I glanced at Rupert, and he gave me an apologetic shrug. The sly bastard. Holding a dinner party for me to make friends whilst secretly hoping they might tempt me to move out here was mild enough a machination. But to put my future out to tender, knowing I’d hate people discussing it? I could only presume he’d taken a gamble that my fury would be outweighed by the persuasive abilities of the gathered company, but I didn’t like being ganged up on, even if Rupert thought it was in a good cause – his.

Sophie caught my hand under the table. ‘Are you okay?’ she whispered.

I turned to her. ‘How long do they give you for murder over here?’

She shook her head and smiled. ‘You wouldn’t joke if you weren’t okay.’

I grunted. ‘Who said I was joking?’

As I looked back at the group, I caught Alain’s eye. Besides Martine, who I suspected was quiet because her English wasn’t as good as her husband’s, Alain was the only person who hadn’t yet joined in the debate. Gazing briefly into those caramel-brown eyes of his, I saw sympathy for what Rupert had put me through – but I could glean no idea as to whether he agreed with the others, despite the fact that as an accountant, I would have thought he was one of the best-placed there to have an opinion. He cast me a half-smile, and for a brief moment I found myself wondering how his lips would feel on mine – until I reminded myself I’d sworn off accountants for good.

I was relieved we’d found the opportunity to apologise to each other. My conscience felt so much lighter. Alain was clearly a good bloke who cared very much about Rupert. He was also a bloke who wasn’t above apologising – something very much in his favour. And of course, that smile was always going to be a bonus.

In a change of subject for which I was thankful – and which made me wonder if she was kindlier than my first impression of her, and was deliberately getting me off the hook from Rupert’s bullying tactics – Ellie launched into a tirade against a seller who wanted them to market his house at a preposterous sum despite its many defects, which she listed with steel-sharp humour.

‘Rising damp in the walls,’ she told us. ‘Electrics that must have been installed just after Edison discovered the lightbulb. A kitchen from the nineteen-fifties if we’re being generous, and a bathroom in that hideous eighties avocado that makes you want to vomit.’ She shuddered. ‘All of which would be fine if he wanted to market the house accordingly – a house that needs substantial modernisation, if not demolition. But no. What had he done, Philippe?’

Philippe laughed. ‘He had every wall in the house painted magnolia. Every single wall. And because of this, he claimed the house had been modernised and wanted a top price for it!’

Everyone laughed – although it took another glass of wine and dessert before I began to relax. It was hard not to be moved by Rupert’s air-light mini lemon mousses and crumbling sweet pastries filled with chocolate ganache. By the time coffee was served – full strength, none of that British decaf-because-it’s-practically-bedtime malarkey – I’d almost forgiven him his blundering methods. In fact, as I sat nursing my cup, what I predominantly felt for him was envy.

His kitchen was filled with fragrant smells and animated chatter and happy faces. It was well after eleven o’clock midweek, and yet there was no sign of anyone rushing off home. As I looked around, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that every single person sitting at the table was here because they wanted to be. I couldn’t remember the last time Nathan and I had had anyone other than our parents to dinner.

Jonathan was eliciting sympathy from Sophie by lamenting the size of his pension, while Rupert told Philippe and Martine about the delightful English practices of gazumping and backing out of house sales days before exchanging contracts.

Alain turned to Ellie. ‘I can’t stand that kind of thing. There comes a point when business shouldn’t be allowed to come before common decency and people’s wellbeing.’

I raised an eyebrow. An accountant who didn’t put business and figures first. An accountant who cared about his friends and enjoyed their company. One with soft brown eyes and a sexy smile, whose hint of an accent definitely lent him an edge of Gallic sex appeal. Hmmm...

‘Emmy, did Rupert ever tell you about the time one of my suitors hit on him?’ Jonathan pulled me out of my reverie, and as I turned wide eyes on him and everyone laughed good-naturedly at my reaction, I felt warm at the sound.

These people had taken me as they found me and had no preconceived notions, other than that I had been a good friend to Rupert. To them, I was just Emmy. Not Nathan’s Emmy, Nathan’s girlfriend, Emmy from work, Nick’s sister, Flo and Dennis’s daughter. Just Emmy. And I liked it just fine.

It was well after midnight before anyone began to make a move, and I couldn’t stop yawning.

Sophie laughed as she kissed me goodnight. ‘You British, always in your beds so early.’

I grinned, then suddenly remembered the present I’d bought for her yesterday. ‘Wait there,’ I told her as I shot off to fetch it from my room.

‘What is this for?’ she asked as I handed her the gift-wrapped package.

