‘These things happen in their own good time,’ Rosalind said stoutly. She was not prepared to admit the disappointment she felt when her hopes were raised, only to be dashed each time she thought she might have conceived. If they had a child she was certain that Piers would spend more time at home, and he might even allow Pedrick to manage the mine on his own. Sometimes she felt that the business came first and she came a poor second. But that was unfair: Piers provided handsomely for them and he was keeping two households. He understood her love for Rockwood and had never reproached her for wanting to live in her ancestral home. He also realised that his grandmother ruled the household at Trevenor and would never relinquish her position to a younger woman. Piers was a good husband.

‘Did you hear what I said, Rosie?’

Patricia’s impatient voice broke into Rosalind’s reverie and she came back to earth with a start. ‘I’m sorry, I was miles away. But you mustn’t worry about anything, Patsy. I’m sure that all brides have second thoughts so close to the wedding, but it’s just an aggravation of nerves. When you see Alex again you’ll know why you promised to marry him.’

‘I hope so, Rosie. I just want to know that he’s on his way. It worries me that we’ve heard nothing.’

Rosalind slid the newspaper beneath a cushion on the sofa. ‘We have just over a week before the wedding. Alex will be here and so will Bertie.’

‘You’re right, of course. I’m just allowing my nerves to get the better of me.’

‘There’s nothing we can do other than wait. You should follow Mama’s example and have a rest before dinner. I’ll send Tilly to do your hair and then Mama won’t be able to find anything to criticise.’

‘You’re so sensible, Rosie,’ Patricia said with a reluctant smile. ‘You always know what to do and what to say. I wish I were more like you.’ She left the room and Rosalind retrieved the newspaper. The article blurred before her tear-filled eyes as she read it over and over again. She tore it into strips and threw them onto the fire, watching the paper curl and blacken in the flames. At least Patsy would not come across the terrible news by accident, but the destruction of the evidence did nothing to dispel Rosalind’s fears. She had to keep busy and she returned to the escritoire to check her lists yet again. She was poring over them when Claude entered the room.

‘Did you tell her?’ he asked breathlessly. ‘It doesn’t bode well, Rosie.’

‘I couldn’t. She’s in enough of a state without adding to her worries.’