Derek’s physical closeness immediately shielded Jemimah from the chilling atmosphere at the door but overloaded her senses with heightened awareness. The texture of his fine woollen tuxedo against her skin reminded her of her grandfather’s special occasion suit and the reassurance she’d felt as a little girl safely tucked beneath his arm. But unlike her grandfather’s Old Spice, the scent of Derek’s aftershave was entirely unfamiliar, and her every breath drew in the subtle, masculine fragrance—a not-so-subtle reminder of the flesh-and-blood reality she was walking into.

As he led her toward a small knot of people talking beside the dance floor, Jemimah risked a glance up at him. In contrast to Jack’s outlandish outfit or even Michael’s beautiful brocade vest, Derek’s simple ensemble of snowy white shirt and black tuxedo, bow tie and cummerbund was embellished by nothing more than his gold watch and the fine gold edges of his black cuff links and shirt studs. Yet his immaculately tailored elegance set him above every man present and accentuated, rather than competed with, his perfect ivory features and ebony hair.

Jack’s earlier crack about getting an autographed picture of Derek popped into her mind and she smiled involuntarily. In all fairness, it was not hard to see why women would vote him Bachelor of the Year for his looks alone - quite apart from his other assets. She wondered how many women on the ball committee had volunteered so much of their time for just to be in the presence of such a handsome man?

Derek looked down at her at just that moment, her lips still curved with private amusement. His eyes lit with warmth as he returned her smile.

“I wasn’t being merely polite before - you truly are absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, neither gratified nor embarrassed by his compliment. Apart from having just made her own shallow appraisal of Derek’s appearance, she knew full well that if her gown and makeover met his standards for a ball partner, it reflected only Angie and Sonja’s efforts and nothing she could take credit for. She wondered whether she ought to return his compliment as she had with Jamie, but Jamie was a close friend and Derek a virtual stranger. Unsure if it was appropriate, she let it pass. The women on the ball committee might have made her look like a fitting partner for someone like Derek, but from here on avoiding social faux pas would be up to her.

There weren’t too many people in the ballroom yet, mostly the Sydney friends of the Winslows who were staying the weekend at Minningford, and the introductions were low key. Jemimah’s anxiety over making suitable small talk amongst so many strangers gradually eased as she realised, they were far more interested in exchanging gossip and bantering with Derek about mutual friends and business deals than interacting with her. A smile and a generic greeting or a question about where the guests were from or how they had travelled more than sufficed. Along with a steady stream of new faces, time passed relatively painlessly until a resonant and supremely confident voice spoke right beside her.

“So, who is this mystery beauty?”

Jemimah startled but steadied her expression before she looked up. The man was blonde and tanned to Derek’s dark and cream complexion, but almost his equal in presence and eye-catching looks. The two men clasped hands, not with formal politeness, but with the pleasure of ease and long acquaintance.

“My friend, may I have the pleasure of introducing you to the delightful Miss Parker.” Derek’s satisfied smile warmed his voice, and she saw the same pride in his expression as he looked down at her, extending his hand to present the other man to her, saying, “Jemimah, I know Craig needs no introduction,”

“Where have you been all my life?” Craig murmured as he leaned in close to kiss her on the cheek, his hand resting against her hip and remaining there even as he straightened up. “And how did Winslow find you first?”

The stranger still stood far too close for comfort, and Jemimah felt flustered not only by his words and devouring gaze but by a strong sense of familiarity she could not place. She glanced up at Derek for direction, but he was watching his friend with amusement.

“Jemimah is a recent arrival to Jacaranda Plains and a protege of Sonja’s. Believe me, I was delighted to find myself working with her on the ball committee.”

Delighted to work with me? Despite the unnerving situation, amusement quivered on Jemimah’s lips. I guess he did hand me the crockery to wash up.

She looked back up at Craig, whose focus was still intently on her.

“Where are you from, Jemimah?” he asked.

She took a slow breath and tried to answer as if she was used to conversations in such close proximity to attentive men.

“Newcastle.”

“Ah, I love Newcastle. So many beautiful beaches and the vineyards --- it’s about time I spent a long weekend there again. What brought you all the way out here?”

“I’m teaching at the local school, the infants class.”

He nodded, actually listening as though he were genuinely interested rather than merely making polite conversation. “How long have you been teaching?”

