e who ascends to mountaintops, shall find

The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow;

He who surpasses or subdues mankind

Must look down on the hate of those below.

—LORD BYRON, ‘Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage’

‘Why are you angry, Frank?’ Emma asked, staring at her brother across the dinner table in the Ritz Hotel.

Consternation swept across Frank’s sensitive face and he reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘I’m not angry, love. Just worried about you, that’s all.’

‘But I’m feeling so much better, Frank. Truly I am, and I’ve quite recovered from the pneumonia,’ she reassured him with a vivid smile.

‘I know, and you look wonderful, Emma. But I do worry about you. Or rather, your life,’ he responded quietly.

‘My life! What do you mean? What’s wrong with my life?’ she exclaimed.

Frank shook his head regretfully. ‘What’s wrong with your life? you ask. Oh, Emma, don’t you ever stop to think? You’re on a treadmill, love. In fact, you’re as much a drudge now as you ever were at Fairley Hall—’

‘That’s ridiculous!’ Emma interjected, her face clouding over.

‘You’re not scrubbing floors, I’ll grant you that,’ Frank countered quickly, ‘but you’re still a drudge, albeit in luxury. You’ve put yourself in bondage with your business, Emma.’ He sighed. ‘You’ll never break free.’

‘I don’t want to break free,’ Emma said, suddenly laughing. ‘Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that I might enjoy my work?’

‘Work! That’s all you do, and that’s exactly what I’m getting at. Isn’t it about time you had a bit of fun in life? Now, while you’re still young.’ He threw her a wary look and his tone was cautious as he added, ‘Also, you’re going to be twenty-nine in a few months. I think you ought to consider remarrying.’

Laughter rippled through Emma. ‘Remarry! Frank, you’re absolutely crazy. Who would I marry? There are no men around. There’s still a war on, you know.’

‘Yes, but it’s bound to end later this year. When America got in, the situation started to change and the Allies are making great headway. I’m positive armistice will be declared within nine months or so, and men will be coming back.’

‘But it’s still only January,’ Emma gasped, still laughing, her eyes wide. ‘All the young men are noticeably absent. You’re a little premature, darling.’

‘What about Blackie O’Neill, for one thing?’ Frank suggested, watching for her reaction. ‘He’s always adored you. And you’re both free now. Not only that, you’ve been looking after Bryan as if he were one of your own for the past year.’ Noting she was not perturbed, he grinned and finished, ‘It’s not as if you are strangers.’

‘Oh, Frank, don’t be so silly,’ Emma said dismissively, with an airy wave of her hand. ‘Blackie is like a brother to me. Besides, I’m not sure I want to remarry. Apart from anything else, I don’t think I would like a man interfering with my business.’

‘That blasted business, Emma! I don’t understand you sometimes.’ His eyes were thoughtful when he glanced up at his sister. ‘Surely you must feel secure these days. You are a rich woman in your own right and Joe left you well provided for. How much is going to be enough money for you, our Em?’

A small smile flitted across her mouth on hearing this affectionate diminutive from their childhood, and she shrugged casually. ‘It’s not the money, really. I do enjoy business, Frank. Honestly, I get a lot of gratification out of it and I do have the children to think about as well. Their futures. And I can handle my life without any help from anyone, or advice, however well-intentioned.’

Frank held up his hand. ‘I simply think you ought to take it a bit easier and relax for once in your life.’

Emma leaned forward. ‘Look, Frank, do stop worrying or I shall get awfully cross and take the next train back to Leeds if—’ She broke off and dropped her eyes.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. Well, it’s the two men at the table directly opposite. They keep staring at us. I wondered if you knew them. But don’t look now, they’ll see you.’

‘I noticed them when they came in. The maître d’ was bowing and scraping all over the place. However, I don’t know them. But I do know that the younger one, the handsome major, is an Australian, from the insignia on his uniform. He’s with the 4th Brigade of the Australian Corps.’

‘A damned colonial! No wonder!’

