With an assured twist of his hand, Joseph waved away the attendants in the hallway. As he did so, he turned to the Queen, amused, as ever, at the soft exhale of breath that always accompanied his dismissal of the staff. Neither of them were naïve enough to believe that they had escaped suspicion, but it was good not to be watched for a change.

Reaching down, Joseph gently clasped her gloved hand in his, surprising her perhaps a little with the swiftness of his gesture. Bringing it to his lips, he brushed her fingers with a kiss.

"You look wonderful tonight, you know?"

She smiled, her eyes twinkling, capturing his, "Thank you"

"Would you like some cocoa, or shall we take a walk in the garden? I believe that it is all ours now…"

As they turned right and walked down the now-deserted corridor, Joe dropped her hand and placed his own at the nape of her neck. Swooping down gently over her bared shoulders, he caressed her back as they walked.

"As tempting as a walk sounds, my dear," she said, in a low voice, "I am rather exhausted. Would you mind terribly?"

Turning to look at him, she was intrigued by the curl of his lips,

"Not if we can be exhausted together…"

Trying to suppress a laugh, the Queen attempted a shocked expression…and failed miserably. They had arrived at the door to her suite and as she eased herself from Joe's warm embrace, and backed slowly into the room, she nodded, "Granted – now go and fetch me some cocoa, I want to change out of this meringue"

With a slickness that never failed to amaze her, he kissed her softly on the forehead, and then departed before she'd even drawn breath.

Sitting at her dressing table, Clarisse took off her jewellery. Placing the earrings carefully in their box with the necklace, she smiled, daydreaming of the evening that she had received them, all those years ago.

Well, seven to be precise. It had been the night of the Annual Pear Gathering Dinner, and she had, as usual, been fussing about what to wear. Rupert had disappeared into the library with a large brandy and a cigar, leaving her, and her poor maids to be indecisive. Finally she had settled upon a simple pale blue silk gown and, having dismissed the maids (how she hated their bustle and preening fingers, even if she knew they meant well!) she was fixing her hair. Her gaze fell upon the jewel case on the bedside table. Rupert. As always, he had selected the jewels for her to wear and placed them where she would find them. Perhaps in the hands of someone else this gesture would have been romantic. But she knew better. It was one of his ways, one of the stupid, and yet insistent ways of controlling her. It was rare that they agreed in their choice. And yet she would wear them. It struck her with a certain irony – the very symbol he saw as marking her as his possession reminded her of the huge crack that was spreading through their marriage.

With a sad, rueful smile, she opened the case. Her breath caught in her throat as she was struck by the beautiful simplicity of the tiny diamond pendant and matching studs. They were perfect. And yet she was confused – this was so unlike Rupert – never had he bought anything so simple, so, well, un-regal, and so perfectly beautiful. Could it be that he had finally listened to her for once?

She had worn the jewels that night and looked enchanting. But Rupert hadn't said a word. As he waltzed her round the ballroom he had held her stiffly and with a formality that was cold, even for him. Not that she expected love, nor even lust, but a sense of friendship would have been comforting. As the music ended, she murmured her apologies to Rupert and left the ballroom for the balcony, to look out over the garden. She had been standing there for a good few minutes, lost in her thoughts, before she heard the footsteps behind her.

"Please Rupert, not now…" she whispered, half to herself, half to the figure that approached.

"Your majesty?" his words were soft, but deliberate.

"Joseph?" again, she was almost whispering. " I'm sorry, I didn't expect it to be you. How long have you been…?" her words trailed off, as she realised the implications of where that question was going.

"Long enough."

She smiled sadly at his words, the wider meaning obvious to them both. She leant back against the cool stone of the balcony, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. Joseph always had this effect on her. It was strange, around him she relaxed more than at any other time, and yet it was close to him that she so painfully felt her formal duty.

He noticed her smile, just as he noticed everything about her, and stepped forward, out of the shadows. He wanted so much to take her in his arms and hold her, to show her the gentleness and unconditional love that she had been deprived of for so long. But of course he did not.

"Are you enjoying the party, your Majesty?", his voice was careful, measured, not wanting to ask too much.

"You have been watching the whole event, Joseph, what would you say?"

"I would say not"

"And you would be correct."

"And so you are out here?" He watched her gentle peeling her gloves off and laying them carefully on the balcony beside her. It was with a preoccupied air that she replied:

"And so I am, once again, out here…"

"Is here so very bad?" He was serious now, and as she looked up, she could see that in his eyes. They were dark and intense, eyes to get lost in, and yet there was nothing that unsettled her. She held his gaze, relaxing under it, a rare privilege indeed, and answered softly, "Not at all."