The press conference and the numerous photoshoots they’d organised seemed to have done the trick, and the press had moved onto newer stories that seemed easier to break. Olivia never thought she’d be grateful to the Labour party and their eternal infighting, but if it knocked her off the front pages, she hoped they’d fight on forever.

Nothing more had surfaced of her time in Otter Bay, and for that, she knew she had Rosie to thank. Numerous other residents could have blown the whistle on her — anyone from the Dog & Duck, the cafe, Connie from the boutique, even Amy — but their total loyalty to Rosie meant the story had never gained traction. Plus, now she and Jemima were on the front pages every day in a huge show of togetherness, the press had to accept the marriage was going ahead.

If only it was that easy for Olivia.

The cooling of the story also meant Olivia had been allowed home, where she could finally breathe again. The past couple of weeks had been filled with non-stop social engagements, dresses and make-up, all of which made Olivia want to scream. Now she was back in her own house, she was calmer.

Jemima was coming over later and they were going to choose a menu for the wedding, something they both wanted to eat. Malcolm had chosen one that involved venison, grouse and caviar, none of which would make it into Olivia’s top 100 foods, never mind her wedding meal. Jemima had agreed, so they were taking back that tiny piece of control. They might not be in love, but at least she and Jemima agreed on many things — and lately, they’d been getting along just fine.

There were definitely worse people she could be married to, as Miles had reinforced in her time living with her sister. Had it not been for the company of her niece and nephew at dinner a couple of evenings, his attitude would have made her say something. It pained her to see her sister living this way, but it was also an insight into just what she’d given up, and how much Alexandra was prepared to put up with for the crown. Not that she had much choice, but still.

Now she was back in her own home, one other thing Olivia could do was ride — she’d missed it greatly.

Olivia approached the stable block, greeting Eddie, her stable hand, before going to her favourite mare, Britney. Tall, dark and elegant, Britney had been named after Olivia’s favourite pop star of her youth — and also to enrage her mother, which it duly had. Olivia had told Britney all her secrets and ridden her throughout some challenging times, and her spirits automatically lifted on seeing her. Whatever else was going on in her life, when she was riding Britney, Olivia was invincible.

“Riding out today, madam?” Eddie asked, tightening Britney’s saddle before giving her a firm pat. “Lovely day for it.”

“Can’t wait,” Olivia said, staring up into the cloudy sky. That was another thing that had changed since coming back from Cornwall: the weather. There, the days had been carpeted with sunshine; back in London, there were always clouds overhead. The weather seemed to be echoing her mood. “Have you been keeping her fit in my absence?”

Eddie nodded. “As instructed, madam. Nothing but the best for Britney.”

Olivia smiled. “Thanks, it means a lot.” She mounted her horse, squeezed her sides lightly and steered her out of the paddock. Just like always, a grin slid onto Olivia’s face as she cantered across the fields, freedom hugging her like a long-lost friend.

She leaned forward, doing the same to Britney. “I’ve missed you, girl,” she said, patting her neck as the horse got into her stride. “And you have no idea what a mess I’ve made of my life since I last saw you. I’ve fallen in love with one woman but I’m marrying another. Can you believe that?”

In the 21st century, she’d mistakenly thought any issues over her marriage would be based around her marrying a woman, not the right kind of woman. But Olivia had underestimated the power of class and tradition.

She kept falling for the wrong women, according to her mother.

“But if I’ve fallen for them, surely they’re the right ones, don’t you think?” she whispered.

The wind whistled past her face as she gripped Britney’s reins, enjoying the pull of muscles she hadn’t used in a while. What was Rosie up to, now? She’d been in contact with Gina after her test and permit had been passed, and she knew the cafe was doing well. Gina had told her some of the clientele were tourists who’d come to eat at the same cafe Olivia had used, but if that was pulling in customers, Olivia was thrilled.

She glanced at her watch as the horse slowed slightly: 3.45pm. Rosie would just have finished the lunch rush and be prepping for the evening service. Hilary would be hovering in the background as she always was, the much-loved family matriarch; and Paige would be having a coffee after college, talking about where she was going to university. Had she chosen yet? She’d confided to Olivia she’d love to go to Durham but feared it might be too far away. Olivia had been to Durham and was all for it. She’d told her to tell Rosie; Paige had been hesitant.

“Rosie.” Saying her name out loud made her seem more solid, more real. She was so far away in distance and in spirit, it often felt like what had happened had been a mirage. But it wasn’t, Olivia knew that. Her feelings weren’t a phase, or something that would go away. She loved her, and if Rosie’s face was anything to go by when she’d left, Olivia was willing to bet Rosie felt the same way. “Rosie!” she shouted into the air, her heart thumping out its own rhythm. “I love you, Rosie Perkins!”

Fuck.