Amused at the anger flaring in her eyes, Frank said, ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘He’s been quite insufferable since he sat down. Every time I look up I find his eyes on me. And speculatively so,’ she said furiously.

‘Come on, Emma. What do you expect? I don’t think you realize how beautiful you really are, love.’ Frank took in the bottle-green velvet gown, the creamy pearls at her throat and ears, the sleek hair pulled back in a chignon. ‘You look about eighteen, Emma. And I’m glad you don’t wear all that muck on your face most women have taken to using lately.’ He smiled. ‘Yes, you’re undoubtedly the best-looking woman in this room.’

‘There’s not much to choose from,’ Emma replied pithily, but she smiled and asked in a curiously shy voice, ‘Am I really, Frank?’

‘You are indeed.’

The waiter approached the table and said deferentially, ‘Excuse me, sir, but you’re wanted on the telephone.’

Frank nodded and turned to Emma. ‘I won’t be a minute. Excuse me.’ He pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘Why don’t you look at the menu and decide what you want for a pudding.’

‘Yes, all right, dear.’ Emma watched Frank cross the floor of the Ritz Hotel dining room. He looked so distinguished and well bred in his dinner jacket, and she was extremely proud of his achievements and the shape his life had taken. He was a dear, and always concerned about her happiness. Emma smiled, wondering what Frank would say if he knew about the Emeremm Company. He’d probably give me another lecture and say I was taking on too much, she mused. But that company’s going to be the making of my real fortune. The new business had been a brilliant concept, even if she did say so herself. It was an acquisition and holding company, which she had financed by selling Joe’s shoe factory and the tannery for exorbitant prices, and in the eleven months it had existed it was already in the black. The name Emeremm was her invention, a contraction of the words emerald and Emma. One day she intended to call it Harte Enterprises, but for the moment she did not want the world to know she was associated with it. For her own reasons she sought concealed ownership. Although she was the sole shareholder she did not appear on the board, nor was she an officer of the company. Ostensibly it was run by the managing director and the two other directors she had appointed. Men bought by her and therefore owned by her. Men of straw who would do her bidding.

Emma looked around the elegant dining room absently, her mind dwelling on the Emeremm Company and its endless financial possibilities. As her glance swept past the other tables her eyes inadvertently met those of the Australian major, and Emma found to her amazement she was momentarily unable to look away. He’s too handsome, too sure of himself, Emma thought with a stab of annoyance. The sleek hair, the thick brows, the clipped moustache above the sensual mouth were too glossily black against the deep tan of the rugged and arresting face. And those eyes were of a blue so deep they were almost violet. Even the cleft in his chin was more deeply indented than was normal. His wide mouth lifted in a tantalizing smile, brought dimples to his cheeks, and his gaze was now so bold and so provocative she flinched. Blushing, she turned away. Why, he’s positively indecent, she thought, her cheeks burning. She had the odd feeling he knew exactly what she looked like stark naked. Embarrassed, Emma reached for the glass of wine and in her nervousness she knocked it over. Further mortified, she began to dab at the cloth with her serviette.

The waiter promptly came to her rescue, murmuring that he could easily repair the damage, and quickly placed a clean serviette over the stain. He cleared away the dirty dishes and Emma thanked him as he moved away. The major was once again in her direct line of vision and she saw to her indignation that his audacious gaze still rested on her. There was an amused smile playing around his mouth and undisguised challenge in his eyes. Emma picked up the menu angrily and buried her flaming face behind it. She cursed the intolerable fool across the dining room who was so blatantly trying to flirt with her, and doubly cursed Frank and his interminable telephone call.

Bruce McGill’s tanned and weather-beaten face was a study in fond amusement and his clear blue eyes twinkled as he said, ‘If you can drag your gaze away from that fetching creature for a brief moment, perhaps we can have a little decent conversation with dinner, my boy.’

‘Oh, sorry, Dad,’ Paul McGill said. He shifted in his chair and gave his father his full attention. ‘But she is undoubtedly the most fascinating woman I’ve ever seen. Don’t you agree?’

