“Not about the company.”

“Then what?”

Hugh smiled. “Nothing to do with business. I’m asking you out.”

Sophie gazed at him.

“Out,” Hugh repeated. “You know, lunch, dinner. A date. We could do something, if you prefer; go to the theatre, or a concert. But I prefer a simple meal, at least to start off with.”

“But why are you asking me out?”

“Why does a man usually ask a woman out?” Hugh smiled again; now he’d said it, he was absolutely at ease. “Well. Sophie, I should very much like to get to know you better.’

Sophie looked at Hugh, and blushed. This moment had been hovering on the edge of her fantasies; she’d tried not to think about it. And now that it was here, Sophie felt frightened.

Just a little.

“I don’t know if it’s such a great idea.” She thought of Gregoire, of her frigidity. “I don’t think I’d be very good company.”

“I wish you would allow me to be the judge of that.”

“Relationships with men are not my strong suit, apparently,” she said. And then wanted to kick herself. Apparently? Would he ask her what that meant?

But Montfort held off.

“If I might make an observation, Mme Massot—”

“As you’ve asked me out, it better be Sophie.”

“Sophie.” He smiled. “A beautiful name, and it suits you. English and French; I suppose you’ve become a little of both.”

“I suppose so.” She smiled back; it was impossible not to bask in the warmth of his attractiveness.

“Anyway, I was going to observe that all I am asking for is the pleasure of your company at dinner. We could enjoy a meal, and if you still feel uncomfortable, I won’t pursue it.” He gave a sudden, wolfish grin. “At least, not indefinitely. I will confess to planning a little persistence.”

“Just a meal?” Sophie asked suspiciously.

“That’s all; just a meal. I realize this is a stressful time for you. I am aware of some of the pressures you have lately been under, from people in whom your trust has been misplaced. You are still trying to fight the Mayberry bid. I understand that you may be feeling overwhelmed.”

She couldn’t help it; she gave a bitter little laugh, very unlike herself.

“Excuse me,” Sophie said. “But you don’t know how true that is.”

“I know some of it. It used to be my business to know.”

“Do you have children?” she asked.

Montfort shook his head. “I lost my wife and child long ago.” “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a child.”

“Unborn,” he said. “But real to me.”

Her throat thickened, and she had to turn her head away; she thought of Tom’s cold face.