When they arrived at Greystone Park the huge gates were thrown open. The driveway was illuminated by flaming torches, creating a path of flickering light to guide the carriages to the front of the mansion. Footmen stood on either side of the entrance and grooms were on hand to guide the vehicles to the coach house and stable block. Alexander was there to assist Rosalind to alight and when she hesitated he lifted her gently to the ground.

‘Are you all right, Rosie?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I just felt a bit dizzy, but I’m fine now.’

He assisted Hester to alight before taking Rosalind firmly by the arm. The entrance hall was lit by chandeliers and wall sconces, and the scent of expensive candlewax mingled with the equally costly fragrance of French perfumes and the more mundane bay rum. Rosalind knew most of the guests who thronged together, waiting to be announced as they entered the ballroom, but there were a few new faces and she assumed that they must be Sir Michael’s political allies. The gentlemen had a certain bearing and their ladies were elegant with diamond jewellery flashing in the candlelight. They gathered together, gazing round at the assembled company with barely disguised disdain. These were the people who would have been part of her life had she accepted Sir Michael’s advances.

When they reached Sir Michael he greeted them warmly, as did Christina and Sylvia, and to Rosalind’s surprise, Patricia was included in the family group. For a moment Rosalind was afraid that her sister might snub Alex, but she merely extended her hand with a polite smile and then turned to welcome the next guest.

‘What does she think she’s up to?’ Hester whispered as they followed the rest of the guests into the ballroom.

‘One thing that Patsy is good at is doing exactly the opposite of what is expected of her.’ Rosalind sighed as she tucked her hand in the crook of Alexander’s arm. ‘Let’s find a table where we can sit and watch the proceedings without getting in anyone’s way.’

‘If you’re referring to your condition,’ Alexander said in a low voice, ‘you’ve never looked lovelier, Rosie. Piers should be here to look after you.’

‘It must be something quite urgent or he would have accompanied us. I can’t think what it could be.’

Alexander guided her to a table as far away from the dance floor as possible and he pulled up a chair for Hester, who sank down on it with a grateful smile. ‘Thank you, Alexander. I’ve crammed my feet into my old dancing slippers and they’re agony. I wish I’d worn my boots.’

‘Pride feels no pain – that’s what you used to say to me, Hester,’ Rosalind said, laughing. ‘Now I can say it to you.’