Bruce nodded. ‘I do, my boy. You inherited my taste for the ladies, I’m afraid. Never could resist a beauty. However, I would like to talk to you, Paul. I don’t get to see you that often these days.’

‘You’ll be sick of the sight of me in a few weeks. This blasted wound is taking a hell of a long time to heal.’

Bruce looked concerned. ‘Not too painful, I hope.’

‘No, just aggravating and especially so in this lousy English weather.’ Paul smiled wryly. ‘I shouldn’t be grumbling, should I? Instead I ought to be thanking my lucky stars. It was a miracle I got through the Gallipoli campaign without a scratch. Then this had to happen in France.’

‘Yes, you were lucky.’ A sober expression crossed Bruce’s face. ‘I had hoped you would get out after this, so that you could come back to Coonamble with me. But I suppose there’s no chance of that. Will you be going back to France to join Colonel Monash?’

‘I expect so. But let’s not worry about that tonight. I intend to have a whale of a time while I’m in good old Blighty.’

‘Glad to hear that, son. You damn deserve it after the hell you’ve been through. But take it easy, laddie.’ Bruce laughed, his eyes merry again. ‘No more little scandals this time. Dolly hasn’t let me forget that last romantic encounter you had with her friend.’

‘Oh, Jesus, don’t remind me, Dad. I swear off women every time I think about that particular mess. When are we supposed to be at Dolly’s?’

‘Any time after dinner, my boy. You know Dolly and her theatrical friends. Those parties of hers usually last until dawn. Incidentally, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve decided not to go. You can pop along there alone. You’ll enjoy it. Give her my regrets. Afraid I’m not up to it tonight. Also, I would like to drop in at South Audley Street and see Adam Fairley.’

Paul’s dark head came up sharply. ‘How is he these days?’

‘Not well at all, poor chap. Very sad really—that whole business. He was never the same after Olivia’s death, and now the stroke. It’s hard for me to see him confined to a wheelchair. He was always so active. Olivia’s death was a tragedy and he’s taken it hard. Leukemia, you know. Such a vivacious, lovely woman. I remember the first night I met her, about fourteen years ago. Rather fancied her myself, to tell you the truth. I can still remember the way she looked. Ravishing. Wearing a kingfisher-blue dress and sapphires.’

At this moment Emma and Frank rose and left the dining room. Paul McGill’s eyes were riveted on Emma for every step she took. He observed the proud set of her head, her straight back, her total self-assurance, and her regal bearing as she glided out, and he was further intrigued.

Paul caught the headwaiter’s eye and motioned to him. To his father he said, ‘I’m going to find out who she is right now…Charles, who was the gentleman who just left with the lady in the green velvet?’

‘That was Frank Harte, sir. The Frank Harte of the Daily Chronicle. Fine young gentleman. Made quite a name for himself as a war correspondent.’

‘And the lady?’ Paul asked.

‘Forgive me, Major, but I’m afraid I don’t know.’

‘So Mr Harte is well known, is he?’ Bruce interjected.

‘Oh yes, indeed, sir. He writes on politics now. I understand he was, and is, quite a favourite of Mr Lloyd George’s.’

‘Thank you, Charles,’ Bruce said. ‘You’ve been most helpful.’ He leaned forward and fixed his thoughtful gaze on his son. ‘Look here, Paul, I don’t want you doing anything foolish. Just watch your step. I’m heavily involved with a number of politicians in this country. I would hate to have problems because of your romantic philanderings. That might easily be the chap’s wife, you know, and since he’s well connected it could be a dangerous game you’re contemplating.’

‘Don’t worry, Dad. I won’t embarrass you. However, I am going to find out who she is if it kills me.’ Paul sat back in his chair and took out a gold cigarette case. He lit a cigarette, his mind turning rapidly. His father’s immense fortune had opened every door for him, all the right doors, and he began to enumerate his friends, wondering who would be the most suitable candidate to arrange an introduction to Frank Harte.

There were a dozen or so people in Dolly Mosten’s drawing room when Emma and Frank entered it later that evening. Emma had only taken three small steps into the room when she halted abruptly and grabbed Frank’s arm. Startled, he turned to her quickly.