Olivia returned from her ride an hour later, and jumped straight in the shower, her head clearer. Exercise and fresh air always did that for her. She thought back to Otter Bay, to the idyllic afternoon walks along the clifftops and down to the deserted sandy coves beneath. She’d give anything to be back there now, with Rosie.

She checked her phone as she did all day every day: no texts. She was getting the message loud and clear. Rosie had meant what she’d said, they were over. And who could blame her? She’d probably seen the news, too. Olivia and Jemima were getting married.

Damn it all.

She was in black jeans and a black T-shirt, her hair still damp when Jemima walked in, her heels scraping along the slate tiles of the kitchen. Olivia spun round at the sound and gave her a smile. Jemima was wearing dark jeans, too, but they were paired with a summer blazer, jet-black heels and much bling.

“Hello, future wife,” Jemima said, giving her a wink.

They were hardly love’s young dream, but at least they could share a joke. “Hey yourself,” Olivia replied. “You want a drink?”

Jemima nodded. “A coffee would be nice,” she said, glancing around. “Where’s Anna?”

“I gave her the week off,” Olivia told her, flicking on the kettle.

“How are you surviving?” Jemima’s voice was filled with horror. “Who gives their housekeeper a week off?”

Olivia shrugged. “I got used to doing things myself in Otter Bay and I just wanted my own space for a while longer.” She looked up at Jemima, staring at her bright blue eyes. “Because soon, I’m going to be sharing my space with you, aren’t I? Call it making the most of my last days of freedom.” She tried to make a joke of it, but every muscle in her body tightened.

Jemima gave her a smile. “Get this out of your system now because there will be none of this nonsense when we’re together. Housekeepers and cooks are essential to my lifestyle, as you well know.”

Olivia swallowed down her unease, a glimpse of Rosie popping up in her head, running her own business, tackling life head-on. Jemima would fall apart even making a cup of coffee.

“And tell me you’ve got proper coffee? From Italy? I don’t want any of that Fairtrade stuff — I know it’s for charity, but it tastes disgusting.”

Olivia sucked down her immediate reply and waved the cafetière at Jemima. “Will this do, your highness?”

That brought a smile from her fiancée, who leaned against the kitchen counter, raking a hand through her long, blonde hair. She was still beautiful, but Olivia’s pulse only ticked up for one woman these days.

“Do you think they’re going to decide on my title, soon?” Jemima said, licking her lips, her gaze pinned to Olivia. “I know they were talking about maybe making me the Duchess of Bath, but surely that’s a bit small, don’t you think?” She frowned. “You’re the Duchess of Sussex, a whole county. Alexandra’s got a county, too. Bath seems a bit… insignificant?”

Olivia’s actions stilled as she took in Jemima’s words, a sour taste dropping into her mouth. Really? There was so much else to worry about in this marriage, yet Jemima was only concerned about her title and whether or not Bath was big enough for her ego?

Olivia stared at her, her mouth dropping open slightly. “After all these years, you still have the power to take my breath away.” She was being sarcastic, but Jemima narrowed her eyes as the corners of her mouth tweaked into a smile, reaching her index finger out to trail up Olivia’s bare arm.

Olivia got goose bumps, but it was all on the surface. Inside, she was frantically pumping the brakes.

“I thought, maybe, you know,” Jemima continued, raising an eyebrow. Her finger moved higher, running along Olivia’s exposed collarbone. “If you could have a word with your mother about it, see if we could at least upgrade to a bigger city, I could make it worth your while.” She took a step closer, her tongue trailing along her bottom lip, her gaze trained on Olivia. “Plus, we’re going to be married and living together, so we should at least have a welcome-home fuck, for old time’s sake.” She was so close now, Olivia could feel the warmth of her breath. “You have to admit, that was never bad between us.”

Another second and their lips would meet, but Olivia wasn’t going to let that happen.

She yanked her arm from Jemima’s grip and stared at her like she’d gone mad. “You want to sleep with me so my mother will make you Duchess of somewhere bigger?”

Jemima frowned, looking confused. “That, and you’ve got that whole ‘just got out of the shower and looking sexy’ thing going on.” She stepped back. “We are getting married, Olivia. You don’t think we’re going to have sex?”

Olivia’s eyes widened. Was that what Jemima thought? They’d actually sleep together again?

It wasn’t that outrageous, she supposed, but her head had just been filled with Rosie, and she hadn’t given anything else much thought. Sure, in these royal marriages the deal was you slept with other people, but even Alexandra had spawned two children with Miles. She tried to picture her and Jemima naked, but she kept drawing a blank. All she saw was Rosie, deliciously naked and all hers. Nobody else’s.

And just like that, Olivia knew she couldn’t do this. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t stand up in front of Jemima, never mind in front of the whole country and god, and swear to be faithful to someone she didn’t even love. It was ludicrous.

Judging by Jemima’s expression, every thought Olivia was having was being broadcast across her face.