‘To say thank you for being so kind to me last week.’

She unwrapped it, took the cork out of the bottle and sniffed. ‘Perfect! There was no need, but thank you. I love it.’ Another kiss. ‘I’m very busy at the salon this week, not even time for lunch, but I would like to see you again before you go – just the two of us. Can you meet me for a quick coffee tomorrow?’

‘I can’t think why not. What time?’

‘Twelve-thirty again?’

‘Perfect. Thanks for coming tonight.’

‘Thank you for inviting me.’ She winked. ‘Now I can picture all your stories perfectly.’

Alain and Jonathan were the last to go because Jonathan insisted on helping Rupert clear the table. Between Jonathan, who needed his stick all the time, and Rupert, who was not using his tonight so his limp was back in full force, they were like a comical duo from a convalescent home. In order to speed up the process, Alain and I chipped in, but we all kept bumping into one another. When the bulk of it was done, I stood out of the way at the door with Alain while Rupert packed up leftovers for Jonathan, messing about with plastic containers.

I shook my head. ‘They’re like two old women,’ I said, stifling another yawn.

Alain smiled. ‘You look tired.’

‘Not been sleeping well.’

‘That’s hardly surprising.’ He hesitated. ‘Are you doing anything tomorrow night?’

Startled, I looked up at him. ‘No, I don’t think so. The next guest meal is Thursday. Why?’

‘I... wondered if you’d like to go out for dinner.’

‘Oh! I – er – well.’

I glanced across at Rupert, who was suddenly terribly busy putting all the plastic boxes in carrier bags for Jonathan. Meddling old sod. Still, accepting would be a way to make up for my rudeness yesterday, a chance to reassure myself that I was leaving Rupert in good hands... And yes, the hypnotic effect of Alain’s gaze might have had something to do with it.

‘I’d love to. Thank you.’

Alain smiled. ‘I’ll pick you up around seven, then. Au revoir.’

I felt a frisson of... something... at the sound of him speaking French.

He took Jonathan’s carriers from Rupert, helped the old man out to the car and waved as they drove off.

‘Do I detect a date in the offing, lovely Emmy?’ Rupert asked as I closed the door.

‘Date, no. Dinner, yes.’

‘Same thing, isn’t it?’ His eyes were full of victory. I could have slapped him sometimes.

Sophie was just finishing with a customer when I arrived the following day. We went to the café across the square, and since there was a threat of drizzle in the air, we chose a table inside at the window and ordered coffee.

‘So, did you enjoy the dinner party last night?’ she asked, her dimple flashing.

I narrowed my eyes. ‘Yes and no. Yes, because it was lovely food and nice people. And no, because Rupert has no qualms about crossing boundaries.’

Sophie thanked the waiter as he placed our coffees on the table. ‘You didn’t like him telling everyone about his plans for you?’

‘No, I didn’t. He’d only asked me the night before. And we’d both been drinking. I’d barely had time to absorb it all.’

‘Perhaps he wanted to push...’ Her pretty brow crinkled up as she thought. ‘There is an expression...’

‘Push home his advantage?’

‘That’s it!’

‘Well, he can push all he likes. He went too far.’

‘Hmm. I can sense that you are tempted, though.’ There was a mischievous gleam in her eye.

I harrumphed. ‘I don’t know about tempted. More that now the idea’s lodged in a corner of my brain, I can’t make it go away.’

Sophie nodded. ‘There is much to consider. A lot of it depends on Rupert – because he is who you would work for and live with. But you have to think about what you would leave behind in England, too, and how much you would miss it.’

‘Yes, well, I won’t know about that until I go back, will I? I would have said I’d miss it all very much – but that was before, when things were good with Nathan.’

‘But now Nathan will not be keeping you in England.’

‘No, but my family and friends are there. My job.’

‘And how do you feel about leaving Rupert on Saturday? La Cour des Roses?’

‘I...’ My voice hitched.

‘What? Tell me.’

‘Sophie, I know this sounds stupid – but La Cour des Roses already feels like home to me.’

‘No, not stupid. Some places... They become a part of us, n’est-ce pas? In here.’ She placed a hand over her heart. ‘Maybe for you it should be called Le Coeur des Roses – the heart of roses!’ She smiled. ‘Well, only you can decide. But if you do come back, remember you already have friends here. Me and Rupert, at least!’

‘How is it that you have your own salon?’ I asked, anxious to change the subject. ‘You must be quite young, surely?’

‘Twenty-nine,’ Sophie told me. ‘I started the salon just one year ago. I always wanted my own business. The rent is not expensive and I only employ the young girl you saw there. It does not make me rich, but I like being my own boss.’