“This is my first year. It’s been a steep learning curve. But I love the children,” she added, realising it was true, “and I’m very glad to be here.”

“And how is a girl from the coast finding life in rural isolation?”

Jemimah hesitated as series of images flashed through her mind: her first day and meeting Michael, the cattle rustling chase with Angie, learning to drive a manual with Jack and Jamie, quadbike riding with Michael, her friendship with her teenage “posse” as Mitch called them, the whole yowie nightmare, and now the ball and her bewilderment at Michael and Derek’s equally unexpected behaviour. She slowly shook her head, no idea how to classify the strange assortment.

“It’s been ... very interesting.”

Craig smiled widely. “Now I’m really intrigued. You’ve clearly got some great stories that I’d love to hear.”

“Unfortunately, my friend, you’re here to work tonight, not monopolise my partner,” Derek said in mock regret, stepping closer to Jemimah and putting his arm around her shoulders as he turned to her. “Craig very kindly offered to be our Emcee for the evening. And he really ought to be getting himself ready for that.”

He inclined his head toward Craig. “I believe Sonja has your program set out on the lectern, though I don’t think much has changed from the one we sent you. Anything else you need?”

“Other than a stiff drink, and the promise of a dance with the enchanting Jemimah, I can’t think of anything else I desire.”

“The drink you can have.” Derek clapped his friend on the shoulder as if to send him on his way, though he did not seem at all annoyed by his friend’s overt flirting. “I’ll send that over to you now. No promises about anything else.”

“Later, princess.” Craig winked as he turned away and headed for raised platform at the front of the room.

Derek caught the eye of one of the serving staff, who brought with her a tray of fluted champagne glasses. He reached for two while arranging for something stronger to be taken to Craig and handed one of the champagnes to Jemimah before she could decline. The waitress turned away immediately and Jemimah, left with the unwanted glass in her hand, stared after her, not sure of the etiquette of calling her back. Holding the sparkling drink stiffly in front of her she turned to Derek to explain, but he raised his own glass in a silent toast to her and smiled as he took a sip.

Her heart dropped. Now she could hardly hand her glass back to him without seeming to reject his gesture, and she foresaw the awkwardness of both explaining why she didn’t want it and of landing him with a glass in each hand. But at that moment his attention was caught by something beyond her, and he didn’t seem to notice that she had not returned his gesture nor taken a sip. Responding to the gentle pressure of Derek’s hand she walked with him toward the internal doors where his parents were entering into the ballroom, deciding to bide her time for a more subtle way to offload the offending glass.

Mr and Mrs Winslow were resplendent in his immaculate tuxedo and her glittering ball gown. Mr Winslow looked very much the lord-of-the-manor as he surveyed the room and, with her tall, thin frame and elaborately coiffed dark hair, Mrs Winslow looked decades younger than Jemimah knew her to be.

As Derek shook his father’s hand and suavely complimented his mother, Jemimah resisted the ridiculous urge to curtsy like a character in a historical novel.

“I obviously have no need to introduce you to this beautiful young lady,” Derek was saying, “since you’ve had the privilege of knowing Jemimah long before I had the pleasure.”

“So lovely to see you again, darling,” Mrs Winslow greeted her with more warmth than she ever had at church. “Sonja has told us how busy you’ve been helping out the committee. You must be so glad we were able to squeeze you in tonight as well.”

Derek’s arm tightened around Jemimah. “No, the gratitude is all mine, especially since I all but compelled Jemimah to accept my invitation on such short aquaintance. But once I’d met her, how could I not want her here with me?”

Jemimah felt a little uncomfortable with Derek’s re-casting of events but not as uncomfortable as she was with Mr Winslow’s compliments on her appearance and lingering gaze. Pastor Turnbull had been generous in his compliments, but that had felt entirely fatherly.

She was glad when Derek excused them to greet another group of guests who had not long arrived. Moving as one of a couple was a novel experience, but she found it surprisingly pleasant not having to think of how to escape a conversation or who to talk to next or even what to say. Since Derek had taken her under his wing at the door it had been like dancing with a competent partner and leaving in his hands the burden of deciding their direction or avoiding a collision. Looking at her role for the evening in that light and learning the steps to this new dance of how to move in sync with Derek’s prompts, Jemimah dared to hope she just might survive after all. Michael still stood by the door with Sonja, but for the moment she felt protected from his condemning eyes.

