‘I beg your pardon?’ The young Englishman had thought she was asleep and was watching Hélène, learning the turn of her head, the tilt of her chin, the way her smile lit her face, but hearing the old lady speak, he immediately returned his attention to her.

‘We had nothing like this when I was married,’ she remarked, looking up at him with gleaming eyes. ‘All a bit vulgar, do you think?’

Rupert considered. ‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ he said at last. ‘Surely as long as everyone is enjoying themselves. The bride and groom look happy enough.’

‘So they should.’ The old lady sat back in her chair. ‘But I’m getting tired. I shall go home now.’

‘Shall I call for your maid, madame?’ suggested Rupert, beginning to get to his feet.

‘No,’ replied Madame Barrineau firmly. ‘You can push me. We can call my carriage when we get back into the house.’

Rupert looked surprised at this suggestion, but immediately stood and reached for the handles of her chair, which was a simple armchair that had been attached to a set of wheels. The wheels were small, made of wood and shod with iron, and once he had turned her away from the table he found it quite a struggle to push her across the compressed lawn on which the pavilion had been erected. As they made slow progress towards the entrance, Louis Barrineau suddenly realised what was happening and hurried over to them.

‘My dear fellow,’ he cried, laying a hand on Rupert’s arm. ‘There’s no need for you to be pushing my mother, no need at all. I’ll call a servant.’

‘Don’t fuss, Louis,’ his mother replied briskly. ‘Monsieur Chalfont has no objection to pushing me out of the tent in this damnable contraption.’

‘Mother! Please!’ Louis Barrineau hissed. ‘Your language!’

‘It’s what it is,’ she insisted, ‘but since I have to sit in it, I prefer to be pushed by a handsome young man.’

Rupert made no contribution to this conversation, deeming it to be a family matter, but he smiled inwardly as the old lady took her fussing son to task. His attention was reclaimed when Madame Barrineau said, ‘You don’t mind, do you, Monsieur Chalfont?’

Rupert had no idea if she were referring to her language or to using him as a servant, but he inclined his head and murmured, ‘Not at all, madame.’

For a moment Louis looked perplexed, then he shrugged and said, ‘Very good of you, Chalfont. Grateful. I can see my mother is very tired. If you can get her into the house there’ll be plenty of servants there to help her to her carriage.’ He glanced round the pavilion, where some waiters were clearing plates from tables while others appeared with yet more trays of food. ‘These chaps are no good, they’re simply men hired for the day.’

‘Certainly, sir,’ Rupert replied. ‘I’m happy to help.’

He heard a chuckle as they moved out of the pavilion and followed the path into the house. ‘You really are a charmer, aren’t you?’ she said.