I tapped the side of my nose as if it were a secret and winked. I might have been honest about my origins with the Wild Man but that was in pursuit of a greater cause. Advertising that I was the last remaining member of the Adair Clan wouldn’t serve me now. Fortunately, the bartender got the memo and nodded knowingly. If he was curious about my reasons for keeping my Clan secret, he was too polite to show it.

I passed over another ten-pound note and lowered my voice. ‘I might sit here for a while,’ I said. ‘I like people-watching.’ I tilted my head. ‘I don’t particularly enjoy getting drunk though.’

The bartender stroked his chin. ‘We have a wonderful sparkling cider that’s entirely alcohol free. And it’s very similar in colour to champagne.’

I grinned, briefly forgetting my role as temptress in favour of acknowledging the bartender’s understanding. ‘That sounds wonderful.’

He smiled in return. ‘Last night, Byron Moncrieffe arrived around seven,’ he told me.

I decided to brazen it out. ‘Am I that obvious?’

‘You’re not the first woman who’s heard that he’s in town. You’re not even the first Sidhe.’ He jerked his head to a table over to the right. I discreetly followed his movement, registering the three young Sidhe girls dressed up to the nines and giggling.

I lifted a shoulder in rueful acknowledgment that he’d caught me out. As if. ‘Any tips?’

The bartender’s looked quickly left and right, as if someone might be listening in. Then he leaned over. ‘He prefers doing the chasing himself.’

‘Noted.’ By the sound of things, the playboy princeling was as predictable as I had imagined. I had no idea what the bartender thought of me trailing after royalty and I didn’t much care. It would suit my purpose if he lumped me in with all the other hangers on.

Less than twenty minutes later, when my champagne glass had been helpfully filled with cider rather than anything that might cause inebriation, three snooty-looking Sidhe swept into the bar. I was in luck. A helpful nod from the bartender confirmed my suspicions.

The Sidhe ejected a family from the best table in the centre of the room and set about checking the surface for minute traces of dirt and ordering drinks. Ah ha. The advance entourage.

I straightened my posture and angled myself away from the table. Just as another group entered, Byron Moncrieffe included, I flipped out my hair in a move calculated to garner attention. Then I pointedly ignored them all.