he dinner had been a tremendous success so far, much to Adam Fairley’s profound relief and satisfaction. He leaned back in his chair at the head of the table, smiling inwardly, and surveyed his guests and the glittering scene that spread out before his eyes.

The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, almost jovial, and everyone appeared to be at ease. It had been a long time since Adam had heard the murmurous sounds of genial chatter and gaiety reverberating against these old walls, and it filled him with a sense of such gratification he was positively startled. At the beginning of the evening he had been suffering from extreme nervousness. It was not unnatural for Adam to feel apprehensive, in view of Adele’s past performances, and whilst he had been able to conceal his fears, he had been uneasy, all of his senses alerted for trouble. But as the dinner progressed without incident, these feelings were lessening and he had started to unbend. From time to time he would marvel that the malaise of his spirit, which had slowly been diminishing in the last few weeks, had now, this night, miraculously disappeared. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders and he felt unfettered and even carefree.

He lifted the crystal glass of champagne Murgatroyd had just refilled and sipped it slowly, savouring its sparkling iciness. The food had been delicious, the wines excellent, and Murgatroyd and Emma had executed their duties with aplomb, as though they were a seasoned team accustomed to handling such a complicated and elaborate dinner every night of the week. He realized this achievement was no accident. It had been accomplished only with Olivia’s expert planning, and her perfect taste was apparent everywhere.

Adam looked down the long expanse of white linen, until Adele was in his direct line of vision. He had watched her closely all night and her behaviour had astounded him. She was charming and attentive to their guests and, on the surface at least, she seemed like the woman she had been years ago. And she looked magnificent. She was flirting outrageously with Bruce McGill, who appeared to be fascinated, much to Adam’s wry amusement. He suspected there was something of the actress in Adele. Certainly she had made a grand enough entrance. Bruce had arrived earlier than the other guests, in order to conclude their business, and they had been strolling across the hall when she had materialized at the top of the staircase. Aware that they had noticed her, she had paused histrionically at the central landing, clinging for a second to the newel post, and then she had floated down the main staircase like Aphrodite descending from the heavens. Bruce, his mouth slightly agape, had been momentarily speechless and, to Adam, he had looked like a stagestruck schoolboy. That expression still lingered on the Australian’s face. Seated at Adele’s left, he was giving his rapt attention to her and Adele’s tinkling laughter drifted down to Adam on the warm air. He narrowed his eyes, observing her closely. For all her beauty there was something oddly removed about her. The Snow Queen. Never to be touched.

Adam’s eyes swivelled to Olivia, who was seated at the centre of the table. She had that special self-assurance so often found in upper-class English women, who were always at ease and in command of themselves and the situation, whether seated on a horse or at a dinner table. She looked just as magnificent as Adele, but in a less brittle way. Her kingfisher-blue silk gown was elegant, and provocatively low-cut, although not quite as daringly so as Adele’s. A choker of sapphires made a ring of blue fire around her neck, the same stones cascaded in linked drops from her small ears, and matching bracelets entwined those superb arms. She was listening quietly to her dinner partner, and in repose her face was serene. Sleeping Beauty. Waiting to be awakened, Adam said to himself, instantly astonished that such an extraordinary thought should have entered his mind.

He caught Olivia’s eye. She was smiling at him warmly and she inclined her head towards the dining-room door. He nodded, understanding that she thought the meal should now be terminated.

Adam gestured to Murgatroyd, who hastened to his side. ‘I assume you have put out liqueurs and cigars in the library, Murgatroyd.’

‘Oh, yes, Squire. The best French cognacs, port, and Bénédictine. Also the usual Scotch and Irish. Mrs Wainright instructed me to put a tray of drinks in the drawing room for the ladies as well.’

‘Excellent, Murgatroyd.’ Adam turned to the female guests seated nearest to him. ‘I know you will excuse us if we gentlemen leave you to your own devices for a short while,’ he said with a smile. He pushed back his chair and looked around the table. ‘Shall we adjourn, gentlemen?’ he continued, standing up. With murmured assents the other men followed suit and filed out of the dining room, chatting amongst themselves.

Upon entering the library, Bruce McGill took a whisky and soda from Murgatroyd and made his way to the fireside. Bruce was in his late forties, tall and spare, and with the rolling gait of a man who has spent his whole life on a horse. He had thick and curling brown hair above a craggy face, one that automatically inspired confidence, especially in women, and his eyes were merry. His manner was masculine and there was a dashing air about him that was most engaging.

He joined Adam and said, ‘Here’s to your health, laddie, and a long and successful business relationship.’ He smiled broadly and his eyes twinkled, ‘I think it goes without saying that we will have a most rewarding friendship.’ He clinked glasses with Adam.

‘And to you, too, Bruce.’ Adam had taken a strong liking to Bruce McGill, for all of his toughness and penchant for striking a hard bargain. The man was straightforward and honest, and Adam appreciated these qualities since they were also inherent in his own nature. Now he said, ‘So you’re going up to town next week, now that you’ve finished your business in Yorkshire. How long will you be staying in London?’

‘A fortnight. I sail for Sydney early in May.’ Bruce’s face lit up eagerly. ‘Any chance of seeing you in town, Adam? Can you come up for a few days? We could dine, take in a few theatres, have a little fun. I have some very nice friends I am sure you would enjoy meeting.’ He paused and winked. ‘Delectable friends, in fact, even though I do say so myself.’

Adam chuckled and shook his head. ‘As tempting as it sounds, I don’t think I should be absent from the mill right now. We have a lot of pressing orders to fill, and I can’t leave all the administrative burdens to Wilson. He needs me. Sorry, but I must decline, Bruce. Next time you’re here, perhaps.’

‘You have been a very good host to me, Adam, on my various trips to Yorkshire in the last few months. And talking of hospitality, if I can’t persuade you to be my guest in London, can I inveigle you into coming to Australia later in the year? I would really like you to visit Dunoon.’

‘That’s very kind of you, old chap,’ said Adam. His eyes brightened at the idea. ‘I might just do that. Indeed I might.’

‘You would enjoy it. I promise you that. There’s only me and my boy, Paul, out at the sheep station in Coonamble, except for the hands, of course. My wife died three years ago. But I have a good housekeeper, and we would make you very comfortable. We could also spend a wee while in Sydney. It’s an interesting city, if not as sophisticated as London,’ he finished with a rueful laugh. Now he grasped Adam’s arm as he said, ‘Look here, I have another idea. Why don’t you consider buying land in Australia, Adam? You know, it would be a good investment. You might even think about starting a small sheep station of your own. I could find you the right hands, and I’d even supervise it in your absence. Become your own supplier, eh?’

Adam looked at Bruce speculatively. ‘You’ve got a good point there, Bruce. It’s worth considering, and I will think seriously about taking the trip. I’ll let you know about that later this year.’ Adam took out his pocket watch and glanced at it. ‘Let’s have another drink and then perhaps we should join the ladies in the drawing room, before they get too restless.’

‘Good idea. Incidentally, I must compliment you on your wife, Adam. She is beautiful and most entertaining. You are a lucky man.’

‘Aren’t I just,’ said Adam, smiling faintly. If only you knew. If only you knew, he thought with raw bitterness, as they made their way across the library.