Chapter 4

The applause for his father's toast lifted me out of my chair. Two hundred people were clapping toward the head table, and nobody claps and watches the doors. My husband Julian was on his feet with the rest, glass raised. I walked the length of the hall the way staff walk it, quick and not worth watching.

Past the cloakroom, through the service door, down three steps. The car park smelled of cold gravel. I kept the stained side of my hem turned in against my leg.

The valet came off his stool by the key cabinet, young enough to…