There was still quite some time before the guests would be seated and the ball formally commenced but the room was already beginning to fill. Snatches of music as the band warmed up added a sense of anticipation and vitality to the atmosphere and the volume of chatter and laughter seemed to rise in response.

Derek was undoubtedly the magnetic centre of the room, and they were constantly surrounded by a swell of people greeting him and vying for his attention. He knew everyone’s names, and apparently their connections and current business interests too, and he had an almost magical talent of smoothly ending one interaction to transition into another he thought more worthwhile. Those so honoured seemed grateful for the snippets of information he exchanged with them, whether regarding movements in the stock market or an introduction to another guest they might find beneficial to connect with.

Jemimah’s part was merely to stand beside him, warmly greeting the people he introduced her to and graciously accepting their empty compliments. Rather than feeling like a threat, Derek’s close proximity was a reassuring presence beside her, his encircling arm carving out a safe place for her and signalling that she belonged.

Even with the few guests who demonstrated actual interest in the young woman by Derek’s side, his deft handling of the conversations left her with nothing to worry about as he was more than happy answering on her behalf. Still preoccupied with Michael’s disapproval, that arrangement suited her fine, even if Derek employed more glowing terms than she would have used herself. Despite her lingering shame and self-consciousness about her look-at-me gown and high-fashion hairstyle, amongst this throng of similarly attired strangers she could imagine herself as all but invisible.

She’d even become grateful for the wretched champagne glass as holding it in front kept a personal comfort zone between her and the most enthusiastic guests - mostly men - though even some of the women from the ball committee, who’d barely accorded her a nod when they’d met the first time, now tried to embrace her as though she were an old friend.

All the same, it was a relief to see Angie working her way through the crowd toward her. She felt guilty about abandoning her friend at the door and hoped they’d stick together from here. But just as Angie got close, Derek turned in the opposite direction to greet another acquaintance in a neat move that Jemimah wasn’t entirely sure was coincidental. When Derek removed his arm from around her to shake the man’s hand, Jemimah seized the opportunity to step back to create space for her friend in the tight circle.

“You were right that Michael’s in a foul mood tonight!” Angie said over the din, “I assumed you were over-reacting, but that was pretty bad.” She shuddered dramatically and Jemimah had no trouble imagining Angie’s doorstep encounter with her brother. She still felt sick over the way he’d looked at her when she’d entered the ballroom behind the Harts.

“I don’t know how Sonja’s putting up with him tonight,” Angie continued bitterly, “or why he even bothers to come if he’s going to be like this.”

Unwilling to be drawn into gossiping about Michael, Jemimah angled away from the group and stepped closer to Angie, speaking quietly.

“Derek introduced me to a friend of his, Craig, who is the Emcee for the ball. I don’t remember meeting him before, but he felt really familiar. Is he from around here?”

Angie rolled her eyes. “Craig Copeland? He’s one of the lead journalists on Channel 7! I know you don’t watch much TV but surely you know who he is.”

“Oh, of course!” Jemimah smothered a giggle as the pieces clicked into place, “I guess I just never connected him with someone I might actually see in real life. I’m glad I didn’t say anything dumb, like ask what he did for work.”

“So am I!” Angie looked horrified. “Just assume all of the Winslows’ friends are very important people, okay?”

Jemimah nodded but silently added that she would treat everybody as equally important. Tonight, all the biblical admonitions about not showing partiality to the wealthy and powerful seemed more relevant than they’d ever been, especially watching the way Derek operated. But she kept her thoughts to herself and moved onto a safer topic.

“Has your partner arrived?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Angie craned her head to survey the room, then waved to a nattily-dressed young man chatting with a group of people by the door. “There he is!” The young man acknowledged her with a nod and a slight lift of his hand but made no visible move to break off from his conversation or join her. However, Jack Hart, standing just in front of him with Jamie and David, obviously thought the wave was for him. He grinned in response and, leaving his brothers behind, headed straight for them, pausing only to grab several savoury pastries on his way past.

“Here’s trouble,” Angie muttered, but did not attempt to escape into the crowd, instead squaring her shoulders as though preparing for combat.

“Good evening, Miss Angela.” Jack grandly swept the hat from his head and half bowed. “I must say you look absolutely stunning. Drop-dead stunning.”

