His dry, factual tone spoke volumes more than any telling comment he might have chosen to make. Her heart went out to him.

'It's been dreadful for you, hasn't it, these last three years without her?'

St James drew another microscope across the table and gave his attention to the removal of a speck of dust that seemed to be adhering stubbornly to its eyepiece.

Lady Helen watched him, seeing clearly how the passage of time, in conjunction with his wretched disability, was doing its best to make him every year less of a man in his own eyes. She wanted to tell him how untrue and unfair such an assessment was. She wanted to tell him how little difference it made. But to do so bordered too closely upon pity, and she would not hurt him by a display of compassion he did not want.

The front door slamming far below saved her from having to speak at all. Rapid footsteps followed. They flew up three flights of steps without a pause for breath and served as harbinger of the only person with sufficient energy to make so steep a climb in so little time.

'That sounds like Sidney,' St James said moments before his younger sister burst into the room.

'I knew I'd find you in here,' Sidney announced, brushing a kiss against his cheek. She flopped onto a stool and said by way of greeting her brother's companion, 'I do love that dress, Helen. Is it new? How can you manage to look so put together at a quarter past four in the afternoon?'

'While we're talking of being put together…' St James eyed his sister's unusual attire.

Sidney laughed. 'Leather pants. What d'you think? There's a fur as well, but I left it with the photographer.'

'Rather a warm combination for summer,' Lady Helen said.

'Isn't it beastly?' Sidney agreed happily. 'They've had me on Albert Bridge since ten o'clock this morning in leather pants, a fur coat, and nothing else.