‘Well that is a shame. I had been hoping we might mix a little business with our pleasure and regroup on things before the big day.’

‘First thing tomorrow?’ she asked hopefully, standing up with a wobble.

Mateo saw how her leg was still held awkwardly off the floor and immediately, gallantly, relented. ‘Of course.’

‘Thank you for a lovely evening. Goodnight,’ she said, her gaze coming to rest on Nathan, but he was busying himself with pouring the last of the red into his glass. He had drunk a lot over dinner, matching Mateo easily, who seemed to appreciate having an equally thirsty guest.

She began hobbling and hopping over the floor, aware she had an audience.

‘My dear,’ Mateo tutted to her back as she reached the door. ‘How on earth are you going to walk down the aisle in three days’ time like that?’

‘Oh, it’s . . .’ She couldn’t even finish the lie.

‘More to the point, how on earth are you going to get up the stairs tonight?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said quickly. ‘I have a system: bottom shuffling. Not elegant. Very effective.’

‘Nonsense. You’ll ruin that beautiful dress of yours. I’ll ask for some of the carers to carry you.’

‘Please don’t. I hate a fuss,’ she said quickly. ‘And I’ll be up in half the time it’d take them to get here anyway.’

‘But . . .’ Mateo looked floundered by her refusal. ‘Nathan, talk some sense into her, please. Dior silk was not designed for sweeping floors.’ He looked suddenly at his dining companion. ‘Or of course, you could do the honours—’

‘No, no,’ Charlotte said firmly. ‘He couldn’t possibly—’

‘Nonsense, he’s twice your size. He’ll barely know he’s lifting you; isn’t that so, professor? We can hardly leave a damsel in distress.’

There was an expectant pause.

‘Yes. Quite,’ Nathan muttered, setting down his napkin and scraping his chair back.

Mateo rose too. ‘And then you can join me afterwards in the library for that drink.’

‘Of course.’

The two men crossed the room and Charlotte began limping ahead as fast as she could, trying to get to the stairs first.

‘I don’t know. Modern women,’ Mateo said, seeming amused as they reached her on the second step. ‘They simply will not accept help.’

‘Mmm.’ Nathan stood before her, staring down with that inscrutable expression that was his speciality. Without another word, he scooped her up. She felt a blush of embarrassment and mortification as he began walking easily, carrying her as if she were a tray, his eyes dead ahead.

‘As I said. Very good,’ Mateo nodded, approvingly. ‘The library’s down here, professor. Second door on the right.’

‘Really, I’m fine,’ she murmured in a low voice as soon as Mateo turned away and began striding down the corridor. ‘Please, you can put me down now. This isn’t necessary. I’m quite capable—’

‘Actually, I’m not sure you are capable,’ he said tightly as he climbed the staircase without any apparent effort. ‘You stood in front of a charging bull this afternoon, remember?’