He took her hand. ‘Steph, there’s something I need to tell you . . .’

To his surprise, Steph shook her head. ‘Not tonight,’ she said fiercely. ‘I knew there was something going on. Is it over?’

‘Oh . . .’ he looked startled. ‘Yes. How did you . . .?’

‘I’m your wife, David. I know you inside and out. Besides –’ she smiled at him with a tenderness that tore his heart – ‘you’re a terrible liar. It’s one of the things I love about you.’

He reached out and touched her face. ‘The thing is . . .’ He stopped suddenly, his eyes on the window. Suzi stood outside, staring in.

Seconds later, Steph turned round to see what had caught his attention. There was no one in the street except a disappearing figure in a leopardskin coat.

‘Let’s order,’ David insisted, suddenly brusque. ‘I think I need a large steak.’

‘David,’ she shook her head, laughing, trying to recapture the mood of moments ago, ‘you always need a large steak.’

He couldn’t tell her after all. They’d invested everything in Fleur-de-Lis. How could he confess that it was all down to his stupidity? And what was Suzi doing staring in like that? Oh Jesus, he needed to sort out his life or he might as well jump in the Savarin River. Maybe they could borrow some more from the bank. But he knew that was a fantasy, just like his answer that it was all over with Suzi. How had he let his life get in this stupid bloody mess?

Steph kept up a flow of bright conversation for the rest of the evening, but she knew something was wrong, and had no idea what. By the time they got back to Fleur-de-Lis everyone was in bed. The kitchen was tidy and immaculately clean. How wonderful, thought Steph. It usually took her hours.

There was a note from Jean-Christophe that all seemed to have gone very well. Even the vegetarian option had been popular.

‘He seems quite a find, that boy,’ commented David. ‘I’ll just go and lock up.’

Steph smiled. ‘See you in a moment.’ And then added softly, ‘Don’t be too long!’

She almost ran upstairs, undressed quickly and slipped into the sexy silk nightgown she’d bought in the market, which managed to look reassuringly Bond Street. The lighting was already low and flattering.

David arrived ten minutes later and for some reason undressed in the bathroom.

‘Come on,’ Steph murmured, holding the covers open invitingly.

David slipped in beside her. She began to caress him in the way she knew he liked.

He turned abruptly away. ‘Stop, Steph,’ he whispered, his voice full of anguish. ‘I don’t think I can . . .’