She knew he was teasing, but there was a look in his eyes that she remembered only too well. ‘I have better things to do than to pamper you, Alexander.’ Rosalind hurried off without waiting for his response. She could still feel the imprint of his lips on the back of her hand, but a small voice in her head warned her to take care. All the old feelings she had harboured for Alex were in danger of rising to the surface, and she could tell by the warmth in his hazel eyes that she held a special place in his heart. Fate had thrown them together, but neither of them was free to resume their old relationship. She was a married woman with a sick husband who needed her, and Alex was spoken for.

Rosalind made her way to the kitchen and found Delfosse sprawled in a chair at the table with his head in his arms. His snores echoed off the high ceiling, rattling the metal utensils and copper pans that hung above the range. Rosalind ignored him and went to investigate the cold room and the spacious larder. Hester had been busy the night before, plucking, drawing and preparing the geese for the table, and she had made an attempt at making a plum pudding from ingredients that came to hand. The smell of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the air, evoking memories of past Christmas dinners, and Rosalind’s mouth began to water. That aside, she knew she must concentrate on making breakfast, and she remembered that Alex liked porridge.

She worked with a will and set a tray with everything they needed, including a pot of Madame Planche’s strawberry preserve and thick slices of toast.

Alex raised himself on his elbow when she placed the tray on the table by his bed. ‘Is that porridge? Real porridge with cream and sugar.’

‘It most certainly is. I made it to Hester’s exacting standards, I hope.’

‘Can you help me to sit up, Rosie?’

Somewhat reluctantly she moved to his side and he placed one arm around her shoulders. The nearness of him was even more unsettling and Rosalind had to steel herself to remain calm and unflustered. His breath on her cheek was warm and brought memories of their brief romance flooding back.

‘Count to three,’ Rosalind said firmly, ‘and I’ll try to lift you.’

He rested his head momentarily on her shoulder. ‘All right. One, two, three …’ He groaned with pain as their combined efforts slid him up the bed into a semi-recumbent position. ‘Well done, Rosie.’ He leaned on her a little longer. ‘Let me get my breath back.’

‘It’s all right, Alex. Take as long as you need.’

He made an attempt at a smile. ‘I can’t wait to taste the porridge.’ He withdrew his arm slowly. ‘Thank you, my angel. I hope I didn’t hurt you.’