The heat of the room hit me and I fought a strange urge to sigh.

‘It is wonderful to see so many people in my home,’ Kattan said, beckoning a waiter. ‘I fear it is often a little empty. And I believe you are not alone tonight?’

I shook my head. ‘No. I must introduce my husband.’ I caught James’s eye across the room, he raised a hand in greeting.

‘I hope you do not mind me saying, Mrs Miller, this colour red, it compliments you well.’ His voice was like a caress, and I flushed, reminding myself I was here to do a job.

‘That’s a Stubbs, isn’t it, Mr Kattan?’ I indicated an old painting of a glossy racehorse on the wall behind him. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘It is indeed. One of my favourites for the line and realisation.’ Kattan stood beside me now. ‘I have some marvellous hunters here on the estate. I fear they do not get enough usage.’

‘That’s a shame.’

‘Do you ride? You could borrow one if you so desire.’

‘Thank you.’ I shuddered involuntarily. ‘But I don’t really.’ I would never ride again, I knew that much. ‘Do you?’

A flicker of something indecipherable crossed his face. ‘No. Maya does, occasionally, but it seems infrequent now.’

I had a sudden image of this man’s hand on my bare arm. It was incredibly warm in here; the drink was obviously going to my head. James finally wandered over to shake hands.

‘Great picture.’ My husband helped himself to a canapé from a tray, pointing at a Picasso next to an Emin. ‘Think I prefer his earlier stuff, though. Not sure about all those weird-shaped women, personally.’ He shoved the shiny caviar in his mouth inelegantly. ‘Bit spiky for me. I like a boob or two.’

‘James!’ I reproved softly, embarrassed.

He rolled his eyes. ‘So what exactly brought you to our neck of the woods, Mr Kattan?’

‘This property came up for rental. I liked the countryside here. It is peaceful to me.’

‘It is beautiful, isn’t it?’ James agreed.

I doubted James had noticed as much as a hedgerow since the day we left London. Very occasionally he ventured into the garden to kick a ball with Freddie, but he spent most of his time in the studio or rushing back to the city.

‘Also,’ Kattan stroked his beard lightly, ‘I have some interests in the area.’

‘Really?’ I was curious. ‘What kind of interests?’

‘My son, Ash, wishes to run for Parliament in the next election, Mrs Miller.’ Hadi Kattan caught my eye and held it. ‘He is very fond of the area. He was educated nearby. This party is for him.’

Ash. The name was like a klaxon. The man from the garage, the man who dragged the girl back to the car.

I glanced around uneasily.