She had said as much to Alexander the last time he was home on a short twenty-four-hour leave two months ago to finalize the wedding arrangements, and he had shaken his head, looking sheepish. ‘I agree with you, Rose, in principle,’ he’d admitted, ‘but I feel I’m being somewhat hypocritical. At home everything is done by the servants and even in the army my batman attends to my needs. I confess I have never made a cup of tea in my life either.’

‘Not ever?’ She’d stared at him incredulously.

‘Not once.’

‘But you wouldn’t be averse to doing so on the grounds that it’s women’s work?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Good.’ He had just brought her back to the flat from Highfield Hall, where they had been discussing the reception with Arabella. It hadn’t been an easy conversation. Alexander’s mother was determined to turn the ballroom, where they would sit down to eat, into a vision of loveliness and the flowers she had spoken of alone would feed a family for months. Rose was in great need of a cup of tea and she’d said, ‘Then you can make us both one now while I put Betsy to bed.’

His face had been a picture.

‘You will find everything you need in the kitchen,’ she’d said briskly, resisting the laughter bubbling up inside, ‘and it’s three teaspoonfuls of tea in the brown teapot. And make sure the water is boiling, all right?’

After settling Betsy and reading her a story, something Betsy still loved even though she could read herself, she had returned to the sitting room to find Alexander looking inordinately pleased with himself. A tea tray complete with a plate of biscuits was waiting for her. He had looked so sweet, she had surprised him and herself by flinging herself into his arms and covering his face in kisses. By the time they’d eventually got round to drinking the tea it was lukewarm, but neither of them had minded.

She was still smiling to herself at the memory when she and Betsy left the house and emerged on to the pavement, Betsy clutching the bag of coconut ice for Amy. After locking the door she took Betsy’s hand, and it was then that a figure emerged from the shop doorway to their left.

‘Hello, Rose,’ said Nathaniel softly. ‘It’s been a long time.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Nathaniel watched the shock on Rose’s face turn to fear, but his voice expressed none of the satisfaction he felt when he drawled, ‘You left without saying goodbye all those years ago, didn’t you. Now I ask you, was that any way to treat me? What made you do a thing like that?’