“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Josh said unexpectedly and she caught the briefest glimmer of something like admiration in his eyes before he poured out the wine.

She couldn’t help asking, “Do you normally have candlelit dinners with art handlers who stay in the chateau?”

He shook his head. “Art handlers never stay in the chateau. But I often have dinner in the folly, sometimes with the photographer—I usually stay the night when I come down each week and I like being outside.”

“Well, thank you for asking me to join you.”

“Like you said, you have to eat.”

Which meant the admiration she thought she’d seen must have been for the wine, which he was staring at intently, not her. He was so hard to read. She sat down and helped herself to the terrine. “Who cooks? How many Michelin stars do they have? And can I take them back to Australia with me?”

“Célie cooks. She doesn’t get to cook for guests very often so, when she does, she goes all out. She also looks after the house and the photographer’s needs. Célie’s husband is in charge of the grounds.”

“A true family affair. Are they related to the photographer?” The words came out before she had time to think. She held up her hand. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to pry. It was just the kind of question you might normally ask.”

D’Arcy sipped the wine and almost groaned again. It was so very good. A true feast for the senses, which must be why she was checking out Josh with one side of her brain, while the other side was telling her to behave. He was very good-looking, especially with candles flickering around him, offset by a garden so fecund she could almost hear the buds opening and new shoots pushing forth, and accompanied by a bottle of wine as full-bodied as a burlesque dancer, and paté so rustic and fresh that she wanted to eat it with her hands. Since when did D’Arcy behave anyway? Although she did like to be a little more sure that the other party was interested before she wasted time on flirting.

She dragged her eyes away from Josh’s face. Business, she told herself. For once, just stick to business. “Speaking of prying, how would you feel about me writing a piece on the chateau and its grounds for a newspaper in Australia?” she asked. “I’d be careful not to specify where it is so the photographer’s anonymity is safe, but I’m not sure how you feel about that kind of publicity. It might be a nice feature to have in the lead-up to the exhibition. As well as being a freelance art handler, I freelance for arts magazines and newspapers, mainly writing about the arts but, because I travel so much, I sometimes write travel pieces too.” It was quicker and easier than telling a story on film, she didn’t add, no matter that making a documentary was an infinitely more satisfying creative experience.