The tall man met her gaze and smiled, bending down to lightly kiss her on the cheeks. ‘Lotts, how are you, you exquisite creature? It’s been too long. You said you’d visit in Klosters.’

‘I know, but I didn’t get there at all in the end. An emergency at work.’

‘Sorry – you know each other?’ Milton asked, sounding incredulous.

‘Oh, we’re forever bumping into each other at this and that, aren’t we, Lotts?’ Lord Finch asked, just as her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen. ‘I’m afraid I need to take this. A call I’ve been expecting,’ she smiled apologetically, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss him goodbye again. ‘Let’s have lunch in August. Will you be in Positano?’

‘Darling, does the pope shit in the woods?’

Charlotte laughed. ‘You’re outrageous! I’ll call you.’ And she turned and left, catching sight of Milton’s dumbstruck expression on her way out.

‘I’ll keep you posted!’ Milton called after her as she headed down the corridor.

She raised an arm in acknowledgement as she connected the call. ‘Rosie?’

‘Hi, Charlotte,’ her PA’s voice replied. ‘Good time to speak?’

‘Absolutely.’ She walked down to the lifts and pressed the button, staring out of the plate-glass windows that gave over London. ‘I’m just leaving Steed now. They need me to go to Madrid tomorrow. Can you reschedule my appointments and get me on the first flight out in the morning?’

‘Sure. Hey, Madrid, lucky you – you can top up your tan before the wedding.’

‘Oh yes, lucky me,’ Charlotte replied drolly.

‘You don’t sound too enthused.’

‘You aren’t the one who’s got to tell my mother I can’t make the final dress fitting tomorrow night.’

‘Ah.’ Rosie was very well acquainted with her mother. ‘Well, does that matter? They’ve got your measurements.’

Charlotte missed a beat. ‘Yeah. It’s just a couture dress, you’re right. They can wing it.’

Rosie chuckled, also very well acquainted with Charlotte’s dry sense of humour. ‘Well at least you can take your foot off the gas for a bit while you’re out there. A bit of distance from all the wedding prep might help you to relax.’

‘Are you saying I’m uptight, Rosie?’

‘I’m saying you’re getting married next week and you’ve not had a hen party, a lunch, not even a hair appointment. You’re only taking a few days for the honeymoon—’

‘Because we’re both frantic at the moment. We can take one later when things have calmed down a bit. Has he called, by the way?’

‘Not yet. Do you want me to try him?’

‘No. No, it’s fine. I’ll catch him later.’ She and Stephen never spoke much in the day – one of them was invariably in a meeting – but she was looking forward to a quiet night in with him tonight. Even if she hadn’t had to go to Madrid tomorrow, they’d been on a carousel of parties lately, everyone urgently getting together for last hurrahs in the capital before they split for the coasts of Provence, Formentera and Esmeraldas, where they would reconvene to do it all again. She could think of nothing nicer than a rhubarb gin and tonic, a foot rub and an evening on the sofa wearing his pyjamas. ‘I’m on my way back now but can you ping me Lucy Santos’s file? You remember, Roberto Santos’s wife.’