Rosa beamed. ‘How clever you are!’ she said. It was always wise to flatter a man’s ego, of course, and she took every opportunity to do so where Eustace was concerned, but this time she was genuinely pleased.

‘Not at all,’ the duke replied. He looked suddenly serious. ‘If there is ever anything you lack, no matter how small, then you must tell me at once. When you are mistress of Raven Hall, and my wife, you will want for nothing. That I promise you.’

Rosa smiled. Champagne and happiness filled her with tiny golden bubbles, and she felt as if she would burst. And why not? In a matter of weeks she would have everything she had ever wanted.

And yet … when James left the ball a short while later, she noticed Cookie trail him across the dance floor and then sit motionless, staring expectantly at the doorway, as if hopeful that he would soon return. The sight of her little dog waiting patiently like that nagged at her in a way she could not fully explain. Eventually, she called the pug to her side. She would not allow herself to feel unsettled. Not on a night like this, when there were so many wonderful things to feel thrilled about.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Singapore – February 1837

Beatrice sat in the auction hall and tried to cool her face with the large folding fan she’d obtained from the market. There were ceiling fans working above, but the heat was still intense – almost a physical burden that rested heavily upon her shoulders. The wooden chair was unforgiving against her legs and she could feel sweat soaking into her skirts. She had originally intended to be outside, exploring the flora and fauna along the rivers, but she’d heard of this shadow auction and managed to gain admittance at the last moment. So far it had been a disappointment, with nothing pertaining to the Winter Garden at all, but then the auctioneer announced the next item.

‘Up next we have the Tiger of Stars, which is, of course, from the fabled Winter Garden with which many of our collectors will be familiar.’

Beatrice lowered her fan and sat up a little straighter in her seat. Two staff members wheeled out a trolley and removed a velvet cloth to reveal a glorious sparkling tiger. It was not made of stars, but from hundreds of tiny diamonds that sparkled and flashed in the sunlit space.

Just like that, Beatrice was a child again, back among the pines of the Winter Garden. The little domed ice house had peeked out shyly from amongst the trees at the very edge of the grounds. Covered in frosted moss, the building had seemed like something from fairyland, a home for trolls, perhaps, or ice witches. Even the trees surrounding it were lovely, with sugar mice and glass angels slowly twisting and turning from their branches.