There’s something almost insolent in Charlie’s leisurely amble over to where Harry is waiting, fingers tapping on the chair. The corners of my mouth tip up in approval.

Waiters start to move around us, serving the starters, and the room fills with the sound of excited chatter. I sip my wine and look around.

These people are really not my sort of crowd. They’re insanely posh, for a start. I deal with people like them every day, catering to their demands and their arrogance, and they tolerate me because I make them a lot of money. Or rather, I deal with their daddies because this sort is the next generation. Not quite ready to take over the reins of the family business or to marry the right men and pop out the next load of self-entitled children with names like Tarquin or Sebastian, they exist in the here and now, their whole lives dedicated to the pursuit of fun. But the right kind of fun. The trendy, expensive kind of fun.

I’ve skied alongside people like this, sat on beaches in far-flung places and listened to their cut-glass accents. Their voices are always loud, as they’re totally unconcerned with what ordinary people might think of them. Candlelight flickers across the tanned shoulders of the girls and makes their unlined faces glow.

The food is superb, but I pick at mine. I’m not feeling this weekend, but I knew it would be like this. It’s not as if I was expecting a fun time. I’m here for Charlie. My eyes automatically seek him out. He’s leaning across the table talking to Jamie, and Jamie’s laugh rises high above the noise of the group.

The girl sitting opposite me looks over too, and her expression pinches in disapproval. She’s beautiful with long red hair that glows in the candlelight, but the scowl on her face makes her look almost ugly.

The blonde girl next to her nudges her. “What’s up with you?”

“Just looking at Jamie slobbering over that Charlie bloke.”

“What’s the problem with that?”

The redhead shrugs. “It’s just such a massive waste of his time. Oliver tried to set him up with Lorcan, but Jamie didn’t want to know. Too obsessed with his librarian. He works in a council library, for God’s sake. It’s so common. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were at Oxford or Cambridge.”

“He’s very good-looking though,” the blonde girl offers. “All that hair is lovely, and he’s got a smashing smile.”

The redhead shrugs. “I can’t see the attraction myself. God knows what he has that Lorcan doesn’t.”

“Brains,” I offer, and the two girls stop talking abruptly, staring at me. “Just a thought,” I say, taking a sip of my drink. “Or maybe the appeal is that Charlie’s family aren’t an advertisement for years of interbreeding.”