Rosalind shook her head. ‘You are too good for her, Claude. I know my mother so well – she says what she really means and the next minute she laughs and tries to pass it off as a joke. I’m past being hurt by her jibes.’ She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. ‘Let’s get you settled down by the fire and I’ll make sure you have everything you need.’

‘The weather really is closing in. I expect the roads will be impassable by morning.’

‘That doesn’t sound good, but please don’t mention that fact to Patsy – she’s anxious enough as it is. We can only pray for a thaw.’

They reached the drawing room in time to see Patricia leap to her feet and embrace her mother. ‘Mama, you came. I knew you would.’

Felicia gave her a brief hug and then moved away, shaking out the creases in her travelling gown. Clouds of steam rose from her damp skirts as she sank down in a chair close to the fire. ‘I’ll probably catch my death of cold,’ she said peevishly. ‘I’m chilled to the bone and my voice will suffer in this abominable climate. If I had any sense I would live abroad.’

‘No, no,’ Patricia cried passionately. ‘You must take care of yourself, Mama. I want you to be there when Alexander and I are married.’

‘Where is the bridegroom?’ Felicia glanced round the room. ‘I hope he is here because the roads will soon be impassable.’

‘He is on his way, Mama. Alex’s regiment have been in the Eastern Mediterranean. It’s a secret mission and none of us knows the exact details. Bertie is with him.’

‘I always knew that Bertie would do something heroic. But are you sure you’re doing the right thing marrying a soldier, Patsy?’ Felicia folded her arms, shivering. ‘It’s so terribly cold in England and I can feel a draught.’

‘You mustn’t worry about me, Mama.’ Patricia went down on her knees in front of her mother. ‘It’s lovely to have you at home again. You’ll soon get warm.’

Rosalind sighed. ‘I’ll go to the kitchen and make sure a tray of tea is sent up immediately.’

‘Don’t forget the whisky,’ Claude said in a conspiratorial whisper.