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man fascinated her, if she was truthful. As did his story…
    It turned out that James had not been born to bethe earl of Winterborne. That honour had gone to his brother, Laurence, who was an amazing twenty years his elder.
    This Laurence had apparently been a bit of a wild one, given to gambling and living the high life. Unfortunately, his father, the Earl, had dropped dead of a coronary soon after his elder son turned twenty-one, so Laurence had inherited the title at a young age.
    Admittedly, Laurence had startled everyone by marrying almost immediately, but any hope that marriage would settle him down and make him face the responsibilities associated with his title, plus running the family estate, had soon evaporated—mostly due to his choice of wife.
    Joy was the youngest daughter in a family of four daughters, all of them renowned for their wildly ambitious and social-climbing natures. With the high-flying Joy by his side, Laurence’s life had been even more flamboyant and extravagant than ever. They’d gambled together, travelled abroad, skied, shopped and partied. They’d hardly ever been at Winterborne Hall, which was a relief to Laurence’s mother, who was still grieving for her husband while trying to bring up a young son at the age of forty-five.
    The birth of a daughter, Estelle, two years after their wedding, had done nothing to change the jet-setting lifestyle of Lord and Lady Winterborne. They’d merely installed their new-born baby at Winterborne Hall with a nanny and taken off again.
    Because of their closeness in age, Estelle had been more like a little sister to James than a niece, andalthough he and his mother had done their best to fill the gaps of love in the child’s life Estelle had grown up feeling neglected and abandoned by her parents. She’d always imagined it would have been different if she’d been a boy, and heir to the title, but James doubted it. His brother didn’t give a fig about what happened to the title after he was gone.
    Estelle had eventually left home and begun taking drugs, then, after her parents cut off her allowance, had paid for her habit through selling herself on the streets.
    By this time James had been at university, at Cambridge, and Estelle would occasionally contact him when she was desperate for money. He would try to talk some sense into her but to no avail. It had only been when she’d fallen pregnant a few years later—father unknown—that he was able to talk her into going home.
    She had, and, with her grandmother’s help, had stayed drug-free till she’d given birth to her daughter, Rebecca. Less than a month later, however, she had died of an overdose of heroin. She was twenty-five—two years younger than her uncle James.
    Rebecca’s grandparents, who’d still been leading self-indulgent lives, had been no more interested in their granddaughter’s well-being than they had in their own daughter’s. A nanny had been hired and that was that. Unfortunately, when Rebecca was only one year old, her great-grandmother had passed away, and, with James leading his own life in London by then,little Rebecca had seemed doomed to grow up even more lonely and neglected than her own mother.
    Fate had stepped in, however, when her grandparents were killed on the ski-slopes of Switzerland during an avalanche two years back, making James the new Earl of Winterborne. He’d taken over the reins at Winterborne Hall, plus the guardianship of his then five-year-old great-niece, and had just brought some real love and happiness into the poor tot’s life when she’d been diagnosed with leukaemia.
    Her existence over the last couple of years had consisted of nothing but doing the rounds of specialists, stays in hospitals, chemotherapy and sheer misery.
    â€˜So you can see,’ Rebecca’s amazingly young great-uncle finished up, ‘she’s been having a real rough time of