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The compliment felt more like a threat. ‘Harry resisted me,’ she assured, remembering the final look he gave her that was not unlike his mother’s in its intensity. She could name another man who resisted her too, who was presently cavorting around France with his lover, but didn’t think Lady Blakeney needed to share any more of her troubles.

Lady Blakeney nodded and there was a pensive quality to her gesture; the pause that followed put awkwardness between them. ‘I have no doubt at all that on this occasion it was a great struggle for him to walk away from you. As I say, he is changed. My secretive son – the one who made so many women’s hearts miss a beat – has, I now believe, finally discovered the bitter taste of love lost. Let it remain that way, Alex, for you are both married to others and thankfully even the distance of your lives puts you out of each other’s reach. This is how it should stay. Leave him a letter, dear. I promise you I shall see he receives it in private.’

So many responses clashed in Alex’s mind, the loudest her resentment at not being able to see him just one more time. She wanted to explain that she simply needed to hold a new memory of him in her thoughts, rather than that bruised look of rejection, the constrained dismay at her anger. If she could just explain to him that the fault was hers – a misunderstanding due to misinformation – and see him smile again, even if it was a sad smile of farewell. Instead, Alex nodded, too proud to beg, too polite to contradict in this instance. ‘There’s much to say and likely easier through a letter, where the right words can be chosen.’

‘Indeed, and keeps the wound clean this way.’ Harry’s mother shot her another knowing stare that said droves; she understood they were in love but could not act further on it, and she was pleading with Alex to leave Harry and his new wife alone. ‘Come, Alex, dear. Let me organise us a pot of tea while you write. I think a cheerful brew of Orange Pekoe is called for.’

Lady Blakeney took Alex’s arm and they turned to walk companionably back to the manor for a final letter of love that she would sign as Kitty so Harry would finally own the information that eluded him and he would know – even through polite words – that they were always meant to be together.

29

MAY 1920

Alex Frobisher of Frobisher’s Chocolate Salon put the phone down in her office at the back of the shop and smiled. She looked up at the woman who sat opposite her wearing an expression of excited anticipation.

‘Well?’ Holly asked.

‘It’s ours,’ Alex replied and burst into laughter at Holly’s squeal of pleasure. The women stood and Alex walked around the desk to embrace her former maid, now a small partner in her flourishing chocolate emporiums. ‘Or should I say yours?’

Holly’s eyes glistened with pleasure. ‘Your third salon, Miss Alex. I hope you’re proud of yourself.’

‘It’s ours, Holly. You’re a co-owner in this one. You’re quite sure, aren’t you?’

‘Never been more sure about anything other than the man I love. I told you, I realised I didn’t want to clean up after people any more – no offence, Miss Alex.’

‘None taken. And you always said you wanted to be a shopkeeper and, so long as you don’t mind having cocoa dusted on your clothes and in your hair, you’re going to make an even better chocolate salon owner.’

‘So, I’ll sign the lease?’

‘Go ahead. All of Lincolnshire is going to love you.’

‘Weekly deliveries?’

‘Yes. I’ll arrange that for Thursdays, so you have stocks for Friday paydays and the weekends, of course. I thought this evening we could get you practising the sealing of hearts. We’ve covered everything else and that’s about the only task you’ll be required to perform with liquid chocolate at the time of purchase – all other sales are pre-foiled or —’

‘I know, I know . . . on with our gloves and hand-packing individual chocolates. You’ve trained me well.’

Alex sighed. ‘You learn fast, Holly. I’m very happy for you. Where’s Stan? Will he mind about tonight?’

‘Don’t be daft. He’s thrilled about what I’m doing.’

‘He’s a good man being so supportive.’

The friends shared a glance of sympathy.

‘I couldn’t help noticing all the legal paperwork, Miss Alex. Is the divorce all sorted out now?’

Her friend nodded.

‘That’s good. Now you can set about finding a good man of your own.’

I don’t need to find him. I know where he is. I just can’t have him. Alex stopped herself saying any of this. ‘He’ll have to find me, I’m afraid,’ she replied. ‘I’m much too busy. And, Holly, now you’re a business partner in the firm, you can drop the Miss and just call me Alex, please.’

‘Would feel odd . . .’

‘I don’t care. Get used to it. You’re not my maid. You’re a businesswoman now in your own right.’

Holly’s eyes shone with pride. ‘So, I’ll go over to Mr Farthing’s office to sort out and sign all the final paperwork, shall I?’