‘Frank, we’ve got to leave!’ she hissed.

Surprise flickered on to his face. ‘Leave! But we’ve only just arrived.’

Her fingers tightened on him and her eyes were pleading. ‘Please, Frank! We’ve got to leave. Immediately!’

‘Don’t be foolish, Emma. It would seem most odd and I don’t want to offend Dolly. That’s a fate worse than death. Anyway, apart from the fact that she’s London’s leading actress and not to be slighted, she’s been very helpful to me in the past. She would never forgive me. Why the sudden turnabout? You wanted to come earlier.’

‘I feel—sick,’ Emma improvised. ‘Faint.’

‘Sorry, but I’m afraid it’s too late, old girl,’ Frank muttered. Dolly Mosten was descending upon them, a cloud of yellow chiffon and canary diamonds, her flaming red hair a fiery nimbus around her superb but vacuous face. And in her wake was the Australian major they had seen at the Ritz. So that’s it! Frank thought. His eyes were teasing as he looked at Emma and said pointedly, ‘He won’t bite.’

Emma did not have a chance to reply. Dolly was greeting them warmly and making the introductions, her famous bubbling voice ringing with laughter, her theatrical vivaciousness enveloping them in an intimacy Emma found curiously distasteful. She averted her head to avoid the major, who loomed up in front of her, all too predatory. Emma felt cornered, and then she found her hand being tightly grasped by a much larger, stronger one. Emma was in a quandary and she stared down at the fine black hairs spreckling that hand, almost afraid to raise her head.

‘I’m most delighted to meet you, Mrs Lowther. It is an undeniable pleasure and one I did not anticipate experiencing quite so soon, although, to be frank, I had determined to make your acquaintance. How fortuitous for us both that I stopped by Dolly’s tonight,’ the resonant voice drawled, the faint Australian twang hardly discernible.

Why, the impertinent and conceited devil, Emma thought, embarrassment and discomfiture she had experienced at the Ritz flaring within her again. She had the overwhelming desire to slap his face, but her innate good manners prevented her. Instead, she lifted her head and finally looked up into that face staring with such intensity at hers. Her mouth parted. No words came out. She blinked, conscious of the roguish expression in those stunning eyes, the sardonic smile as he waited for her response.

Emma felt the insistent pressure of Frank’s hand on her back and then to her horror, and before she could stop herself, she said coldly, ‘I understand you are an Australian, Major McGill. I hope the deplorable manners you so patently displayed earlier this evening are not typical of your nationality, but merely spring from your own lack of upbringing. Otherwise your fellow countrymen will find a frosty reception in this country, where women are treated with respect. This is not the Outback, Major.’

Dolly gasped. Frank cried, ‘Emma, you are being ungracious!’

But Major McGill was apparently amused. He threw back his head and roared with laughter, and he held on to her hand all that more firmly, so that Emma winced.

Emma turned to Dolly. ‘Forgive me, Dolly. I don’t mean to be discourteous to you. Please excuse me. I must leave. I feel perfectly dreadful. Something definitely disagreed with me at dinner.’ She endeavoured to extract her hand, but the major had tightened his grip like a vice.

The major said, ‘Touché, Mrs Lowther. I deserved that, I do believe.’ Paul bent forward, lowered his head, and offered his right cheek to Emma. ‘Want to slap it and get it over with?’

Flushing, Emma took a step backwards. The major immediately pulled her forward into the group again. He said, ‘I think I had better take Mrs Lowther for a glass of champagne. And I hope I will be able to convince her that even colonials are civilized.’ He tucked Emma’s arm through his in a proprietary way. Emma tried to disentangle her arm, but he instantly clamped his free hand over it and shook his head slowly. ‘Come along, Mrs Lowther,’ he said commandingly. She saw that his eyes were irreverent and taunting, and she loathed him more than ever.

‘Do excuse us,’ Paul said to Dolly and Frank, obviously well pleased with himself as he swept her away.

