“Well, I’ve got a beast of a temper, and I don’t care who knows it! Only I don’t lose it at games – I keep it for something better worth while.”

“Such as?”

A stormy look came over Alicia’s face. Rafe went on in a light, teasing voice.

“Like your own way, don’t you, and cut up rough when you don’t get it – even at games.”

She flashed into brilliance.

“That’s not true, anyway!”

“Not? Sure?”

“You know it’s not true!”

He laughed lightly.

“Well, you do generally manage to get your own way.”

The brilliance went out like a blown flame.

“Not always.”

She jerked round and ran to pick up her racket. Rafe watched her with a curious teasing look. His thin, mobile lips showed the white teeth again. It amused him to consider that Alicia, who had taken her own way as a right ever since she was a baby, couldn’t take it, and would probably never be able to take it, where his cousin Dale was concerned. She could have had him once when she was nineteen and he was twenty, and he had no money and she had no money and Sir Rowland Steyne had a great deal. Well, she had let Dale go and married Rowland. So what had she got to grouse about? It was her own doing, and ten years stale at that. Dale had married Lydia Burrows under some pressure from his family and Lydia ’s family, and by the time he came in for Lydia ’s money Alicia was Lady Steyne. It amused Rafe quite a lot.

He wondered what would have happened if Rowland had smashed up himself and his car a month or two earlier. By the time that obituary notices appeared Dale was already engaged to Lisle van Decken. They were married before Alicia could decently enter the lists.

She came back swinging her racket, her eyes bright on his face.

“Why do you look at me like that? I hate you!”

His smile widened.

“I was thinking you didn’t look like a widow.”

This made her laugh.