Angela took his arm, guided him to a chair, and then went to the opposite side of the dining table and sat down herself, smiling warmly at him. ‘I didn’t have any idea what food you like,’ she remarked, ‘so I just kept the menu simple, just as I like.’

‘I’m not a picky eater,’ Blackie answered swiftly. ‘I enjoy most things.’ As he said this, he realized he wasn’t hungry at all, for once in his life. At least not for food. He sat staring at this beautiful woman, transfixed.

Claudie walked across and paused at the table. ‘Everything is ready on the sideboard. Enjoy supper.’

‘Thank you,’ Angela said, and Blackie also gave her his thanks.

Once they were alone, Angela pushed back her chair, stood, and hurried to the sideboard. ‘Claudie has potato and leek soup for us.’ Whilst she was speaking, she put the bowls on a small tray and carried this to the table, placed one in front of Blackie and then the other at her place. ‘I think you’ll like it,’ she said, picking up a spoon.

He did, and unexpectedly his appetite revived. After several mouthfuls, he put the spoon down and looked across the table at her. ‘It’s delicious. I’ve never tasted this kind of soup before. Claudie is obviously a good cook.’

‘She is. Her father was a Frenchman, Arnaud Bouvier, and she learned a lot from him. You see, he was a French chef by trade.’

‘In Harrogate?’ Blackie asked, a dark brow lifting.

‘Yes. He came to England as a very young man with his brother Jacques. They opened a little shop, and it did well. Jacques handled the business and Arnaud was the chef. His great speciality was confectionery, and he was also a wonderful baker.’

‘Well, fancy that. How interesting their story is. I never think of foreigners living in the north. I always think of them in London.’

‘I know what you mean, but the man who has opened a café in Harrogate called Hettys is a pastry chef from Switzerland.’

‘Really?’ Blackie stared at her, amazement apparent. ‘Ye are a fountain of information, just like Sarah. But in a different way,’ he thought to add.

Angela nodded. ‘I grew up in Harrogate, as I told you.’ Rising, she took the empty bowls away and, over her shoulder, she said, ‘Blackie, come and help yourself to the main course. Claudie and I prepared cutlets with new potatoes. There are green peas too.’

Blackie strode across to the sideboard, took the plate she was offering, and gave her an appreciative look. ‘It’s quite a supper ye planned, Angela. Thank ye for inviting me.’

‘I’m happy you’re here,’ she murmured, looking up into his face, her eyes riveted on his.

‘I’m happy too, so I am,’ he murmured in a low voice, held by her eyes. His heart thudded once more.