It was obvious to Emanuelle, too, and the two women stood and laughed together ruefully in a quiet corner. “Why does this keep happening to us?” Sarah said, shaking her head and looking at her old friend, who put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I told you … every time I look at you, I count my lucky stars that I never had children.” But it wasn’t entirely true. There were times when she envied her, particularly now as she got older.

“They certainly make me wonder sometimes. I don’t understand it. She’s like ice, and he thinks she adores him.”

“I hope he never sees the truth,” Emanuelle said quietly, and she didn’t tell Sarah that he had bought her a thirty-carat canary diamond ring for their wedding, and he had two matching bracelets on order. She was doing very well, and Emanuelle was sure that this was only the beginning.

Isabelle had come to the wedding, too, without Lorenzo this time, and she was full of tales of the store in Rome. Everything was going brilliantly, and she was only annoyed that they had to spend so much money on guards. The situation in Italy, with the terrorists and the Red Brigade, made things difficult. But business was booming. Phillip had even had the grace to admit he’d been wrong, but not the spirit to come to his brother’s wedding. But Julian didn’t mind. All he saw, all he knew, all he wanted was Yvonne. And now he had her.

They were going to Tahiti for their honeymoon. Yvonne had said she’d never been and always wanted to go there. And they were going to stop in Los Angeles on the way home, to see his Aunt Jane, Sarah’s sister. Sarah hadn’t seen her in years, but they still kept in close touch, and Julian always maintained a family spirit. And conveniently, Yvonne wanted to go to Beverly Hills to go shopping.

Sarah saw them off, with the rest of the guests. And Isabelle stayed at the château until New Year’s, which pleased Sarah. They celebrated Xavier’s sixteenth birthday with him, and Isabelle said it seemed difficult to believe that he was so grown-up, she still remembered when he was a baby, which made Sarah laugh.

“Think how I feel when I look at you and Julian and Phillip. It seems like only yesterday when you were all small…” Her mind drifted off for a minute then, as she thought of William and those years. They had been so happy.

“You still miss him, don’t you?” Isabelle asked softly, and Sarah nodded.

“It never goes away. You just learn to live with it.” Like losing Lizzie. She had never stopped loving her, or feeling the loss, she had just learned to live with the pain day by day, until it became a burden she was used to. But Isabelle knew something about that too. The absence of children in her life was a constant pain in her heart, and her hatred for Lorenzo weighed on her whenever she let herself think of it, which lately, was less and less often. Mercifully, she was too busy with the store now to think of much else. And Sarah was thrilled they had opened a store in Rome for Isabelle to run.

She was sad to see her go, and life went on peacefully after that. That year seemed to fly by, as it always did. And then suddenly, it was summer, and they were all coming to visit for her birthday. She was going to be sixty-five, and for some reason she dreaded it, but they had all insisted on coming to the château, and helping her to celebrate it, which was her only consolation.

“I can’t bear thinking I’m so old,” she admitted to Isabelle when they arrived. Lorenzo had come, too, this time, which seemed too bad. Isabelle was always more tense when he was around, but they had a lot to talk about, about the store, which kept her distracted.

Phillip and Cecily came, too, of course. She was in high spirits, and talked endlessly about her new horse. She was involved with the English Olympic equestrian team, and she and Princess Anne had just gone hunting together in Scotland. They were old friends from school, and Cecily seemed not to even notice the fact that Phillip neither listened nor spoke to her. She just went on talking. Their children had come too. Alexander and Christina. They were fourteen and twelve, and Xavier was a good sport about keeping them amused, although he was older. He took them swimming in the pool, played tennis with them, and teased them by making them call him “Uncle” Xavier, which amused them.

And then finally, Julian and Yvonne arrived, in his brand-new Jaguar. She was looking prettier than ever, and rather languid, and Sarah couldn’t decide if it was due to the heat, or boredom. It wasn’t likely to be an exciting weekend for any of them, she mused, and she felt guilty for bringing them there. At least she could tell them about her trip to Botswana with Xavier. It had been fascinating, and she’d even visited relatives of William in Cape Town. She’d brought home small presents for everyone, but Xavier had brought home some extraordinary fossils and rocks, some rare but rough-cut gems, and a collection of black diamonds. He had a real passion for stones, and an eye for them, an immediate instinct for their value, in the roughest state, and how they would have to be cut to preserve them. He had particularly loved the diamond mines they’d visited in Johannesburg, and had tried to talk his mother into bringing home a tanzanite the size of a grapefruit.

