Rosalind smiled as she recalled the state of the Château Gris when they had first arrived, and the bed that Delfosse had dragged down to the drawing room for Alex, when his broken bones made it impossible to cope with the stairs. Their relationship had changed subtly as the days and weeks went by, and the memory of New Year’s Eve, which she had suppressed until now, came back with such force that it took her breath away. No one would believe that they had spent the night sharing a bed as innocently as two children, but the colour flooded her cheeks at the memory of his head on the pillow next to hers when she had awakened next morning. His tumbled hair had flopped across his brow, and his long eyelashes had formed dark crescents on his tanned cheeks. She would never forget the smile that lit his hazel eyes when he opened them and saw her, or the touch of his long slim fingers as he caressed her cheek. Asleep he had looked like an innocent child, but it was a man who had drawn her gently to him and claimed her lips in a kiss that she would remember for the rest of her days. She came back to earth with a start. That was dangerous ground and she must not go there again. She left the room quickly and made her way downstairs.

Her restless mood continued all morning. She had managed to eat enough at breakfast to keep Hester and Piers from commenting on her lack of appetite, and for once she was grateful for the fact that Piers went straight to the study to work on some business papers. Walter never took breakfast with them, preferring to have coffee in the library when he started writing. Louise had arrived on time as usual and the children had begun lessons, leaving Rosalind little to do. She decided to go for a walk with Bob while it was reasonably cool, but she had only just reached the end of the drive when a cloud of dust and the thudding of horses’ hoofs announced the arrival of not one carriage, but two. Rosalind turned on her heel and hurried back to the house with Bob prancing along ahead of her.

She was hot and breathless by the time she entered the cool entrance hall and her hair was escaping from the carefully arranged snood at the back of her neck. It was not so easy to move fast these days, even though Hester assured her that she was small considering her advancing pregnancy.

‘We have visitors, Jarvis.’ Rosalind fanned herself with her hands. ‘There are two carriages but I was only expecting Captain Blanchard.’

Jarvis stepped outside. ‘I think that’s Heslop driving the barouche, ma’am.’

Rosalind stifled a cry of dismay. ‘He’s Mama’s coachman. Oh, no. Do you recognise the other driver, Jarvis?’