If they lazed the afternoon away in bed, snogging like two love struck teenagers, well, who could blame them? Beatrice and Henry certainly turned a blind eye to their swollen lips and the inexpertly healed bruise gracing Harry’s throat when they arrived for dinner, and when Beatrice stopped Harry on his way to bed and congratulated him for patching things up with Tom, Harry hardly blushed at all. He and Tom were fiancés now, for real. It was only right that they kiss.