Sitting alone in our beautiful £3 million Georgian townhouse in Bath, I was watching TV one night when I heard an unfamiliar sound. I turned the volume down and listened acutely, but everything was quiet so I returned to Homeland, one of many spy shows I had become obsessed with since my fiance Mark confided in me that he worked for MI6. I had plenty of time to watch them. We were supposed to be living in this house together while work went ahead on the even grander country mansion which was to be our marital home. But his foreign missions and many business interests meant that we had not spent a single night together since meeting six months previously.