As he made a move to leave, Cynthia reached out to grab his arm. ‘I must say, you don’t look to be overcome with exhaustion.’ Her voice took on a coaxing purr. ‘Why don’t you two have dinner with us tonight? We’re only in Perth for a few days while Nick closes a deal, and it’d be lovely to catch up with you again.’

Nick patted his wife’s hand as it lay on his arm. ‘I must say, I think that’s an excellent idea. Not if you’re too tired, of course.’

Megan could feel her husband’s tension in the arm that still lay around her shoulders. Why? Because he was still attracted to that woman? Or because he didn’t want to spend time with her? It suddenly seemed rather important to know which, yet she knew she couldn’t ask him.

Oh, she was getting so tired of treading carefully all the time!

‘We won’t take no for an answer,’ said Cynthia firmly. ‘You were obviously going out somewhere to eat and it might as well be with us. How about a cocktail before dinner? Nick’s hardly seen anyone for ages. Convalescence is so tedious. It’ll do him good to chat with an old friend.’ She smiled rather too sweetly at Megan. ‘Not to mention making a new one.’

What’s the woman up to? Megan wondered, as Ben squeezed her shoulder and accepted for them both.

She’d have said no and eaten in their room.

After a cocktail, they dined in the hotel restaurant. The meal seemed interminable to Megan. She chatted, tried to smile, listened to talk about people who meant nothing to her. And gradually she began to wonder whether Cynthia wasn’t doing this on purpose.

At one stage, when she was feeling as though she could not bear this meaningless chat for another second longer, she excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. You’re not in that woman’s league, she told her face in the mirror. Dear Cynthia absolutely oozes elegance and wealth. I bet she does nothing but buy clothes when her husband’s busy.

As Megan patted her unruly hair into place, she shook her head. A real country bumpkin, that’s what you are, Megan Ross. Then she mentally corrected herself. No, she was Megan Saunders now and must not forget that. Nor must she allow Cynthia to forget it.

She sighed and searched the mirror again, feeling she ought to look different now she was married. But she didn’t. Same old rosy, unsophisticated face.