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‘No, silly,’ said Jojo, ‘Rembrandt’s Angel. And I’ll need a new dress.’

‘Of course you will,’ said Ross, ‘and as I’ve got the day off tomorrow, we can go shopping together.’

‘Thank you, Dad,’ said Jojo, who bent down, selected an angel and gave it to her father.

‘I’ll frame it,’ said Ross, ‘and hang it in my office at Scotland Yard.’

‘Not many angels there,’ said Alice, as Jojo gathered up the rest of the drawings. ‘Now, time for you to go to bed, young lady. It’s way past your bedtime.’

‘Will you promise to come and see me when I present the bouquet to the Countess?’ she asked, looking up at her father.

‘Of course I will,’ said Ross, once again taking his daughter in his arms.

‘And will you come and read to me once I’m in bed?’

Jojo grinned, before leaving the room, humming a tune neither of them recognized.

‘So you weren’t arrested after all,’ said Alice once the door had closed.

‘No, but it was a close-run thing,’ admitted Ross.

‘And the girl you told me about before you left?’

‘Is safely back in London and staying with her mother. But as I’m in charge of her protection, I can only hope you haven’t got a lot planned for me during the next couple of months.’

‘Nothing of any real importance, but don’t forget you’ve now promised your daughter you won’t miss the unveiling of the Rembrandt.’

‘Of course I won’t,’ said Ross, as Alice joined him on the sofa.

‘And thank you for agreeing to help her choose a dress for the occasion. She couldn’t hide how happy she is to have you back.’ She paused. ‘And so am I.’

‘Me too,’ admitted Ross, as he took Alice in his arms and began to kiss her at first gently, and then more passionately. He was unbuttoning Alice’s blouse when a voice behind them said, ‘You two are gross.’

•••

The first thing Beth did when William returned home that night was to ask if Ross had got back in one piece.

‘Two pieces,’ said William, without explanation.

‘I won’t ask you where he was, or what he was up to,’ said Beth, ‘not least because I know you won’t tell me.’

‘All I can say,’ said William, ‘is that Ross solved one problem but created another – one that we may not be able to sort out for some time.’

‘Not until Hartley is released from prison,’ suggested Beth, ‘and Prince Ahmed returns to Saudi, also in one piece.’

‘How do you know …?’ began William.

‘I’ve often advised you to readThe Guardianand not simply rely on theDaily Mailfor your news.’

‘What I can tell you,’ said William, ‘is there’s a story in theDaily Mailabout your friend Christina that I’m fairly confident you won’t see inThe Guardian.’ William flicked over a few pages of theMailbefore he began reading out loud: ‘Nigel Dempster claims in his gossip column this morning that – following a whirlwind romance – Mr Wilbur T. Hackensack III has married Mrs Christina Faulkner. Christina, Dempster reminds his readers, is the ex-wife of the fraudster, Miles Faulkner, who will be released from Wormwood Scrubs next week, having served three years. The marriage took place in St Mary’s chapel in Monte Carlo. No other guests were present. The happy couple are expected to honeymoon in Venice before returning to London on the Orient Express.Forbesmagazine claims Hackensack is a billionaire and known in his hometown of Columbus, Ohio as the “Refuse Collector”. When asked if his second wife had signed a prenup, the Refuse Collector replied, “When you find the right woman, you don’t need to sign a prenup.”’

‘I do hope she’ll be back in time for the unveiling of the Rembrandt,’ said Beth.

‘It might well be annulled by then,’ suggested William.

‘I don’t think so.’ Beth smiled to herself, confident that Christina had found the perfect partner this time.

CHAPTER 8