‘Thank you, Alex. You always say the right thing. Do come in. Jarvis will see to your luggage.’ She walked away quickly, heading towards the study where she hoped to find Piers, but just as they passed the drawing room the door opened and Patricia flounced into the hallway. She came to an abrupt halt.

‘You! You’re the last person I wanted to meet.’

Alexander acknowledged her with a brief nod. ‘Patricia.’

‘Is that all you have to say to me?’

‘Patsy, is this absolutely necessary?’ Rosalind demanded angrily. ‘I think you’ve made your feelings perfectly clear. Now please let us pass. I was taking Alex to the study to see Piers.’

‘Well, don’t expect me to stay for luncheon. I told you to send for Heslop so that I can leave immediately.’

‘There’s no need to speak to Rosie like that,’ Alexander said curtly. ‘This is between us, Patsy. I’m sorry you still feel like this, but I was willing to marry you when I returned from France. You are the one who ended our engagement.’

‘And can you blame me? I think you were relieved to be let off so easily. Because of you I was humiliated and left at the altar through no fault of my own.’

‘There’s no talking to you when you’re in this mood,’ Alexander said wearily. ‘I know my way to the study, Rosie.’ He walked off, leaving Rosalind to deal with her sister.

‘I hate you, Alexander Blanchard!’ Patricia pulled a face.

‘You’re being silly now.’ Rosalind grabbed her by the arm and propelled her into the drawing room. ‘You’re behaving like a child.’

‘Let me go.’

Rosalind closed the door behind them. ‘Please sit down and stop making a scene. I’ve sent a message to Greystones and Gurney should be back within the hour. Hester is going to ask Molly if she’s willing to act as your maid, and luncheon will be ready in half an hour.’

‘I don’t want to eat, not if he’s going to be at the table.’

‘Darling, you are being over-dramatic,’ Felicia said, yawning. ‘Save the histrionics for the theatre. Surely you can put up with Alexander for as long as it takes to swallow a few mouthfuls of food.’

‘I can’t bear the sight of him.’

Claude rose from his chair by the window. ‘I think I’ll take a walk before luncheon. I need to stretch my legs after sitting in the carriage for hours.’ He leaned over to kiss his wife on the forehead. ‘I won’t be long, my dear.’

Felicity shrugged. ‘Do as you wish, Claude. Where is the Madeira, Rosie? I’m in need of sustenance, and as for you, Patricia, you are not helping. Stop acting like a prima donna; that’s my prerogative. You will join us for luncheon, or you will go hungry.’