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She showed him the picture. ‘I’d like to go to this exhibition. I don’t want them knowing in advance that I’m coming. No fuss, Rafa. I’ll attend in a private capacity.’

‘I understand.’

They went early, hoping to beat any crowds. She’d dressed discreetly but it didn’t take long.

‘Princess Matilde?’ A quiet murmur at her side. ‘It is you, isn’t it?’

Tilly’s battered heart sank, but she summoned a smile.

‘I’m Sylvie, one of the Normandy jewellers.’ The beautiful woman bobbed before Tilly. ‘I wondered if I might guide you through our exhibition?’

The famed French jewellery house’s glittering display had only just opened here in London.

Sylvie coloured at Tilly’s prolonged silence. ‘The gallery director let me know you’d arrived, if we’d known you were in town we’d have invited you to last night’s opening.’

Tilly had wanted to avoid any fuss because her reasons to attend this exhibition were deeply personal, but she pulled it together, suddenly aware she could learn. ‘I would love it if you talked me through some of your beautiful pieces.’

She walked with Sylvie through the specially lit space.

‘I was delighted to see our tiara finally on show.’ Sylvie smiled shyly. ‘You wore it beautifully.’

This was why. She’d seen the image advertising this exhibition and recognised the intricate floral style. Tilly turned to the talented designer. ‘Thank you.’

‘I was beginning to think it was never going to be seen, he commissioned it so long ago.’

Sylvie’s hint of curiosity was nothing on Tilly’s, but Tilly merely maintained her smile and nodded.

‘He was very particular about the emeralds…he came to our rooms and chose them himself. Now I understand why—they match your eyes. But it’s a couple of years since he took delivery.’

Years? Why would Alex have commissioned it years ago? Why had he been so fussy over the stones? He’d hidden so much from her. He hid so much from himself.

‘I’m sorry, I’ve distressed you.’ Sylvie put a gentle hand on her arm.

Tilly shook her head. ‘It’s okay. The tiara is stunning. I’m honoured to have worn it.’

‘Hopefully we’ll see you in it again soon. They’re at their best worn, rather than in display cases.’

Tilly wasn’t ever wearing it again—she’d left it at dimoro miele. But she murmured her thanks and focused. ‘Your style is incredibly delicate. I’d love you to tell me more about your design process.’

For almost an hour she talked with Sylvie, genuinely fascinated and inspired and feeling a million times better as she lost herself in the intricacy and beauty the woman had wrought from metal and stone.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Princess.’ Rafa suddenly appeared.

The gallery security guard a step behind him was flushed and breathing hard.

‘Apparently you’ve been spotted and there’s a crowd building—’

‘It was inevitable. It’s okay.’ She drew a steadying breath.

‘We’ll be inundated with visitors now, thanks to you.’ Sylvie smiled at her.

‘It was always going to be popular—your work is exquisite.’

‘Yes, but you have a unique effect. I very much enjoyed meeting you. Thank you for being so interested.’

Tilly smiled. It had been easy, but she knew she’d brought extra focus to the exhibition just by turning up. It seemed ridiculous, but could be powerful. Just as her mother had predicted with avaricious pleasure, a title opened society doors. Maybe she could do something positive with the attention that followed her instead of feeling freaking useless. She couldn’t bury herself and hide, she wanted to live.

She turned to Rafa. ‘If you can handle the security, I’ll face them. I’m not going to sneak out the back exit.’