Triumph shot through Gretchen, her capricious grasp of conscience and compassion failing utterly as she thought of how precious the secret was and that she had sussed it out! She had been right and now…now what? She ought to demand something really. The problem, for Gretchen at least, was that she couldn’t think of anything she wanted and unless she could present everybody with compelling proof she couldn’t guarantee that she would be believed.

There was more at work here than just Waterford lying – surely somebody must know the secret and be keeping it to themselves? Was the family monied? The question of wills was a deadly concern for some families, hers amongst them, so it was a definite possibility.

It struck her for a brief, tantalising moment that there might be freedom in this but the notion quickly ebbed away, like a wave never to return.

“How is it possible that you have kept this a secret?” Her eyes fixed on Waterford’s face, wondering how nobody had ever noticed the softness of her skin, the elegant, uninterrupted curve of her neck.

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Bee is tremendous, isn't she?