‘A little champagne will cool you off,’ Paul said, bowing elaborately to a couple he knew but without slowing his pace.

‘You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink,’ Emma hissed, her blood boiling

‘Even the most stubborn and temperamental fillies eventually get thirsty, Mrs Lowther,’ he said in a low voice, his eyes roving over her boldly. ‘Depending, of course, when they last quenched their thirst. You look positively parched to me.’

His words, appearing innocent enough on the surface, were full of innuendo and the unconcealed desire flickering in his eyes was revealing of his thoughts and his intentions. Emma’s cheeks were scarlet as they walked across the floor, and to her considerable irritation she discovered she was acutely aware of Paul McGill’s physical proximity—of his fingers biting into hers, of his arm brushing so intimately against her bare shoulder. He was taller and broader than she had realized at the Ritz, and he seemed to overpower her. He exuded a sheathed strength, an earthy and domineering masculinity that disturbed her. The room swam before her eyes and she was overcome by faintness. A peculiar tingling sensation invaded her entire body and her heart quickened, beating so rapidly underneath the green velvet she thought it was about to burst. She was flustered and unnerved. It’s only anger, she told her self, and she truly believed this was the real cause of her sudden distress.

Dolly’s drawing room appeared to Emma to have tripled in size and she thought the long stretch of chartreuse carpet would never come to an end. ‘Please, I would like to sit down,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Over there. You can go and find a waiter—’

‘Oh no, not on your life! You’re not going to escape quite so easily,’ Paul cried.

‘Where are you taking me?’

Paul stopped in his tracks and swung her to face him. He peered down at her, his violet eyes filled with speculation. ‘Well now, I’m not quite sure. There are hundreds of interesting possibilities and alternatives—’ Observing the chilly expression on her face, he laughed that bantering laugh and remarked softly, ‘Don’t look so terrified. I’m not going to abscond with you. I merely wanted to get you away from your brother and Dolly.’ He scanned the room and inclined his head to the left. ‘Over there perhaps, near the potted palm. That seems a likely place for us. A quiet and secluded spot.’

Emma attempted to break free from him. ‘Please let me go.’

‘Never.’

He manoeuvred her into the corner with great adeptness. Emma realized, and with mounting dismay, that there was now no opportunity for immediate flight, and she also acknowledged that she owed it to Frank to stay at Dolly’s for a respectable interval. She sat down on the sofa, relieved to be released from the major’s grip, and grudgingly took the glass of champagne which he whisked off the tray as the waiter glided past.

But she had no intention of pandering to this arrogant devil of a man, nor would she spare his feelings, and so she said icily, ‘I suppose this rough and masterful technique you adopt is successful with most women, Major.’

Paul nodded and crossed his legs nonchalantly. ‘Generally speaking, I would say,’ he said lazily. He looked her over with an insolence that brought a deep flush to her chest and neck.

‘Let me assure you it won’t be with me!’ Emma exclaimed, her face haughty. ‘I am different from most women.’

‘I am aware of that,’ he admitted, the roguish glint still lingering in his eyes. ‘In fact, I do believe I detected that characteristic in you at once. I think that’s what attracted me to you, apart from your staggering looks.’ He grinned. ‘You are seemingly staggeringly blunt as well, Mrs Lowther. And strong-minded and sassy to boot. Yes, very different, I would say. Fire and ice perhaps?’

‘All ice, Major,’ Emma parried.

‘Ice can melt, you know.’

‘It can also be very dangerous. People have been known to have fatal accidents with ice,’ Emma snapped.

‘Danger has always attracted me, Mrs Lowther. I find it exciting. Challenging. It brings out all my masculine instincts.’

Emma threw him a scathing look, turned away contemptuously, and glanced around the room, her eyes seeking Frank. This man elicited an immediate and direct response from her, and one that both infuriated and baffled her. With his monumental egotism, his astonishing appearance, his swaggering self-assurance, and his flippant tongue, he was quite unlike any man she had ever met. And no man had ever had the temerity to be so brash with her or address her in such a suggestive manner. She detested the major and resented his assumption that she was about to fall swooning at his feet. There was also a ruthlessness about him that oddly enough did not trouble her and she was nonplussed, momentarily not understanding that ruthlessness was a trait she was familiar with and could easily handle.

