‘What do they call you?’ he murmured. ‘Liz? Elizabeth?’

‘Lizzie.’

‘Lizzie, I’m glad we’ve had this talk. It makes many things clearer.’

‘Do you mean that you’ll help me?’ she asked eagerly.

‘Ah, yes, you want an interview.’

‘And much, much more.’

There was a sudden keen look in his eyes. ‘How much more?’ he asked.

‘Access to the royal archives,’ she said, breathless with hope. ‘Official memos, private correspondence…’

‘Private-?’ With a swift movement his hand tightened on her waist, drawing her hard against him.

‘I want to show him in the round, and for that I must see everything,’ she said, speaking breathlessly for he was holding her very tightly. ‘We all know the face he presented to the world, but it’s the things the world didn’t know that have real value.’

‘Ah, yes. Value. We mustn’t forget that. And of course their value is higher precisely because the world doesn’t know.’

‘Exactly. There’s no substitute for private letters.’

‘I’m sure that’s true,’ he murmured, sending warm breath skittering across her cheek. She saw how very close his mouth was to her own, and tried to control her riotous thoughts. But

they wouldn’t be controlled. They raced ahead, speculating about the shape of his mouth, the firmness of his lips, how they would feel against hers…

She looked up and what she saw gave her a shock. Despite the apparent ardour in his behaviour there was only cool calculation in his eyes.

She tried to clear her head, to know what this meant, but that was hard when the world was spinning around her. As they slowed she realised that he had danced her right around the corner of the building. He was smiling at her, and she could believe, if she wanted to, that the chill look of a moment ago had been all her imagination.

‘You’re not the only historian who wants to write about my grandfather, Miss Boothe.’

‘No, but I’m ahead of the pack,’ she said simply.