CHAPTER ONE

      IT was late in the afternoon as the train left Hoffenstein and the thickly falling snow obliterated vision so that there was little beyond the misted windows of the small carriage to warrant any enthusiasm. The track wound continuously upwards, the lines of the pass sometimes disappearing beneath the white carpet of flakes until the heat of the iron wheels burnt their way through. And yet the steady rhythm of the wheels was soothing, and the softly falling flakes provided an adequate shield against what was beyond this journey. High above, the glaciers thrust their relentless peaks to the sky, looking down with what seemed icy disdain on the intruding pitiful vulnerability of the railway.

      Victoria flicked through the pages of the glossy magazine on her lap and then, with determination, rubbed away the mist on the glass and peered out with concentrated effort, but there was little to be seen. She sighed, and thrust the magazine to one side, exchanging a smile with a rather harassed-looking elderly woman who had joined the train at Hoffenstein and who appeared to have been shopping from the enormous basket she supported on her lap. But as Victoria did not speak fluent German and the woman was obviously an Austrian she did not like to attempt any conversation even though she would have been glad of the chance to ask how much further Reichstein was.

      Trying to quell the nervous tension that had gripped her since she left London the day before, Victoria tried to relax. But it was impossible to relax when every time she closed her eyes her mind ran wildly in all directions trying to find acceptable reasons for what she was doing. But acceptable to whom? she asked herself. Herself or Meredith? But why should she consider Meredith when he had shown so little consideration for her? And yet his image persisted in intruding, causing that nervous fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. She bit her lip. Had her actions been premature? Maybe if her godmother had not obtained this position for her they would have been able to work something out. Other people did.

      Then she chided herself. Aunt Laurie had been only thinking of saving her unhappiness when she had made these arrangements, and the resentment Victoria was now harbouring was ungrateful, to say the least. It was no use, Meredith was married, and he had concealed that fact from her. She would not continue to go about with him in the face of this new knowledge. He must have known that when he concealed his marriage from her.

      She sighed. He was bound to look for her when he discovered she had left London. Even now, he was probably using his power and influence to find where she had gone. And when he did find her he would come looking for her because he thought she was unable to resist him. That thought calmed her. She was not that involved. Their relationship had been enjoyable while it lasted, exciting at times, and he had indulged her extravagantly, but she had never been his plaything, and for that now she was thankful. Maybe that was why he had found her so absorbing. Until meeting her he had found little difficulty in devastating his conquests.

      Victoria transferred her attention to the window again. Surely they must be nearing Reichstein. Of course, the train was running late with this terrible weather, but even so …

      With a characteristic shrug, she gathered her belongings together and thrust the magazines she had bought for the journey into her bag. She might as well be prepared for arrival when it did come. Then she stood up