Paul leaned back in the chair, his eyes reflective as he studied Emma’s exquisite profile, and he marvelled at his incredible luck in meeting her quite by accident this very night. He thought: She is very different. An original. She must belong to me. I won’t rest until I have her for myself. All of her. Not only her body but her heart and her mind as well. He was shaken to his very core, for no woman had evoked such a violent reaction in him before. Paul McGill, at thirty-six, was lusty, adventurous, worldly, and charismatic, with a down-to-earth sexuality that cut across class lines to awaken a fervent response in all women. Shopgirls and upper-class ladies equally found him irresistible and, consequently, his conquests had been all too easy, and so numerous he had long ago lost count of his romantic entanglements. His approach, until this precise moment in his life, had been based on a ‘take me or leave me’ attitude. Women fell over themselves to take him, and with an eagerness that was almost indecent, before he sauntered out of their lives, the rakish grin intact, his heart untouched.

For all that, and despite the debonair and hedonistic stance he struck, Paul McGill was intelligent and possessed shrewdness and psychological insight. Much smarter than he pretended to be, he now recognized, with a sudden flash of clarity, that Emma was a wholly different proposition. She was not going to succumb to his brash charm or his potent virility. This was a woman to be conquered only through understanding, honesty, and subtle strategy. Ruefully admitting he was antagonizing her unnecessarily with his raillery, he decided to change his tactics and cease his baiting of her at once.

He leaned forward and said, ‘Let’s stop this silly bantering. We’re spoiling it.’

‘Spoiling what?’ Emma asked snappishly.

‘Our first meeting. Our first evening together.’

‘And our last!’

Paul brought his face closer to hers. ‘I like a woman with spirit. Mrs Lowther. I presume Mr Lowther has the same preference.’

Taken by surprise, Emma gaped at him. What a blundering imbecile he is, she thought with irritation. Her stare was glacial. ‘I am a widow, Major McGill. My husband was killed eighteen months ago. In the Somme offensive.’

Oh, my God, Paul thought. He said quickly, ‘Please forgive me. I am so terribly sorry. I had no idea. I am a thoughtless fool.’ He swore under his breath and sat very still. Emma was silent and unresponsive.

Paul now said, ‘It was very tactless of me. One should be more careful in wartime. I am truly sorry. I hope you will also accept my apologies for my appalling behaviour at the Ritz. It was quite unforgivable.’

Emma heard the sincerity in his voice, detected sympathy in his eyes, saw that the mocking expression had been wiped off his face, and she was amazed at the radical change in his manner.

‘Will you accept my apology?’

‘Yes,’ Emma murmured.

Frank joined them and handed a walking stick to Paul. ‘Dolly asked me to give you this.’ He turned to Emma. ‘How are you feeling? Better, I hope.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Emma said. ‘I am sorry, Frank, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’

‘Look here, Frank, it was all my fault,’ Paul cut in. ‘Let’s forget the incident, shall we?’

‘Of course, Paul.’ He grinned at them and strolled off to join a well-known politician holding court at the far end of the room.

Emma was eyeing the walking stick. Paul said, ‘I’m wounded. But you probably didn’t notice the limp.’ There was a sheepish look in his eyes as he said, ‘I have to admit I was trying my hardest to conceal it when we walked across the room.’

‘You succeeded very well.’ Emma found herself smiling at him and she discovered this small admission of pride on his part induced her to revise her opinion of him. She knew all about self-esteem, and she softened a fraction. She leaned back against the sofa feeling more relaxed. With that grin he looked like the eternal little boy. ‘I hope your wound is not too painful, or serious,’ she remarked softly.