She moved closer again, studying her. “You weren’t going to sleep with me, were you? Like, ever?” She sucked in a breath. “Jesus, Olivia, I know we’re not going to be faithful, but I thought at least I might get the odd roll in the hay. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to this — sex is important and we’re good at it.” She turned, leaning her back on the counter, tipping her head to the ceiling. “But we’re not going to do this, are we? Because you are in love with that woman, aren’t you?”

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek and gripped the counter to stop her shaking. It only partly worked. “I can’t stop thinking about her,” she said, after a few moments.

“Have you contacted her?” Jemima was still looking up.

“She won’t talk to me, why would she? She thinks I’m getting married. I wouldn’t talk to me, either.”

Jemima looked at her, shaking her head, her eyes soft. She put out a hand and led Olivia over to the large kitchen table, pulling out two of the eight wooden chairs. Then she leaned forward, head in her hands.

“Jem?” Olivia’s stomach fell to the floor.

Jemima held up a hand, before shaking her head, bringing herself back upright. “I knew this might happen, but it’s still a bit of a shock.”

Olivia winced. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Jemima’s mouth twitched as she took in a lungful of air.

“But it’s not like you don’t love someone else either, is it?” Olivia said. “You and Tabitha?”

Jemima shook her head again and let out a strangled laugh. “It doesn’t matter if I love her or not, does it? She’s marrying Henry, keeping up appearances.” She paused. “I will always love you, though, you know that, right? You were my first love.”

Olivia gazed at her with a sad smile. “I know.” She paused. “And it was one of the reasons I said yes to this — we get on, I know that.”

“But it’s like you said in the beginning — it’s not enough for you, is it?”

Olivia sighed. “Not now, no. Not when I’ve met someone else and fallen for her.”

“Tell me about her.”

Olivia sat up. “Really? You want to know?” It wasn’t what she’d expected Jemima to say.

Her fiancée just smiled. “If I’m being usurped, I’d like to know who’s doing the usurping.”

Olivia reached over and took Jemima’s hand, giving it a gentle kiss. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I’ve been thinking about it over the past few weeks — even when you were down in Cornwall. I knew something was up, but you wouldn’t talk to me.” Jemima pursed her lips. “The thing is, it’s like we said, we both need to be in this one hundred per cent for it to work. If I’m married to you, I want you to be my partner in a lot of ways. I want the occasional bit of razzle dazzle, the occasional fuck, a laugh, a joke. From what my sisters tell me, that’s more than most couples experience in their marriages. I look around and I agree. Are arranged marriages that different to other marriages? Not from where I’m standing.”

She was dead right. When Olivia looked at her own life, all the marriages she knew — arranged or otherwise — were pretty dire.

“Why do you think people want to get married then?” Olivia asked.

Jemima shrugged. “It’s what you do, a life marker. Or maybe you are actually in love. I don’t hear that one much these days.” She dropped her head. “And I don’t really want to hear about this woman, by the way. I was trying to be nice, but I might have taken it a step too far.”

Olivia’s heart went out to her. “Just know, it would take quite a woman to knock you off anybody’s list.”

Jemima winced. “That doesn’t make it any easier.” She sighed. “But you really do love her?”

“I really do.” Olivia’s heart lit up just talking about her. “Walking away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. She just makes me feel alive. She got to know the real me and not a title, and that means so much.”

“Does she love you, too?”

Did she? When everything had blown up, Rosie had never had a chance to tell her. “I think so. I hope so,” Olivia replied. She wasn’t sure, but she was willing to risk it all to give it a shot.

Jemima stared at her. “If you think there’s a chance, maybe you need to go and ask her, find out for sure. And if she does, you should marry her, not me. I don’t want to be married to a grump all the time, like you have been for the past few weeks.”

“I haven’t been that bad,” Olivia replied, even though she knew she had.

Jemima gave her a look. “You get away with much more being a princess, let’s just agree on that.” She gave Olivia a resigned smile. “So, I guess we’re not deciding on the wedding menu tonight, then?”

“I guess not.” Olivia got up and pulled Jemima up with her. Then she wrapped her arms around her, kissing her cheek, breathing in her expensive smell. “Thank you,” she whispered in her ear. “Thanks for understanding, I’ll never forget it.”

“You’d better not,” Jemima replied. “I do have one condition, though.” She pulled back, looking Olivia directly in the eye. “I want to be out of the country after this has broken and I’ve done my duty of looking happy about it.”

Olivia nodded. “I’ll take the fall, don’t worry.”

“Damn right you will,” Jemima said. “But I want use of your family’s house in Bermuda for at least a month. I do not want to be here when this all blows up. Make that happen and I’ll do whatever you want.”

Olivia stared at her, then nodded. “Life’s not the fairy tale we were promised in childhood, is it?” She paused. “But there’s someone out there for you, too, I’m sure of it. It’s just not me.”