About a mile beyond the village, they came to two huge stone gateposts, topped with stone eagles. Lucien turned the chaise in through wrought-iron gates and along a winding drive that opened into a turning circle in front of an imposing chateau – for, thought Rupert, who was impressed despite himself, it could hardly be regarded as anything else. His friend Lucas had let it be known while he was staying in London that his family were landowners, but Rupert had had no inkling of quite how impressive Montmichel would be. Built in mellow golden stone, with a slate mansard roof, its façade stood three storeys high, above which, set in the steepness of the roof, were the tiny windows of the servants’ quarters. Tall casement windows topped with decorated pediments opened off the ground floor, and above, a similar row of windows, each flanked with painted wooden shutters, looked out across the garden to the orchards and vineyards of the estate. It was a house that demanded attention, built to display its owners’ wealth and position in society. As he looked at its magnificence Rupert wondered, with a grin, if Lucas had any sisters. He got down from the chaise and waited for Lucien to bring his valise before approaching the imposing front door.

As he raised his hand to sound the brass bell, the door swung open and he was greeted by an unsmiling butler who said, ‘Good afternoon, Monsieur Chalfont, I am Gaspard. Welcome to Montmichel.’ He stood aside to let Rupert into a wide expanse of marble-floored hall. Doors opened in several directions and a graceful staircase with a carved banister curved up to the first floor.

‘Aristide will take your luggage, monsieur,’ said Gaspard as a footman appeared from a passageway. ‘Will your man be arriving later?’

‘I’m afraid not, Gaspard,’ Rupert answered in fluent French. ‘My man Parker has been detained in England.’

‘I see, sir.’ Gaspard’s tone was studiously neutral. ‘But that is of no consequence. If it is convenient, Aristide will take care of all your requirements while you are staying with us.’

‘Thank you, Gaspard.’ Rupert suppressed a smile. ‘That would be most convenient.’

Aristide disappeared to collect Rupert’s luggage from the chaise and the butler said, ‘Please come this way, Monsieur Chalfont; Madame Barrineau is expecting you.’

Rupert followed Gaspard into a large, sunlit drawing room, where Suzanne Barrineau was seated in an armchair by the window, an embroidery frame in her hand. As Gaspard announced Rupert, she laid aside her stitchery and, getting to her feet, held out her hand.

‘Monsieur Chalfont, we are very pleased that you found yourself able to come to Lucas’s wedding,’ she said, ‘even at such short notice.’

‘You are more than kind to invite me, madame,’ he replied, raising her extended hand to his lips and thinking… even if you didn’t.

‘Any friend of Lucas’s is, of course, a welcome guest. I regret that he is at Belair, the home of his bride, just now, but he will be back for dinner, when the rest of our family will have the pleasure of meeting you.’ She glanced out of the window and added as she waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the garden, ‘I’m afraid I have duties that require my attention now, but Lucas will be home well before dinner to greet you.’ She turned back to him and went on, ‘I’m sure you are tired after your journey, monsieur, so should you require any refreshment in the meantime, please don’t hesitate to ring and Gaspard will bring it to your room.’