Innocent Mistress, Royal Wife. Robyn Donald

then it wasn’t the French king he was concerned about. On his travels my forebear stole an Arabian sheikh’s most precious jewel—his daughter—and as she was more than happy to be stolen they needed a refuge they could defend.’

      ‘When did all this happen?’

      ‘Several hundred years ago.’

      Fascinated, she asked, ‘What happened to the French king’s mistress?’

      He looked surprised. ‘I believe she was married off to some elderly duke. Why?’

      ‘I just wondered,’ she said. ‘I hope she liked that elderly duke.’

      ‘I don’t think anyone ever enquired,’ he told her dryly.

      As though bored by the discussion, he got out and came around to open her door. With the same automatic courtesy he took her arm as they went up the steps and through the door into a vast, tiled hall. She’d expected grim stone inside, but the far end of the hall was high glass doors that opened out onto a terrace bordered by shrubs and trees.