And so, perhaps, would Bess. ‘Be open to love,’ she’d said, and the soft pounding of Lizzie’s heart was warning her that suddenly she wasn’t as armoured as usual.

The knock on the door brought a smile to her lips. Daniel at last.

But it wasn’t Daniel.

‘Your supper,’ Frederick said, ushering in a footman with a trolley.

Supper was delicious, a wide selection of dishes, all perfectly prepared, and a bottle of excellent wine. Frederick was charming company, but he wasn’t Daniel.

‘I expect you want to go to bed now,’ he said at last, rising. ‘I’m sorry His Majesty couldn’t see you today, but I’m sure it’ll be early tomorrow.’

They bade each other a civil goodnight and he departed, leaving Lizzie feeling very cross indeed. She reminded herself that Daniel hadn’t specified a time. She couldn’t really complain. It was just…

She sighed. It was just that if he’d been half as eager to see her as she was to see him he would have rushed to her.

She watched satellite television for an hour, but took nothing in. She went to stand on her balcony overlooking the front of the palace, where floodlights picked out the two staircases and highlighted the building’s elegant, symmetrical beauty. From somewhere above her head a clock chimed midnight. She returned indoors and closed the windows.

He wasn’t coming now. She took another shower and put on a soft peach silk nightdress before climbing into the vast antique bed that looked big enough for ten. It had probably been built for an orgy, she thought despondently. It certainly hadn’t been intended for a solitary sleeper.

She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, or how much time passed, but it was very dark when she opened her eyes to the sound of somebody knocking on the outer door of her apartment. She whisked on the peach silk robe that matched her nightdress and hurried out of the bedroom to the main room. The soft tap on her front door came again, and she opened it cautiously.