‘It grieves me to speak sharply to her, but this is between us, Alex. It’s no one’s business but ours, and neither of us wants to hurt the people who love us.’ Rosalind managed a weak smile. ‘It’s Christmas, we should try to be happy. At least you and Piers are safe and your leg will mend. I just hope Piers makes a full recovery.’

‘I hope so, too.’ Alex leaned back against the pillows. ‘You should try to get some sleep, Rosie. You were up early, and I don’t need anything more tonight. That’s the advantage of being permanently in a nightshirt and dressing robe. I don’t have to bother with boots and buttons, but tomorrow I’m going to get Delfosse to make me a pair of crutches. I’ve had enough of being an invalid. I’ll get back on my feet, if it kills me.’

Delfosse obliged, but only after being paid handsomely for making two wooden crutches that were not exactly works of art, but were strictly functional, which was all Alex had wanted. He persevered with them even though every movement hurt, but he was determined to become mobile.

In the days that followed, Hester did everything she could to prevent Rosalind and Alex being left on their own, and nothing Rosalind could say would persuade her to act differently. Alex found it amusing, and he treated it like a game, snatching a kiss whenever Hester had to leave the room or if her back was turned. Rosalind tried to reprimand him, but she knew that their brief reunion could not last, and soon enough they would return to the lives they had planned.

She could not quite bear to let Alex go, at least not until it became absolutely necessary, but despite her feelings for him her first loyalty was to Piers and she visited him every day. He had regained consciousness and he recognised her eventually, but he was still very unwell. There was little that Rosalind could do other than sit and talk to him, but even that seemed to exhaust him, and the sister on duty would urge her to go away and come back later. Rosalind prayed for a miracle and on New Year’s Eve when she visited the hospital she was met by a smiling Sister Dominique.

‘Madame Blanchard, the fever has broken. Monsieur is still very weak but he has been asking for you.’

‘Thank God,’ Rosalind said fervently. ‘May I see him now?’

‘Of course, Madame. You know the way.’

Rosalind burst into the room. ‘Piers. You’re better.’ She rushed over to the bed and grasped his hand.

He gave her a weak smile. ‘I think the fever has left me.’

‘Sister Dominique seems to think so. It’s such a relief. Now all you have to do is to recover completely. You’ve been very ill, my love.’