolute silence. Beatrice clearly saw Rosa seated a few rows down, both hands pressed to her mouth, her eyes shining with delight. All the other guests were staring at her, mouths agape, their expressions ranging from disgust, to fascination, to anger. The dowager duchess had turned an interesting shade of puce.

‘So be it,’ Eustace finally said. And then strode from the scene without another word.

Beatrice knew she had just done something unthinkable and that there would be grave consequences. Irreparable damage to her reputation. Concerns about the very stability of her mind, in all likelihood. People would say that not only was she a nervous weakling who couldn’t control her tongue, but that she suffered from female hysteria too. And yet, as she watched the duke go, she had space for only one emotion – and that was relief, right down to her soul.

CHAPTER THREE

Later, whilst the other guests enjoyed the scandal and refreshments in the Marble Hall, Rosa sought Beatrice out, where she was packing up the wedding and engagement presents.

‘Good lord, what are you worrying about these trinkets for at such a time?’ Rosa asked. ‘Surely the servants will take care of it?’