She smiled as she asked him exactly that.

Julian laughed. ‘Wow. And there it is – the steel fist in a velvet glove. Straight to it.’ He tapped a finger around his champagne glass, bemused. ‘Okay, well, it is a good question. And not one I can easily answer.’

Clover’s smile widened. The best questions never were.

‘I suppose I would have to say it’s because I believe in second chances. We’ve all become so censorious, quick to judge, to condemn, to troll. We are not so good at forgiving or showing compassion, I think, but everyone makes mistakes.’ The smile climbed into Julian’s eyes. ‘But listen, I am a businessman too. I will not pretend this just comes from the heart. I know market forces and Kit Foley is a champion. He has got whatever “it” is. He’s insanely talented, driven. Very handsome too, of course – he’s got the classic “men want to be him; women want to be with him” thing going on. And that translates into commercial gold.’

‘Except Burton passed on him. Oakley. Salomon. They clearly didn’t agree.’

‘Because they are too big to be associated with him,’ he shrugged. ‘They need to keep their noses clean. The risks are not the same for us; sometimes, it can be a good thing to be a minnow in a sea of sharks. But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t have liked to pick him up. They know his sporting pedigree! He might be new in this field but he’s got the transferable technical skills, the experience, he knows the pressure of elite competitions; he’s going to be right up there when he debuts this season.’

‘But is medal glory enough to undo what he’s done?’ she pressed. ‘To Joe Public, he’s a dirty player. Perhaps they don’t want to see him win! A lot of people hold him responsible – albeit indirectly – for Cory Allbright’s death.’

Julian looked at her. ‘As you do.’

Clover shrugged, not denying it. ‘Cory became my friend, yes. I got up close to the consequences of Kit’s actions that day. It was hard to see.’

Julian’s smooth brow furrowed. ‘Should I be worried? Will you give him a fair hearing?’

‘Kit’s not exactly helped himself so far,’ she said frankly. ‘Yes, I’ll listen to him, but I’ll go where the story takes me, and you should know that I can’t make any assurances that you’ll like what I find.’ Clover shrugged. ‘This’ – she gestured to the beautiful dining room – ‘is glorious, and I thank you for your hospitality, but . . .’