‘Well,’ remarked Justin, ‘I suggest you take him up on his offer. The governor’s coming up to town at the beginning of next week and I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when he does.’

Justin had taken the train back to the West Country, feeling he had done all he could for the moment to rescue Rupert. He was the elder of the twins by two hours, but those two hours were the difference between him being his father’s heir, the future Sir Justin Chalfont, and Rupert being a younger son with a mere competence and his way to make in the world. Far from being identical, the brothers couldn’t have been more different, both in looks and character, but they had always been close and watched each other’s backs as they had grown up on the family estate, Pilgrim’s Oak. Justin had warned Rupert of his father’s wrath and in doing so had probably brought it down on his own head.

Rupert, grateful for the warning, had treated himself to one more night of gaming at Brooks’s in St James’s Street before he left. It had been more successful than his last few evenings at the tables, and when he set off the next morning he was considerably better off than he had been for some time. It seemed as if the gods were smiling on him, and Rupert crossed over to France with a high heart. He decided that he would spend a week or so in Paris enjoying himself – perhaps renewing old acquaintances to be found in the gaming clubs and certain ladies’ boudoirs – before heading to this place, Montmichel at St Etienne, where his acquaintance, Lucas Barrineau, had invited him to stay and attend his wedding.

When he arrived at the Gare du Nord, he took a cab from the rank outside and had himself driven to the Hotel Montreux in a side street off the Boulevard St Germain. It was not a large hotel, but it was comfortable and convenient for the centre of the city. He had stayed there before and it would welcome him back without too much strain on his pocket. The proprietor, Jacques Rocher, recognised him at once and greeted him with a welcoming smile and an outstretched hand.

‘Ah, Monsieur Chalfont, it is a pleasure to see you back in Paris. Welcome to the Hotel Montreux. Will you be making a lengthy stay?’

‘No, Monsieur Rocher, only a week or so and then I shall be moving out into the country.’

‘Indeed, monsieur,’ agreed Rocher with a sigh, ‘I think you will find many people are leaving early this year for the cooler air of the countryside, it has been so hot these past weeks.’ He summoned a lad to carry Rupert’s travelling trunk and led the way upstairs.

‘For you, Monsieur Chalfont, the best room, in the hotel.’ He waved a hand expansively at the room, which was indeed large and looked down on the narrow street below. ‘I will leave you to unpack, monsieur,’ he said. ‘No doubt your man will be following with the rest of your luggage.’