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‘You’re shouting, Alex,’ he remarked.

‘Would you like to hear me scream instead? Perhaps about how much I hate you right now?’

‘The County Asylum was my idea,’ he admitted.

‘Ah, really? How inspired for maximum cruelty. I couldn’t fully fathom how my father came up with that plan.’

‘I thought it less public than prison and also —’

‘I don’t care any more what you thought, Harry. I’m struggling to believe that someone who claims to love me could manoeuvre to hurt me so deeply, but then I suppose I should be used to men and their selfish ways. You and Matthew are the same, really – you claim to love me and yet here I am, desperately hurt and lonely because of both of you.’ She could barely stand the sound of herself, shrill and dramatic, everything she normally abhorred. And yet her emotions felt as though they were pulled so taut they might never return to their former shape. They might even snap fully and leave her forever bitter.

Alex noted how he took a slow breath before he ground his jaw; there it was again, the anger that she didn’t think him capable of . . . he had it entirely under his control but she now fully understood that he felt its burn. There was a genuine struggle going on as he tried not to react to her barbs. Was identical anger responsible for taking revenge on Matthew for his humiliating treatment today, or was it jealousy, frustration, even, that they couldn’t be together? Did it matter? Did she really want this fight? No. What she wanted was for him to leave so she could stop hating him while hating herself even more.

When he left, this would be his lasting memory of her . . . snarling accusation and a hurting heart. Meanwhile, she would be left feeling hollow, lonely in every possible way.

Eyes whose sockets looked bruised, simmering with latent fury, gazed back at her, dully. ‘I did not suggest the County Asylum to be cruel. I believe —’

There was a sudden knock and Norma looked around the door without waiting to be given permission. Alex could see that the housekeeper’s obvious lack of respect for Harry acted as a tipping point. His infuriation seemed to crystallise into a diamond-hard resolve. This was presumably one of the qualities that got him through four years of war. There was something unnervingly implacable in the way he straightened his shoulders. Light appeared to reignite in his eyes but it shone with a ferocity that spoke of his internal rage to her alone.

‘Sir Charles has arrived in a carriage, madam. Mr Chetwin Britten-Jones is sharing it with him,’ Norma said matter-of-factly.

In a fraction of a second she knew she’d lost Harry. Perhaps not his love – she could see that perhaps a flame might always burn for the woman he fell for in York – but he would leave her now without regret, disappointed by her. That was it. That is what would hurt the most in time to come, she understood; knowing that she’d let him down, that she’d allowed herself to slip from the pedestal he’d positioned her on above all other women.

‘I have no desire to speak to anyone further tonight, Norma. Please tell my father that I have a headache and I shall see him in the morning as agreed.’ She swallowed. ‘And please show our guest out.’

‘No need,’ Harry said. ‘I can see myself to the door.’

‘That will be all then, Norma,’ Alex said, hearing the old adage rattle around her mind about cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face.

The door closed.

She panicked inwardly as Harry stepped forward; if he would just make a single show of affection for her, she was sure she would melt, beg him to wait yet again . . . one more day . . . one more kiss . . . one more declaration of love – just so they could part on a fond note rather than this bitterness.

‘I’m sorry, Alex, for all your troubles. My deepest apology that you believe I’ve contributed to them.’

All you have to do is reach for him, Alex, a small voice said but the Frobisher pride got in the way, taking offence at his curt words, like a captain speaking to one of his men. ‘I hope your marriage is more successful than mine, Harry. Good luck.’ Now she was glad he’d never know that she was Kitty . . . the woman he’d come searching for. It was a hollow triumph and she knew it.

She watched his eyes dip to regard the hand she held out in a polite farewell, noted the wry smile that came and went as she held her breath tightly in her chest. She could change this parting in a second . . .

‘Goodbye, Alex.’ He reached into his pocket and took out a small envelope. ‘This is for you. It seems redundant now but the idea is sound. If it can work, do feel free to use it. A parting gift, if you’ll permit, for a few special days I’ll cherish.’ He handed the envelope to her instead of shaking her hand, as though he couldn’t bear to touch her in farewell.

She didn’t turn until she heard the door close and then she swung around, the water in her eyes spilling over to roll down her cheeks and onto her lips so she could taste her salted tears.

26

Morning finally came. Alex chose Matthew’s study to meet her guests, mainly because she didn’t wish to walk into her salon just hours after farewelling Harry from it in such a cold manner. She had convinced herself she might still smell a lingering trace of his shaving soap or hair oil, which kept his straight dark hair so neatly in place . . . unless of course it was tousled from her attentions. She couldn’t allow herself to think like this. The memory of Harry’s lovemaking yesterday was still so fresh she could recall it in perfect detail.

‘Sir Charles and Mr Giles Farthing, madam,’ Norma said, gesturing for the men to enter. ‘Shall I serve tea or coffee?’

Alex snapped into focus, asking the question of her visitors.

‘Coffee for me, Norma,’ Charles said.

‘Coffee will be fine,’ Giles agreed.

‘For three then, Norma, thank you,’ Alex said, finding a smile that felt almost impossible to master. ‘Do have a seat,’ she offered and they moved to make themselves comfy around the small fire.

‘Darling, I know it’s been hard to get some sleep but you look terrible. Perhaps we should consult Hugh for something to help?’