Dry-slope skiing, Steph decided, wasn’t really her thing, and after falling over four times she’d given it up as a bad idea. Now, as she showered, she inspected her body for any grazing or bruising, of which there appeared to be none, thankfully. As Steph washed, she couldn’t help thinking about what had happened that morning. If anyone had said to her she would be on the brink of having fast and lustful sex in a bird hide with Harry Sinclair, she would have either laughed in their face or been totally mortified. She let the water run over her body as she thought of Harry Sinclair – she really should be careful. It probably wouldn’t be her best move to become involved in some sort of relationship with him, not when she was trying to find out what happened to his wife. However, a small voice in the back of her head was quietly reminding her that becoming involved with Harry Sinclair might be an advantage when it came to finding out more about Elizabeth and what had happened here two years ago.

Conmere, Saturday, 11 May, 7 p.m.

Steph took extra care with her appearance that night and was thankful she’d packed the LBD rather than another pair of trousers. She certainly felt much more feminine than she had last night.

Walking over to the main house, she kept an eye out for Harry, half expecting him to meet her at some point, and couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed when she arrived in the dining hall and he was nowhere to be seen.

This evening she was at a different table with different guests who didn’t appear to be local but were from further afield. Steph tried to concentrate on the various conversations but her gaze kept wandering, trying to seek out Harry. It wasn’t until right on 7.30, when the food was being brought out, that she saw him slip into the room. He looked over in her direction immediately and she assumed he must have checked out the seating plan beforehand. He gave a nod and a small smile, which sent her stomach into a spin but for all the wrong reasons.

There was something different in his face tonight. The smile was there but there was no warmth with it, and his eyes didn’t sparkle as they had earlier that day. She looked down at her glass, embarrassed that she had expected anything else. She’d made a fool of herself earlier, that was certain. She was so bloody stupid sometimes. He was probably after a different conquest tonight. She could feel the burn of embarrassment in her face. She would just have to play it cool and not show that it bothered her.

As she looked up with what she hoped was more composure, she was surprised to see the maître d’ at her side.