For a moment Rupert was at a loss, his normal self-confidence deserting him as, almost ethereal in her pale silk, a wreath of flowers on her dark hair, she stood looking down at him.

Hélène’s well-bred manners came to their aid and she descended the last few stairs, saying, ‘How do you do? I don’t think we’ve been introduced. Are you a cousin of Lucas’s?’

Rupert pulled himself together and said, ‘No, a friend, from London.’

Hélène’s eyes widened. ‘You’re English?’

Rupert, suddenly returning to himself, gave her a lopsided grin. ‘Afraid so. Rupert Chalfont, at your service.’ He held out his hand, and when Hélène took it in hers and replied, ‘I’m Clarice’s sister, Hélène St Clair,’ he raised it to his lips and murmured, ‘Enchanté, mademoiselle.’

At that moment Didier came through the hall and stopped abruptly when he saw Hélène, her hand being kissed by one of the gentleman guests, whom he did not recognise and to whom she clearly had not been properly introduced. With disapproval in every line of his body, he said, ‘Miss Hélène, your mother is looking for you in the garden.’

‘Yes, I know, Didier, I’m just coming. Please excuse me, monsieur.’ And leaving Rupert standing in the hall, she hurried out into the garden.

‘Allow me to announce you to your hostess,’ Didier said stiffly. ‘She is in the garden now that she has already received her guests.’ He gave Rupert a chilly look, clearly wondering if this stranger was indeed one of the invited guests or some interloper who should be shown the door immediately.

‘Thank you, Didier.’ Rupert spoke loftily, very much the aristocrat. ‘I fear I was detained and have yet to meet my hostess.’

‘What name shall I announce… sir?’

‘Rupert Chalfont, the guest of Monsieur Lucas Barrineau.’

When they had reached the garden and the introduction had been made, Rosalie said, ‘It’s a pleasure to welcome you here, monsieur, on such a happy occasion. I understand that you have few acquaintances here, but I hope you will make yourself known to some of our other guests.’

Rupert smiled, his handsome face alight with pleasure. ‘Thank you, madame, you’re very kind.’

I don’t know what Suzanne was worried about, Rosalie thought as she watched him walk among her other guests, accepting a glass of wine from a waiter as he did so. He seems utterly charming.

When the guests were summoned into the pavilion for the wedding breakfast, Rupert found himself again seated with members of the Barrineau family. As before, he had Madame Beaumont on his left, but today on his right was an elderly lady who had been brought to the table in a bath chair. Suzanne accompanied her and said, ‘Monsieur Chalfont, allow me to introduce my mother-in-law, Madame Barrineau. Madame, this is Monsieur Rupert Chalfont, Lucas’s English friend.’

Once the old lady was settled in her seat, she raised her lorgnettes and, peering at Rupert with shrewd blue eyes, said rather disconcertingly, ‘Come looking for a French bride, have you?’