The Englishman's Bride. Sophie Weston

had got her education and her high-profile job entirely by her own efforts. Yet that had never seemed to be a problem before. If she’d been asked, Kit would have said Count Nikolai Ivanov was more in love with his raggle-taggle wife now than he had had been when he married her.

      But on the phone just now Lisa hadn’t sounded like a loved wife. And Kit loved Lisa. She was more than a sister. She was Kit’s best friend.

      Maybe this was the time to sink her principles, after all.

      She was still wavering when there came a tap on the French window.

      Tatiana, thought Kit. Normally she and her landlady had a slightly edgy relationship. Tatiana thought Kit was boring at best; at worst, a passenger clinging to her successful sister’s coat tails. Kit thought Tatiana was an eighty-year-old delinquent. But they met on their affection for Lisa.

      So Kit opened the door with unusual enthusiasm.

      ‘Lisa has spoken to you,’ said Tatiana, recognising the enthusiasm and diagnosing its source with accuracy.

      ‘Yes. I’m worried.’

      ‘So am I,’ admitted Tatiana.

      To Kit’s astonishment she sat on the sofa and made herself comfortable without once complaining about Kit’s pale cushions. Tatiana liked her furnishings bright.

      ‘She sounded wretched,’ said Kit, biting her lip.

      ‘When did you talk to her?’

      ‘Just now. She wants me to go out there.’

      Kit waited for Tatiana to say, Don’t interfere. Tatiana thought the only person who was allowed to interfere in the affairs of Lisa and Nikolai was herself. But she didn’t.

      The vivid, lined face creased into an expression of profound foreboding.

      ‘You talked to her now?’

      Kit nodded. ‘I just put the phone down on her. Or rather she put the phone down on me. She sounded really upset.’

      Tatiana’s monkey face looked as if she was about to burst into tears. ‘Do you know what the time difference is?’

      Kit was bewildered. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

      ‘It’s seven o’ clock here. That makes it three in the morning at Coral Cove,’ said well-travelled Tatiana Ivanova. ‘Three. And she’s calling you. Where’s her husband, for goodness’ sake?’

      Kit stopped her pacing, shocked.

      ‘No wonder she sounded so—fragile,’ she said, almost to herself.

      ‘You’d better go,’ said Tatiana. Adding, with that practicality that Kit always found so disconcerting, all mixed up with the crystal-balls philosophy and the joss-sticks, ‘Do you need some cash?’

      Kit shook her head. ‘Lisa’s booked me a ticket and paid for it. And I haven’t used my credit card for anything this month. I’ll be fine.’

      ‘You’ll need a tropical wardrobe,’ said Tatiana, who thought clothes were the window of the soul.

      Kit shrugged.

      Tatiana bounced off the sofa. ‘You are impossible. Look at you. Wonderful golden hair, wonderful skin, pretty face. You’re tall and as slim as a model. Why on earth aren’t you out there buying disgracefully short skirts and giving everyone a heart attack with your skin-tight tops?’

      Like Lisa.

      Neither of them said it. They both knew what Tatiana meant.

      Kit said more sharply than she meant, ‘Just stop it, Tatiana. I dress the way I like.’

      Tatiana brooded. ‘Well, at least get yourself a swimsuit. I saw some pretty bikinis in—’

      Kit went rigid. ‘No bikinis,’ she almost shouted.

      Tatiana stared.

      ‘I’ll get a one-piece from the sports shop,’ Kit said in a more moderate tone.

      ‘And some shorts. And light tops. You have no idea how hot it’s going to be,’ Tatiana warned her. ‘Something respectable to wear in the evening. Oh, and a straw hat to keep your head covered in the sun. Coral Cove is on the Equator. You have to be careful. Blondes more than most.’

      ‘Thank you for the advice. But won’t I be able to buy straw hats and stuff there?’

      Tatiana snorted. ‘This is not a teen beach club, you know. There won’t be hot-dog stands and market traders. Nikolai said Coral Cove was one of the most sophisticated hotel complexes in the world.’

      Kit narrowed her eyes at her. ‘So?’

      Tatiana was unimpressed by the dangerous glint. ‘You’ll feel out of place if you don’t dress properly,’ she warned impressively.

      ‘Well, it’s an empty sophisticated hotel complex at the moment,’ said Kit, refusing to be impressed.

      ‘All the more reason to keep up the proper standards.’

      ‘Tough toenails. I don’t suppose I meet their standards in the first place.’

      Tatiana sighed. ‘You have such a chip on your shoulder, Kit.’

      ‘Only when I’m around people who rabbit on about proper standards,’ said Kit dangerously.

      Tatiana gave up. She turned to go.

      The French window swung gently. An elegant white paw, like an arm in a long evening glove, appeared round it.

      ‘That cat,’ said Tatiana with disfavour.

      Kit chirruped at it. The paw pointed daintily and was followed by the rest of the animal. A small brindled cat oozed round the door and leapt for the rug in front of the fire. It began to wash itself rapidly. Kit smiled.

      ‘Cats,’ muttered Tatiana. ‘Anyone would think you were a hundred, not twenty-two.’

      ‘She’s only visiting.’

      Tatiana cast her kohl-rimmed eyes to heaven. ‘You ought to be having visitors who are tall, dark and handsome and make you rethink your position on bikinis.’

      Kit shook her head, impatient. ‘Oh, not that again. Why does it matter to you what I do with my life?’

      ‘Because you’ve only got one,’ said Tatiana forcefully. ‘And I can’t bear waste.’

      There was a fraught silence. Kit was the first to look away. She bit her lip.

      Tatiana did not know the horrors that sometimes rode Kit, when the nights were long and she couldn’t sleep. Even Lisa did not know all of them. But Kit had some very good reasons for her position on bikinis. And tall and handsome visitors were definitely not welcome.

      She said with difficulty, ‘Look, I know this doesn’t fit in with your world view, Tatiana. But not all of us are brave enough to go everywhere and experience everything.’

      ‘Bravery has nothing to do with it.’

      ‘Oh, yes, it does,’ said Kit quietly. She faced her simmering landlady squarely. ‘Believe me, I do the best I can. But I’ve done the tall, dark and handsome visitor bit, years ago. Didn’t work. In my experience men just tear your heart out. And, when they’ve finished that, they mess with your head. I’m not brave enough to go through it all again. And that’s the honest truth.’

      Tatiana was silent for a moment. Then she nodded sadly. ‘All right. It’s your life. So it’s your business. But you’ll go to Coral Cove?’

      Kit nodded. ‘I’ll go.’

      Lisa was waiting at the small airport. Kit thought she would break, Lisa hugged her so convulsively.

      ‘You came. God bless you, Kit. Was it difficult to get time off?’

      Kit