Jemimah held her breath, nearly as surprised as Angie at the compliment but a little wary of the sparkle in Jack’s eye.

“In fact,” he continued in the same sincere tone, “I think that if any of the church ladies saw you in that dress they’d be so stunned - they’d drop dead.”

Angie glared at Jack, who was smiling in smug enjoyment of his successful sally.

“Gee, thanks,” Angie shot back. “It would kill you to say something genuinely nice to me just once, wouldn’t it? I bet you didn’t insult Jemimah when you saw her.”

Jemimah, feeling embarrassed that Jack put into words the very thing she had been thinking, said, “Well, when I arrived, he told me I had no taste.”

Jack opened his mouth to defend himself, then looked significantly at Derek’s back, made a face and looked back at Jemimah with a shrug. “That’s true. You don’t.”

Angie snorted. “What? You are the arbiter of taste now?”

“Absolutely,” Jack grinned, thoroughly enjoying his interaction with Angie, “I know all about taste. For example, these horses-doovers taste great - have you tried one?” He displayed his handful to the girls.

Angie made her grinding-gear noise of ultimate frustration and stepped away. “You’ll have to excuse me, my partner is looking for me.”

Jack’s hand was still outstretched as Angie turned her back on them, his eyes following her appreciatively as she threaded her way through the room. Jemimah, surprised to find the aroma of Jack’s hors d’oeuvres stirring the first hint of appetite she’d had all day, took the opportunity to snatch one from his hand.

“Thank you, don’t mind if I do.” Maturity and calm poise momentarily forgotten she grinned cheekily at Jack just as Derek turned back around toward her, catching her smile and answering it as though it had been for him.

“There you are, beautiful - let me introduce you to a good friend of mine.” He put his arm around her shoulder and drew her close as though making sure she wouldn’t be slipping off again. She nodded, accepting her fate. It would seem this was what she’d agreed to in attending as his partner.

As Jemimah smiled and went through the motions of more introductions Angie’s comment continued to rankle in her mind. Just assume all of the Winslows’ friends are important people. Was that why strangers were treating her so differently tonight, assuming that if she was by Derek’s side she must be someone worth knowing? The thought made her very uncomfortable, and if anyone believed that they’d be disappointed once they spent any time with her. But they wouldn’t; after tonight she was likely to never see any of them again.

She thought back to the conversation with Jack and Angie and smiled. When you really knew someone, it didn’t make much difference how they were dressed, they were still exactly the same person to you. Tonight, Angie’s dress choice was disappointing, and Jack’s outfit was - well, she didn’t really have a description for it except very Jack - but being together with them felt exactly the same as when they’d been all dressed up, or more accurately, dressed down, for the truckers’ social.

Jemimah gazed at the faces of the strangers surrounding her; each one of those people had their own hidden real selves too, tucked away behind the makeup and gowns and fancy tuxedos that made them appear unapproachably superior. It seemed impossible that she would glimpse anything beyond those facades in a crowd like this, when all the conversations seemed to be in-jokes and bragging in a constant contest of anecdotal one-up-manship, though perhaps over dinner it might be quieter and provide a chance for normal conversations. They were all real people too, with their own complex lives and worlds and she should be careful not to rush to judgment herself.

“Jemimah,” Derek had bent his head to her ear, the warm scent of his cologne embracing her, “do you happen to know that young man in the rented tux who’s been staring at you for the last several minutes?”

Jemimah followed his gaze and her stomach clenched in sudden dread. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly dry.

“Yes, he’s an old friend of mine. Matt Gordon.”

She hadn’t seen him since that horrible night when she’d invited Angie to dinner with them in her flat in town and the all distressing sensations of the disaster came flooding back. Somehow, she managed a nod and smile in Matt’s direction, terrified he would still be as angry and resentful of her as he had been then.

He returned her smile with a wide grin and headed straight over.

“Jemma! You look amazing. It’s wonderful to see you again.” He kissed her cheek, and from his expression she suspected that he would have hugged her too if not for her trusty glass of champagne. His voice lowered. “I’ve really missed you - I heard you moved out of town.”

“Yes,” she nodded, hardly able to adjust to his acting as though he’d never been upset with her. As though none of that nightmare had ever happened. “I was offered a little cottage out on a farm. It’s lovely. Peaceful.”

