“No,” I say slowly. As it occurs to me what life will be like without him, suddenly the time ahead looks dull and dreary, as if the sun’s going in on a wonderful day. Without the merry smile, the sassiness, the kindness of him. It’s only as I face the prospect of him not being around anymore that I realise just how much I’ve treasured the time he has been. The emptiness inside me is sufficiently alarming to straighten my back.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll all miss you,” I say briskly, and I’m saddened to see the smile fade slowly from those full lips.

“I’ll miss you too,” he says, and it’s not until I’m in the shower that I realise he mentioned only me.

Chapter Six

Zeb

An hour later finds me on the field next to the hotel. I look around to see Max sauntering towards me. “You shouldn’t have dressed up,” I say wryly, looking at his jeans and red T-shirt.

“I didn’t.” He looks me up and down. “Although why would I when you look so spiffy?”

I shake my head. “It’s navy chinos and a shirt. Frances wanted everyone to dress up for this in historic costume, but this is as far as I can go without getting heatstroke.”

“My outfit is historical. These jeans are at least eight years old.”

“Why am I explaining this to you? You read the itinerary, didn’t you?”

“Read it and mourned the fact that I’ve probably misplaced a precious childhood memory to retain that information.” He looks around. “Is that man wearing plus fours? I didn’t think anyone made them anymore.”

“Shh!” I hiss. “Someone will hear you.”

“Then maybe they can explain people’s attire this morning. We are actually shooting bits of pottery, aren’t we, not stalking pheasants?”

“You know Frances,” I say out of the corner of my mouth. “She watches a lot of Downton Abbey.”

“I watch a lot of porn. Doesn’t mean I corral people into wearing bad underwear and having very stilted conversations.” He pauses as he sees Nina. “Brilliant. Now I need mental bleach.”

“It’s your own fault,” I say serenely. “Where’s your boy toy this morning, anyway?”

“Resting up,” he says with a wolfish grin. “When I left, he was sunbathing on the balcony wearing the smallest pair of briefs I’ve ever seen.”

I shake my head. “And when do you move on to the next one?”

He shrugs. “When I feel like it.” He nudges me. “Don’t give me that disapproving look. You’ve brought your own diversion this week.”

“Distraction, more like it,” I say glumly and groan when I see his delighted expression. “Please don’t matchmake,” I say imploringly.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not very good at it, which goes a long way to explaining your single status too.”