Barbara Taylor Bradford’s 4-Book Collection. Barbara Taylor Bradford

headed to the door, then she stopped and looked down at her feet, frowning worriedly. Since she had only brought day shoes with her, there had been a problem about evening sandals, until Diana had produced the high-heeled black silk mules she was now wearing. The trouble was they were really bedroom slippers and also a size too small. On the other hand, they looked quite passable since Diana had cut off the ostrich feathers, and because they were mules their tightness was at least bearable. I’ll just have to manage, she muttered, opened the door and went out.

      Christian was the only occupant of the sitting room, looking darkly handsome in his dinner jacket. He sat in the wheelchair, fiddling with the knobs of the record player.

      ‘It looks as if I’m the first, and I thought I was horribly late!’ Francesca cried, tripping across the floor to him. She planted a kiss on his cheek, and continued, ‘I do hope Dibs likes her gift. I took your advice and went to the little antique shop in town. I found a carved figurine, smaller than the ones she has, but it will fit into her collection.’

      ‘She’ll love it,’ Christian said, smiling up at her. ‘Stand a little farther away, so that I can see you properly.’ He nodded his approval. ‘You look beautiful, Frankie. But different somehow.’ He peered at her more closely, his lips pursed in consideration. ‘Older, a little more worldly, shall we say? Perhaps it’s the upswept hairstyle that makes you seem so very grown up.’ He nodded, as if confirming the fact. ‘In any event, I like the new you, my dear. So will all the men tonight. You’re suddenly a most intriguing woman.’

      ‘Why thank you, Christian,’ Francesca said. ‘And it probably is my hairdo. It’s sophisticated, isn’t it? But then so is this dress. You’re not used to seeing me looking so elegant.’ She stepped to the coffee table and deposited Diana’s gift on it, and then wondered suddenly if something showed in her face. Did it reflect her recent experiences and Victor’s loving? Were those things detectable? She didn’t care. Unlike Victor, who was determined to keep their romance a secret, she wanted to shout it to the whole world.

      Diana rushed in and joined them near the fireplace. She was out of breath and unusually flushed. ‘Sorry, my darlings. I had a problem with my hair,’ she began, and pulled a face. ‘It took much longer than I anticipated.’

      ‘But worth waiting for, my dear,’ Christian said. ‘I predict you and Frankie are going to outshine everyone this evening.’

      The girls laughed, and Francesca, eyeing Diana, exclaimed, ‘And you do look super, Dibs. How on earth did you manage to create that effect by yourself?’

      ‘I didn’t. Clara helped me, and it was rather complicated,’ Diana explained. ‘I saw the idea in French Vogue and thought it was different.’

      ‘It certainly is, and it’s lovely on you,’ Francesca smiled, examining her cousin’s hairdo.

      Diana’s extraordinary silver-gilt hair had been pulled back from her face, parted in the middle and plaited. Wine silk ribbon was threaded through the waist-length plait, along with tiny white artificial flowers and green leaves. The elaborateness of the hair style was balanced by the simplicity of her gown, which was made of wine-coloured silk jersey. It had a high rolled neckline, long sleeves and a gathered skirt which fell in soft folds to the floor. Her jewellery was minimal.

      ‘Gosh, you are inventive and clever, Dibs. I wish I had your flair.’

      ‘I don’t know about you two, but I’d like a drink,’ Christian announced, wheeling himself over to the console. ‘I’ll open the champagne.’

      ‘Oh yes, do, darling,’ Diana agreed. ‘And perhaps I’d better check the dining room, just to be sure everything is in order.’

      Christian waved her to a standstill. ‘You don’t have to bother. I looked in a few minutes ago and Manfred has done a splendid job.’

      ‘That’s a relief. I can relax at last. It’s been quite a hectic day.’ Diana picked up a cushion, put it on the hearth and sat down. She smoothed her skirt, crossed her legs, and said, ‘I didn’t get an opportunity to say much about our morning on the slopes during lunch. But I must tell you, Victor’s a marvellous skier. At first I thought he was going to be a wild skier, you know, the kind we despise, who takes bigger risks than he should. I was wrong. He handled the Jenner perfectly, and we had a superb run. He’s –’ Diana broke off, her eyes fastened on the doorway. ‘There you are, Victor. I was just talking about you – about your prowess on the slopes.’ She proffered him a welcoming smile.

      Victor laughed as he came towards them down the long stretch of carpet, white teeth flashing in his sunburned face, black eyes merry. His tuxedo, like all his clothes, had great distinction. It was expensive, faultless, fitted his expansive frame to perfection, and the white dress shirt enhanced his deep tan, made it look that much darker. Black onyx-and-diamond studs punctuated the ruffled front of the shirt, and a red silk handkerchief flared in his breast pocket. He was elegant, and every inch the star.

      Francesca had never seen Victor in evening clothes before, and he seemed more glamorous than ever. She felt overpowered by him again, and her stomach fluttered nervously. Weak at the knees and experiencing a sudden tightness across her chest, she sat down on the sofa and attempted to compose herself. She was amazed at the effect he had on her, especially in view of their recent intimacy. Would she never become accustomed to his stunning looks, his extraordinary presence?

      Drawing to a stop in front of Diana, Victor embraced her. ‘Once again, a very happy birthday.’ He handed her the two gifts he was carrying. ‘And these are for you, from Francesca and me.’

      ‘Thank you. How exciting. I do love birthdays.’

      Victor smiled, turned to greet Francesca. Bracing one hand on the arm of the sofa and the other on its back, he leaned over her, his eyes intent. After a long look, he pressed his mouth to her cheek and gave her a lingering kiss, but as he drew away he winked. He straightened up, glanced down at her and then across at Diana.

      ‘I must compliment you, ladies. You both look mighty fetchin’, mighty fetchin’ indeed, I do declare. Why, you fair take a man’s breath away with your not inconsiderable charms,’ he said, executing a bull’s eye imitation of Clark Gable as Rhett Butler, and bowing to them with an elaborate old-fashioned gallantry.

      ‘Victor, what a splendid mimic you are,’ Christian exclaimed.

      Victor grinned, and in an instant he was across the room, shaking his host’s hand. ‘Evening, Christian. Just one of the tools of the trade, I reckon.’

      ‘What would you like to drink, old chap? Champagne?’

      ‘I’d prefer Scotch-on-the-rocks with a splash of water. Thanks.’

      Diana said, ‘The presents are divine … all these fantastic Sinatras, and Arpège as well. Thank you both so much.’ She beamed, her eyes swivelling from Francesca to Victor.

      ‘And this is from … us,’ Francesca said, finding her voice and rising. She gave the gift to Diana and hugged her warmly.

      ‘You’re both far too generous.’ Diana unwrapped the figurine, her eyes lighting up when she saw it. ‘Oh Cheska, Victor, it’s charming. Thank you again.’ She shook her head, laughing. ‘Everyone is spoiling me today.’ She held out her arm, displaying her garnet ring and a matching bracelet. ‘Christian gave these to me this afternoon.’

      ‘They’re beautiful.’ Francesca squeezed her shoulders, and went on, ‘And you deserve to be spoiled. I know this is going to be a very special and wonderful year for you, Dibs darling.’

      They had just finished toasting Diana when Manfred appeared. He told them the cars were arriving at the gatehouse and that some of the guests were already halfway down the path.

      ‘Excuse me,’ Diana said, getting up. ‘I must go and greet them. Coming, Christian?’

      ‘Naturally.’ He promptly put down his drink and followed her to the entrance of the sitting room.

      Francesca