‘Why don’t we go and sit over there?’ She pointed to a table in the corner.

At this, David experienced a twinge of uncertainty. It could be seen as innocent enough sitting at the bar, but sharing a table might look a bit odd. But now the drinks had come, and Suzi had already collected his packages and started to carry them to the table.

David got off the bar stool and followed her. At least there didn’t seem to be anyone in here they knew. Thank God.

It seemed to David they had only got through about a third of their drink when Suzi suddenly got up, announcing that she’d just remembered an urgent engagement.

She took his hand. ‘David, it’s been a pleasure. I hope we can repeat it again soon.’ With that she squeezed into a jacket that seemed to be several sizes too small, put on her sunglasses and departed, leaving David feeling completely mystified.

Guillaume caught his eye and shrugged. ‘Les femmes. C’est un mystère.’

Although in Suzi’s case, as Guillaume well knew, it was less a mystery and more an obvious tactic for piquing the poor sap’s interest. In fact, as his years behind the bar had shown him, men’s behaviour was far less logical than women’s. And this time the target had no idea what was headed in his direction.

‘The duke and duchess await you in the orangery,’ announced Héloise, trying to keep a smirk from her horse-like features at the thought of reeling in this rich British woman who, like so many of her compatriots who had settled here, apparently had more money than sense. No doubt this one thought it was all some happy fairy-tale fantasy.

The duke stood up at their entrance, flashing his trademark charming smile. ‘Ladies, welcome back. May I offer you some of our vin de noix, which Liam, our vigneron, makes from the green walnuts picked in June? It is our most famous apéritif.’

Steph and Jo agreed but Meredith, instantly transforming from smiling tourist into hard-headed businesswoman, shook her head. ‘I would rather we had the serious discussion first, if you don’t mind. We may as well not beat about the bush, as we say in English. I am prepared to offer the asking price subject to the usual considerations. Legal searches of title—’

‘The château has been owned by the de Savarin family for twelve generations, madame,’ Margot, who had been intending to conduct the negotiations herself, interrupted with more than a touch of frost. ‘I do not think you will find there is a problem with the title.’

‘Consideration of any restrictive covenants, a structural survey naturally . . .’

‘Madame, this is a thirteenth-century château, not a penthouse in Monaco,’ snapped Margot, ignoring a warning glance from the duke that they were not dealing with some country solicitor. This woman knew what she was doing.