Telling the ostler there would be a franc for him if he had the horse ready to be put to just before three, he set off on foot for the market. Annette was working with Benny at the stall and was delighted to see him.

‘What’s this then?’ demanded Benny. ‘Love’s young dream? Go on, off with the pair of you, but be back within the hour. Got some business to see to, right?’

Annette and Pierre scurried away before he could change his mind and went into the café on the edge of the market that they had been frequenting.

The patron grinned at them. ‘You’re early,’ he remarked. ‘Skiving, are you?’

He let them take their usual table in a quiet corner, and at last they could speak.

‘What are you doing here?’ she murmured. ‘You didn’t say you were coming.’

‘Unexpected chance,’ he said. ‘But I needed to see you.’

‘I needed to see you too,’ she said with the smile that produced the hidden dimples that made Pierre long to gather her to him and kiss her. He made do with touching the dimples with the tip of his finger and then said, ‘There’s something we need to discuss. First of all, Monsieur St Clair is here in Paris, so I may not be able to see you for some time. We have to return to Belair after the weekend, so I don’t know when I can come to you again.’ He took her hand as the joy at seeing him faded from her face. ‘Listen, chérie,’ he said. ‘There’s more. We’ve had a letter – at least you have, but it was addressed to me at Belair.’

‘A letter.’ Annette was immediately intrigued. ‘Who from?’

‘Who do you think?’

‘I don’t know, do I? Just tell me.’

‘Sir Rupert Chalfont.’

‘Rupert?’ Annette was stunned. ‘But why would he write to me?’

‘Because you wrote to him?’

‘But that was ages ago. I was so angry with him that I wrote and told him Hélène was going to marry Simon Barnier. And I said I hoped the idea made him feel as sick as it made me.’

Pierre grinned. ‘Did you now?’ he said. ‘Well, I think you got your wish.’

‘Good,’ said Annette viciously.

‘Anyway, you must read what he says. After all, although it was addressed to me on the envelope, the letter is actually for you, and so I’ve brought it with me.’

‘Have you read it?’

‘Yes, because I’d opened it and couldn’t not!’

‘I wonder why he sent it to you,’ mused Annette.

‘To make sure you actually got it, I should think,’ Pierre said as he handed it over. ‘He assumed that you were both living at Gavrineau by now. You’ll see why when you read it.’

Annette unfolded it.

Dear Annette

I am sorry I haven’t replied to your letter before now. Things have been very difficult here ever since I came home from France. We have had three deaths in the family – my brother’s, which you knew about, my father’s and my wife’s. But these are excuses. I could have replied sooner but I didn’t know what to say.