And there had been an age of change between then and now, terrible wars that killed countless men, and clashes of ideas that probably killed even more. Continents had been opened up and dreams of reform had been born and died. Mr. Darwin had questioned the fundamentals of existence.

Vespasia bowed her head very slightly to an elderly duchess but did not stop to speak. They had long ago said everything they had to say to each other, and neither could be bothered to repeat it yet again. Actually, Vespasia wondered why on earth the woman was even at this diplomatic reception. It seemed a remarkably eclectic group of people, and it took her a moment’s thought to perceive what they could have in common. Then she realized that it was a certain value as entertainment… except for the duchess.

The Prince of Wales was easily recognizable. Apart from his personal appearance, with which she was perfectly familiar, having met him more times than she could count, the very slight distance of the people surrounding him made him more noticeable. There was a certain attitude of respect. No matter how funny the joke or how enjoyable the gossip, one did not jostle the heir to the throne or allow oneself to trespass upon his good temper.

Was that Daisy Warwick smiling across at him? A little brazen, surely? Or perhaps she assumed that everyone here tonight already knew their intimate relationship, and no one really cared. Hypocrisy was a vice Daisy had never practiced. Equally, discretion was a virtue she exercised selectively. Unquestionably she was beautiful and had a certain air of elegance about her that was worthy of admiration.

Vespasia had never desired to be a royal mistress. She thought the perils far outweighed any advantages, let alone pleasures. And in this instance she neither liked nor disliked the Prince of Wales, but she did rather like the Princess, poor woman. She was deaf, and imprisoned in a world of her own, but still she had to be aware of her husband’s self-indulgences.