Virgin on Her Wedding Night. Lynne Graham

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      Silenced by that harsh condemnation, Caroline swallowed back the protest that her parents deserved a little more sympathy because as their income had dwindled so their household budget had had to be slashed. All extras had been shaved away, the housekeeper and the gardener laid off. Valente was not the man to give her family sympathy, for there was too big a difference between their backgrounds. Caroline had never wanted for anything while Valente had grown up in poverty with a mother whose ill-health had killed her by the time he was eighteen. His tougher experiences had ensured that only major affliction could ignite his compassion.

      ‘Even so, your parents did not deserve your husband’s betrayal of their trust,’ Valente continued drily with an observation that caused Caroline to stumble on the stairs.

      His hand shot out to steady her and he stepped behind her to prevent her from falling backwards. Momentarily, his body braced hers, with all the heady heat and masculinity of his powerful frame. She quivered and then tensed, fighting her awareness of his proximity with all her might.

      ‘What on earth are you implying?’ Caroline asked curtly.

      ‘Your late husband was nothing more than a thief, who helped himself to profits even when the business was struggling—’

      On the landing, Caroline spun round to face him, agitation and anger colouring her heart-shaped face. ‘He may have spent unwisely on some items, but he was not a thief!’