‘No, not at all. In fact, I’ll be going back to France shortly.’ Paul regarded her thoughtfully, his face serious. He was aware he had gained ground with her, but he hesitated before saying, ‘I’m on leave for a few more weeks. Would it be possible for us to meet again? I know you think I’m some sort of scoundrel, but I’m not, really. I have no excuse for my ghastly display at the Ritz, other than to confess I was bowled over by your beauty. Still, I should not have caused you discomfort. Can we lunch tomorrow so that I can make amends?’ His eyes twinkled. ‘I promise I’ll behave—like an officer and a gentleman and not a scallywag from the Outback.’

‘I have a luncheon engagement,’ Emma said.

‘Is it terribly important? Couldn’t you break it?’

‘I don’t think so. It’s with Frank and I don’t see him very often. He would be disappointed.’

‘Yes, I understand.’ Paul’s face lit up. ‘I don’t want to seem forward, but could I join you? May I invite you both to be my guests?’ He smiled engagingly. ‘After all, you would be chaperoned with your brother present.’

Emma smiled. He was quite transparent. ‘I would have to ask Frank. I’m not sure how he would feel.’

To Paul’s annoyance Dolly sailed up to them and he stood up, offering her his chair. She declined and said, ‘I see you two have recovered from your little contretemps.’ Her eyes swept over Emma and settled on Paul. ‘How is the wounded warrior? I do hope you’re enjoying yourself, darling. We must keep our valiant soldiers happy, mustn’t we?’ She patted his arm playfully. ‘I can see you’re in good hands. I presume I shall see you at your father’s luncheon party tomorrow.’

‘No, I’m afraid not. I have a long-standing appointment. With destiny.’

‘Destiny?’ Dolly’s brow puckered in puzzlement. ‘I don’t think I know her.’

Paul kept his face absolutely straight. ‘I don’t believe you do, Dolly.’

Dolly shrugged. ‘One can’t be acquainted with everyone in London, I suppose. Do excuse me. I must circulate, my darlings.’

Paul leaned closer to Emma, his face sober. ‘I am, aren’t I?’

‘You are what?’

‘Lunching with destiny.’

She looked up at him and smiled, that unique smile that illuminated her face with incandescent radiance. ‘I thought you were lunching with Frank and me,’ she said.

Frank said, ‘Why are you doing this, Emma?’

‘Doing what, dear?’

‘You know exactly what I mean. Leaving London so unexpectedly.’

‘I only intended to stay in town for a few days. I’ve been here two weeks. I have to go back to Yorkshire.’

‘I never thought I would see my sister running away.’

‘I’m not running away.’

‘Yes, you are. It’s Paul McGill, isn’t it?’

Emma looked at him and bit her lip. She sighed. ‘Yes, it is.’

‘I guessed as much. But I still don’t understand why you are rushing off.’

‘Because he’s getting to be a nuisance and, anyway, I don’t particularly like him.’

‘Emma! How can you say that! If you don’t like him, why have you spent so much time with him? Every night, as far as I can gather. The theatre, dinners, parties, and luncheons, too. I’ve hardly seen you alone, and I must say you have certainly given the impression you are mesmerized by him.’

‘That’s not true, Frank Harte!’

Frank shook his head and looked out of the taxi window. He brought his eyes back to Emma. After a moment’s reflection he said, ‘He’s fallen for you like a ton of bricks.’

‘Oh, phooey!’

‘Yes, he has. I can tell. Everyone who sees the two of you together can tell. He positively devours you with his eyes. And I know you like him, Emma.’

‘Frank, will you please leave me alone.’

‘Give me a good reason why you don’t want to see him any more.’

‘Because he’s too charming, too handsome, too fascinating. And too much—for me to handle. Besides—’ She broke off, her voice faltering.

‘Besides what?’

‘I’m afraid I’ll get more involved if I stay.’

‘I knew it! But surely you mean fall in love with him, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was a whisper.

Frank took her hand. ‘Does he know you’re leaving?’

‘No. There’s a note for him at the Ritz. He’ll get it tonight when he comes to collect me.’

‘That wasn’t a very nice thing to do to the poor chap.’

‘It was the only thing to do. Now, darling, please shut up about Paul McGill. And tell the taxi driver to hurry. I’ll miss my train.’