“I had no idea what to do with it,” she explained, after telling them the story.

“They’re very popular in London now,” Phillip said, but he was not in the best mood. Nigel had been ill recently, and was talking about retiring at the end of the year, which was bad news for him. He told his mother that he would be impossible to replace after all these years, and she didn’t remind him of how much he’d hated him at first. They would all miss him, if he left, and she still hoped he wouldn’t.

They went on talking about the trip to Africa for a while, over lunch on their first day there, and then she apologized for boring them. Enzo was staring at the sky, and she could see that Yvonne was restless.

Cecily said she wanted to see the stables after lunch, and Sarah informed her that there was nothing new there, just the same old tired horses, but Cecily went anyway. Lorenzo went to take a nap, Isabelle wanted to show her mother some sketches she’d designed, and Julian had promised to take Xavier and Phillip’s children for a ride in his new car, which left Phillip and Yvonne on their own, feeling somewhat awkward. He had only met her once before since they’d been married, but he had to admit she was a smashing-looking girl. Her blond hair was so pale, it looked almost white in the midday sun, as he offered her a tour of the gardens. And as they strolled, she referred to him as “Your Grace,” which he didn’t seem to mind or find inappropriate, but then again, she loved being Lady Whitfield. She told him about her one brief experience in Hollywood, and he seemed fascinated, and as they walked and talked, she seemed to move closer to him. He could smell the shampoo in her hair, and as he looked down at her, he could see right down the front of her dress. It was almost all he could do to control himself suddenly as he stood next to her, she was an incredibly sensuous young woman.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said suddenly, as she looked up at him almost shyly. They were at the very back of the rose garden by then, and the air was so hot and still, she wished they could take their clothes off.

“Thank you.” She lowered her eyelids then, her long lashes brushing her cheek, and unable to stop himself, he suddenly reached out and touched her. It was almost more powerful than he, a desire so great that he couldn’t control it. He slipped a hand into her dress, and she moaned, moving closer to him until she leaned against him. “Oh, Phillip …” she said softly, as though she wanted him to do it again, and he did. He took both her breasts in his hands, and fondled the nipples.

“My God, you’re so lovely,” he whispered, and then slowly he pulled her down on the grass next to him, and they lay there, feeling each other’s passion mount until they were both frenzied.

“No … we can’t …” she said softly, as he pulled her thin silk underwear down past her knees. “We shouldn’t here …” It was the location she was objecting to, but not the act, or the person. But he couldn’t stop himself by then. He had to have her. He was exploding with desire for her, and at that exact moment, as they lay there in the brilliant sun, nothing could have stopped him. And as he entered her slowly, achingly, and then with overwhelming force, she pressed hard against him, urging him on, enticing him, torturing him with desire and then teasing him until he shouted in the still air, and then it was over.

They lay panting side by side afterwards, and he looked at her, unable to believe what they’d done, or how extraordinary it had been. He had never known anyone like her. And he knew he’d have to have her again … and again… As he looked at her he wanted her yet again, and he felt himself harden, and plunged into her without a word. The only sound he heard was her delicious moaning, until they came again, and he held her.

“My God, you’ve incredible,” he whispered to her, wondering finally if anyone had heard them, but no longer caring. He was impervious to everything except this woman who drove him to near madness.

“So are you,” she breathed at him, still feeling him throb inside her. “It’s never been like this for me,” she said, and he believed her, and then something occurred to him, and he pulled himself slowly away to see her better.

“Not even with Julian?” She shook her head, and something in her eyes told him that there was something she wasn’t saying. “Is something wrong there?” He looked hopeful and she shrugged and clung adoringly to his older brother. She had figured out long since that a lord was not a duke, and a second son was not his older brother. And she liked the idea of being a duchess, and not merely a lady.