She stepped back slightly, “Let me introduce you. Matt - this is Derek Winslow. Derek, this is Matt Gordon, he’s the Clerk of the Court when he’s in Jacaranda Plains”.

Matt’s brows had lifted when she’d said Derek’s name and she guessed he either knew of him or was surprised that she was with him. The men exchanged handshakes and pleasantries, Matt adding that he and Jemimah had been dance partners for several years.

“Really?” Derek’s tone subtly communicated that his interest in the conversation had ended, “If you’ll excuse us...”

Smoothly dismissed, Matt nodded at Derek but turned to smile at Jemimah. “I’ll catch up with you later - make sure you save the quickstep for me for old times’ sake.”

The arrivals had thinned as the time for the formal commencement approached and from his position angled by the door Michael was able to follow the progress of Jemimah and Derek through the ballroom.

Her red dress was like a flame amongst all the black suits and Derek had introduced her to dozens of people, displaying her like a trophy to endless admirers. The man never seemed to stop touching her, removing his hand only momentarily to greet a guest before instantly returning to snake his long arm across her back to rest his fingers on her shoulder, her arm or her waist.

When she’d briefly left his side to speak with Angie and Jack, Derek had soon noticed her absence and reeled her back in, keeping an even closer grip on her after that. He’d watched a young man trying to get Jemimah’s attention - was he Matt Gordon from the Courthouse who’d made so much trouble for her - but Derek had deliberately blocked him for several minutes before drawing him to Jemimah’s notice. Then, even as Jemimah greeted him, Derek did not relinquish his hold on her for even a moment and, despite the young man’s obvious desire to talk with her, Derek rapidly swept her away and into another group of sycophants.

Michael scanned the rest of the crowd. He’d lost sight of Angie when she’d flounced off from Jemimah and Jack. The noise in the room continued to rise as conversations competed with the quintet’s instruments and he was glad to have a reason to remain by the cool air of doorway and out of all that chaos.

The sound of Angie’s laughter rang across the room, and he scowled at the sight of her, carrying on as immodestly as she was dressed. If Gabi had been there, perhaps she would have had more success in toning her behaviour down. And she would surely have dissuaded Angie from wearing that dress if she’d known about it. He would have expected that of Jemimah, too - though perhaps only his imagined Jemimah, not the Jemimah who was here tonight and obviously fine with anything if it achieved the desired outcome.

“Smile, Mr Grumpy.” Sonja elbowed him teasingly. “Helen wants to take our photograph. If she gets a shot of you glowering like that we’ll set off all the gossips with talk of our acrimonious rift.”

Michael unfolded his crossed arms and tried to muster a passable smile as Sonja slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and leaned close.

Several shutter-clicks later Helen gave them a thumbs up and moved on to another couple nearby.

Michael turned to Sonja as she released him, and rested his hand on her arm. “I am so sorry - you deserve better than this.”

She tilted her head to one side and studied him, a gentle smile on her lips. “No, I ‘m sure I deserve far more than a few scowls after making you drive the girls up today. Was it that bad?”

He grimaced. “Worse.”

She laughed at his expression, and Michael tried to lighten his tone

“I honestly didn’t think anything could top teenage school girls for gossip and cattiness but I was very wrong. Sorry, Sonja, but I hope you don’t ever rely on their discretion,” he gently rubbed her arm in concern. “I couldn’t believe the outrageous rumours they didn’t hesitate to share - even about you and Derek - and that was with me right there!”

Her laugh was melodious and unconcerned. “I hope you didn’t jump to my defence, Mikey. You could deflate the whole aura of mystique they’ve been building for years about us.”

He shook his head. “I felt anything I’d say would be pearls before swine.”

“Isn’t that a teeny bit harsh?” She pursed her lips as if in censure, but the laughter was still in her eyes.

“You didn’t hear what they said.”

“They’re not bad people, Mikey. This is the only world they understand and the only way they know to get on in it. They don’t know Jesus like we do - but at least now they know a couple of Jesus’ friends and hopefully realise he’s the reason why we are different. Anyway,” she added, her expression softening, “I already heard that you were the perfect gentleman. Apparently, chivalry isn’t dead and they were most impressed with having doors opened and even lunch arranged for them. That was a nice touch, Mikey, booking a table for lunch at the nicest cafe in Gunnedah.”

