A Winter Proposal / His Diamond Bride. Lucy Gordon

      ‘Oh, if only my husband were here,’ Angela wailed. ‘William would know what to do. He always does.’

      Roscoe’s eyes met Pippa’s and a little shake of his head warned her to say nothing. She nodded, feeling all at sea, glad to keep quiet.

      ‘But you’ve got me to help, Mother,’ Roscoe reminded her.

      ‘Oh, yes, and you do your best, but it’s not the same, is it?’

      ‘No, it’s not the same,’ Roscoe said quietly.

      ‘If only he hadn’t gone away. He should be here now that we need him so much.’

      Again, she might have been speaking of a living man, and Pippa wondered uneasily just how much she lived in the real world.

      As she spoke, Angela fiddled constantly was a ring on her left hand. It was an engagement ring, with an awesome central diamond, surrounded by smaller diamonds.

      ‘That’s my engagement ring,’ Angela said, seeing her glance. ‘It was much too expensive and William couldn’t really afford it in those days, but he said that nothing was too much for me. All these years later, I still have it to remind me that his love never died.’ Her voice shook.

      Pippa was uncertain where to look. Angela’s determination to thrust her emotion on everyone was difficult to cope with, even without knowing that it was misplaced.

      Charlie returned after a moment, bearing a cup of tea which he set before his mother.

      ‘Why, darling, how kind of you to think of me!’ She turned to Roscoe. ‘Isn’t Charlie a wonderful son? ‘

      ‘The best,’ Roscoe agreed kindly. ‘Now, drink up, and have plenty of sugar because that always does you good.’

      ‘Here,’ Charlie said, spooning sugar madly into the cup. His mother beamed at him.

      So the spoilt child got all the credit, Pippa thought, while Roscoe, who was genuinely working hard to ease her troubles, was barely noticed.

      Then she reproved herself for being over-emotional. Roscoe was only doing what was sensible, supporting his mother and Charlie so that the family should not disintegrate. The idea that he might be saddened by being relegated to the shadows of Angela’s affection was too sentimental for words. And if there was one thing Roscoe was not, it was sentimental.

      And neither was she, she reminded herself.

      Nonetheless, she couldn’t help warming to him for his generosity and patience.

      A little later Angela went away into the kitchen, and she seized the chance to tell Charlie about Ginevra. He was reluctant to believe the worst, but Pippa was firm, saying, ‘I don’t want you to contact her unless I say so. Give me your word.’

      ‘All right, maybe I was a bit mad but she made my head spin.’

      ‘Well, it’s time to stop spinning. Mr Havering, do you have a computer here that I could use?’

      ‘It’s upstairs,’ Roscoe said. ‘I’ll show you.’

      ‘Beware,’ Charlie warned. ‘He’s taking you up to his bedroom, a place where no sensible woman goes.’

      ‘Cut it out,’ Roscoe advised him wearily. ‘Miss Jenson, I hope you know you have absolutely nothing to fear from me.’

      ‘That’s not very flattering,’ Charlie protested illogically.

      ‘Unflattering but sensible and businesslike,’ Pippa said. ‘Mr Havering, let me return the compliment by declaring that I too am entirely free from temptation. Now, shall we go?’

      ‘I’ll come too,’ Charlie declared. ‘To protect you.’

      ‘I need no protection,’ she declared firmly. ‘Ask your brother how I deal with troublesome men.’

      Charlie’s eyes widened. ‘Hey, he didn’t—?’

      ‘No, I didn’t,’ Roscoe said, exasperated. ‘But I witnessed the fate of someone who did. Take it from me, you wouldn’t like it. Stay here and look after Mother.’

      Roscoe’s room was much as she would have expected—full of straight lines, plain, unadorned, unrevealing. The bed was narrow and looked hard, the wallpaper was pale grey, without pattern. There was a television, modest, neat, efficient; a set where a man would watch the news. A monk could have lived in this room.

      But his real home was an apartment elsewhere, she reminded herself. She wondered if that was any different, and doubted it.

      But then she saw something that made her stare and gasp with delight.

      ‘Wow!’ she breathed. ‘How about that? Let me look at it. Can you just—? Yes, that’s right. Oh, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever—yes—yes—yes—’ Her hands were clasped in sheer ecstasy, her voice full of joy, her eyes glowing with blissful satisfaction.

      Roscoe regarded her, fascinated. It wasn’t his first sight of a beautiful woman in transports—in his arms, sometimes in his bed.

      But this one was looking at his computer.

      A touch of the switch had caused the machine to flower into glorious life, making her watch, riveted, as one state-of-the-art accessory after another leapt into the spotlight.

      ‘Oh, goodness,’ she breathed. ‘Why haven’t I ever—? I’ve never even heard of some of these.’

      ‘One of my clients owns a firm that makes software and computer peripherals,’ Roscoe said. ‘He’s at the cutting edge and I get everything ahead of the game. I’ll tell him you’re interested and I’m sure he’ll fix you up.’

      ‘Oh, yes, please! And look at the size of that screen, the biggest I’ve ever seen.’

      ‘You should try one,’ Roscoe said. ‘It’s useful for having multiple documents open at once.’

      ‘Ah, yes,’ she murmured. ‘Useful. How do I go online?’

      He touched a switch and in a moment she’d connected with her work computer, entered the password and brought up a list of documents. A few more clicks brought Ginevra’s face to the screen just as Charlie entered the room.

      ‘Hey, that’s her! ‘ he exclaimed. Then he stared at the caption. ‘But who’s Biddy Felsom?’

      ‘She is,’ Pippa said. ‘Known to the police as a small-time offender and pain in the neck. She enjoys getting stupid boys to do things they shouldn’t, pulling their strings, like she pulled yours.’

      ‘Well, she’s history,’ Charlie said. ‘I know that you’ll save me from her.’

      ‘Good. Now it’s time I was going home,’ Pippa observed.

      ‘I’ll drive you,’ Roscoe said.

      ‘No you won’t, I will,’ Charlie was quick to say.

      ‘Neither of you will,’ Pippa said. ‘Mr Havering, will you call me a taxi?’

      ‘I’ll drive you,’ Charlie insisted.

      ‘Shut up!’ his brother said impatiently. ‘Can’t you see she’s had enough of the pair of us tonight? Miss Jenson, I suggest that the next meeting should be at my office. My secretary will call you to fix a time.’

      ‘Certainly,’ she said in her most efficient tone.

      ‘I know you can rescue me,’ Charlie said. ‘We’ll do it together because I’m going to take your advice in everything.’

      He said the last word with a breathless sincerity that made her regard him wryly. His eyes twinkled back at her and they laughed together.

      Angela came in and demanded to know what was happening. Charlie proclaimed his faith in Pippa, which made his mother