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Brunhilda had removed her hat, so she was able to enter without stooping, but Robert could easily see that the crown of her head was only a few inches short of the lintel. As his betrothed curtsied gracefully, Robert instinctively got to his feet, feeling he must be having a bad dream. But as he pulled himself up to his full height of six foot two and Brunhilda rose from her curtsey, he found himself staring up into the eyes of his betrothed.

“Good afternoon,” said Hildie. “How charming to finally meet you!”

Robert did not reply; his face became empurpled, and for a moment the princess thought he might be having a turn.

At last, the viscount managed to find his tongue. “Bloody hell!” he spat as he pushed rudely past Hildie and stormed from the room.

“Oh, no you don’t!” yelled the earl lunging after him, his corsets creaking.

“Oh, dear!” cried the countess, glancing at Richard in mortification.

“You’ll come back up these stairs this instant if you know what’s good for you, boy!” bellowed the earl as he reached the door.

“I am not marrying that giantess!” countered Robert’s voice, receding.

When the earl signalled to Greaves on his way out, the butler hurriedly followed after them, closing the door behind him against the fracas. But the sound of a loud altercation still penetrated the walls. Squeezing Hilda’s hand apologetically, the countess decided she had best attend her husband and elder son before one of them killed the other.

Hildie was left to Richard’s company.

“Oh, dear!” she said plaintively. “I cannot think what came over me to have said ‘finally’!”

“Easy mistake to make!” offered Richard. “Only the truth. You mustn’t blame yourself! Just the sort of thing I often do!”

The commotion in the vestibule continued, a few shouted swear words penetrated the oak door as a loud crash heralded the upset of some piece of furniture.

Richard frowned, wondering if the console had gone done the stairs. “Have you ever seen the view from the balcony?” he asked, knowing full well that Hildie had. He offered her his arm.

After he closed the French doors, Colonel Fitzwilliam was dismayed to discover he could still hear the contretemps. He walked closer to the balustrade, trying to draw the princess further away from the fracas.

“Ah!” he said, stretching, then grasping the pommel of his sword with his right hand, something he instinctively did when he was tense. “One can breathe out here! I do envy my father this balcony. I remember spending an idyllic week here once when Father and Robert had gone off to the races. Mother was staying with friends. Darcy and I had dinner at his place every night before walking back here to enjoy Father’s port. Darcy’s cellar is not great. He’s not much of a drinker. Although he keeps some good stuff on hand for guests, he doesn’t have the variety that Father does. We sat here on this balcony, discussing life, the universe and everything. I felt like a king for a week!”

“So why do you not live here normally?” asked Hildie, voicing an observation she had previously kept to herself. “There is so much room here and the barracks is so close.”

“I prefer to live at the barracks. Father and I get along all right, left to our own devices. But Robert and I don’t get along at all, and Father always seems to take his side. Lord knows why, since I know he don’t agree with his behaviour.”

The colonel stopped; suddenly aware his comments had veered again into the impolitic. As they exchanged rueful glances, their eyes somehow locked together and Hildie admitted to herself that the time for joking was past.

“I am afraid your brother does not like me, and I am beginning to think I do not like him.”

“You would not be alone in that opinion,” remarked the colonel before thinking better of it.

There was another uncomfortable silence before Hildie decided to change the subject.

“So, what do you think you will do now that the war is finished?”

“Oh, I expect I will rub along in much the same way as I have in the past. I’ll probably be put onto half-pay at some time, but I have a little money from an aunt on Mother’s side of the family that will allow me to get by. I’ve been nursing that most carefully with Darcy’s help.”

“Have you ever thought of becoming a diplomat?”

“A diplomat? Me? Good Lord, no! I’m no leader of thought. I’m not sure I even have any opinions on politics.”

“But do you not see? You are exactly what a good diplomat should be: an amiable fellow who is well liked but respected; a person who can pour oil on water. Opinionated fellows with their own agenda are exactly the sort of people who should not be diplomats.”

“I never really thought about it before, but I suppose you’re right. I’ve certainly known some arrogant fellows who caused a deal of trouble. I suppose I’d be willing to give it a tilt, but I think you overestimate my abilities in that direction.”

When the front door slammed, Richard finally became aware that the commotion inside had ceased. Looking over the balcony, he saw his brother stride off in the direction of Mount Street.

“Well, it looks like the coast is clear. Shall we go back inside?” he asked, again offering his arm.