He accepted her compliment with a reluctant smile. “It’s the least I can do for you after all these years.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know how grateful I am for at least one uncomplicated relationship in my life. And for having my own cavalier at my beck and call as Tamara puts it. Talking about being at my beck and call - champagne?”

He followed her gaze to a passing waitress, politely intercepted her path, took one elegant glass for Sonja, and hesitated, aware of his own dry throat. There were carafes of fruit infused sparkling water on the tables, and he knew he could probably find a coke in the kitchen, but it could be another fifteen or twenty minutes before they were finished at the door. He picked up a second glass; one champagne wouldn’t kill him.

He rejoined Sonja and surveyed the room over the top of his glass as he took a sip. He frowned seeing Angie laughing with a sandy haired man in a loud waistcoat.

“Who is the man that Angie is talking with?”

After enduring Sonja’s girlfriends’ conversation on the long car trip, he had then spent the next few hours in the company of the guys setting up the bunkhouses and outdoor decorations. They were as bad a group of gossips as the girls, but with more crudity, especially as they discussed the women that were attending. And then there was their unbridled speculation about the kind of girl Derek’s mystery partner was likely to be. He’d had heard enough come out of the sandy haired guy’s mouth to know he was not a young man he would have introduced to his sister.

“Todd Marriott - a young lawyer from church. I thought they’d find a few things in common.”

Michael clenched his jaw, watching as his sister downed what was at least her second champagne. Angie and her partner probably did have a lot in common, he thought sourly.

Jemimah and Derek briefly crossed towards Angie and his partner, and he noted Angie taking the opportunity to incorporate herself into the knot of people with them. He was well aware of Angie’s infatuation with Derek that dated from her pre-teen years and wondered grimly how this dynamic was going to play out between the girls.

He’d been so glad when Jemimah had joined their church, thankful to God that she’d become such a good friend to Angie and - he’d thought - a welcome counter influence to the worldliness his sister was so enamoured with. He’d never considered the influence might run the other direction, dragging Jemimah down to this level. Maybe if he’d been here and not in Sydney, he would have seen it coming. Could he have done something to avert it?

A waitress passed their group, and Angie’s voice penetrated even to the doorway as she exchanged her empty glass for another filled one. Even Jemimah brandished a full champagne glass, held up in front of her like a flag signalling her membership in the club. For some reason he had thought she didn’t even drink. Another thing he’d been wrong about.

Derek leaned closer to speak into Jemimah’s ear and she peeped up provocatively at him through the curls that swung across her eyes. A smiled played on her lips as she reached up with slender fingers and scarlet nails to toy with her hair. Derek took the bait as she must have known he would, reaching across and stroking one errant curl out of the way, his fingers lingering in her hair while he spoke to her. Michael grit his teeth. She knew every trick in the book.

“It must be nearly time to hand the door duties over to one of the staff. Once the senior Harts have arrived, I’ll let you escape.” Sonja turned to survey the room from Michael’s side. “I don’t want to stretch your civility too far past its limit.”

Michael noted the teasing in her voice but didn’t even look away from the group. “I notice that once again Derek is leaving you to do all the work while he swans about socialising”

“Oh no, darling, he’s doing a stellar job. You and I give guests the grand welcome, while Derek makes them feel special by seeking them out on the floor. I would say more than half the guests are here primarily for the chance to get a word in with him. Just because he makes his part look effortless doesn’t mean he isn’t working hard.” She was silent for a few moments, then sighed contentedly. “They make a beautiful couple, don’t they?”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he’d got her inference wrong.” Who does?”

“My brother and Jemimah Parker, of course. I think she’s perfect for him.”

Michael opened his eyes to see Jemimah talking with another guest while Derek watched her like a hungry predator, his arm resting on her shoulder and clearly staking his claim.

“What? Young and naive?”

Sonja laughed. “No, sweet and pure and --- and wholehearted. She’ll be good for him.”

“But is he good for her?” he shot back, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

Sonja tucked her hand into the bend of his elbow, and he turned to meet her measuring look.

“You know,” she said seriously, “Derek has never told me what lies at the bottom of the animosity between the two of you.”

Michael gave a mirthless laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

He ignored Sonja’s arched eyebrows and, at the sound of footsteps on flagstone, turned his back on the ballroom to look out on the courtyard.

“Oh, it must be time to begin,” Sonja said, her good mood unimpaired. “Uncle Ted and Aunty Gwen are here!”