‘Certainly not, Monsieur Chalfont. I will not hear of it.’ She immediately rang for Aristide to order the chaise to be brought to the door. Rupert grinned inwardly as he considered the possible reasons for this rush of enthusiasm to get rid of him. Perhaps she wanted to be sure he was off the premises and not coming back. If that were the case she was out of luck, as her mother-in-law had already invited him to call again. Or maybe it was the relief of knowing he was no longer under the same roof as Lucie, or maybe she had already counted the spoons!

‘Do you plan to remain in the area for long, Monsieur Chalfont?’ Louis had asked him as they walked out to the waiting chaise.

‘For some time yet, I think,’ Rupert answered. ‘I have telegraphed my man, Parker, who is at home on a family matter, and he will come to meet me at St Etienne before I travel further afield.’

‘Capital,’ cried Louis. ‘You must come to dinner again before you leave. I know Lucas and Clarice will be away on their wedding journey for several weeks, but Suzanne and Lucie and I will look forward to welcoming you back.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Rupert said with a smile as he wondered what Suzanne would think of the invitation, ‘you’re all more than kind.’

The room at Le Coq d’Argent was large and pleasantly appointed, with a dressing room off it and an indoor bathroom a little further down the corridor. It boasted a comfortable saloon downstairs as well as a dining room and a taproom for the local men. Rupert found that Aristide had been as good as his word and had unpacked and hung up most of Rupert’s clothes. A few, needing the attentions of a laundress, he had set aside to be brushed or washed and then returned.

Rupert crossed to the window that looked out over the lane at the back of the inn. It was a narrow street, bounded by the high walls of the inn’s yard below him and a line of cottages along the far side. Not a particularly interesting view, he thought, but perhaps quieter than one of the front rooms that looked out onto the bustle of the village square.

He was about to turn away when a movement below caught his eye. Someone was entering the lane, moving furtively along the wall beneath his window. It was a woman with a cloak thrown over her shoulders, its hood shading her hair and face. He stared down, intrigued, and watched as she edged along the lane. Why on earth was she wearing such a heavy cloak on such a hot day? It was only just after noon and the sun was splitting stones. Whoever it was must have been trying to hide her identity.

And yet, Rupert thought, by wearing such unusual clothes on this hot summer’s day she was more likely to draw attention to herself.