‘Don’t you worry about financial security?’

Sophie shook her head. ‘I make enough to buy what I need. I do not expect to make a fortune.’ She finished her coffee. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t have time for lunch. Will you eat something back at La Cour des Roses?’

‘Yes. Maybe just a salad.’

‘You are not on a diet, I hope?’ she asked with disdain.

‘No. But I am out for dinner tonight.’

‘Oh? With Rupert?’

I blushed. ‘No, actually, I – er – it’s...’

Sophie gave a little squeal of delight. ‘You have a date?’

‘Well...’

‘Tell me!’

‘It’s all Rupert’s fault, trying to set me up with someone so I’ll be tempted to come back,’ I said grumpily. ‘I shouldn’t have accepted the invitation yesterday after the dinner party. But I was tired and I didn’t want to reject him in front of Jonathan and Rupert...’

‘Someone at the dinner party?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Alain?’

When I nodded, she grinned. ‘Mmm. Very handsome. Rupert has made a good choice for you. A lot of women would like to go out with Alain, you know.’

That didn’t surprise me. ‘Really? Did you...?’

Sophie laughed and patted my hand. ‘Don’t worry. I like him, but he is not my type.’

‘Oh? What is your type?’ I asked her, desperate to deflect her from my dinner date.

‘I like men who work with their hands – men with muscles,’ she confessed with a comically dreamy look on her face.

A vision of Alain striding across the courtyard at La Cour des Roses leapt into my brain. He didn’t look like the weightlifting kind, but he was tall and tanned and he looked pretty fit to me...

I mentally shook myself and laughed at my companion’s expression. ‘Oh? Are there many of those around here, Sophie?’

On the way back, I called at the supermarket. Since spotting the gift stall with the pretty glass bottles at the market on Monday, I’d had neither the time nor inclination to follow through on it, and I wanted to see if I could buy the goods I wanted here before I messed about ordering anything online.

My luck was doubly in. Not only did they sell economy-sized bottles of lovely, natural-looking products, but the household section also sold plain but pleasingly-shaped glass bottles with screw tops – although I was hoping to replace those with corks. Adding pretty-bordered sticky labels from the stationery section to the trolley, I headed for the checkout with another niggle checked off my to-do list.

By the time Rupert wandered into the kitchen after his rest, the table was covered in bottles filled with pastel-coloured bath crystals and oil, shampoo and conditioner, all neatly labelled and divided into groups, one for each room or gîte.

‘You’ve been busy!’ He frowned. ‘How much has that little lot cost me?’

I handed him the receipt. ‘Less than all those fiddly sachets, I suspect. And you’re doing the environment a favour. And you can’t put a price on class. The bottles to refill with are in the broom cupboard in the hall in a plastic box. This lot will have to go in there too, for now. Each time you have a room or a gîte changeover, make sure you start with the new regime.’

‘Yes, Miss.’ Rupert glanced at the receipt, then added it to the others he owed me from my various shopping trips. ‘Don’t you dare let me forget to write you a cheque before you go.’

I thought about my credit card bill and winced. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t.’

He glanced at the clock. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your date with Alain?’

‘Rupert, it’s only five o’clock. How long do you think it takes me to get dressed?’

‘I know you women. There are baths to be had, hair to be washed and dried and brushed. Accessories to be chosen.’

‘Rupert, I’m going out for dinner, not taking part in a dog show!’

Even so, I scurried up to my room pretty sharpish.

Glancing at my phone on the bedside table, it occurred to me that Kate was due back from the Maldives today. I switched it on long enough to text her to let her know I’d stayed an extra week, but not to worry. She texted back to say she was pleased I’d extended my holiday and expected full details upon my return.

I took my time in the shower, smoothed on body butter, dried my hair, then opened the wardrobe and flicked through its contents. Hmmm. Good moral form prevented me from wearing the blue dress I’d worn for my dinner with Ryan. I’d been flirty with him, and I didn’t want to be that way with Alain. He might be a handsome half-Frenchman, and I might be on the verge of forgiving him for being an accountant, but flirting might lead to complications and entanglements I would do well to avoid. I was going home on Saturday. All I wanted from the evening was to reiterate my apology for my behaviour and ensure he would look out for Rupert to my satisfaction.

I changed three times before I settled on navy linen trousers and a matching cotton shirt.

Alain called for me at seven as promised, and we drove into Pierre-la-Fontaine.

As he clambered out of his car, I asked the question I’d had in the back of my mind ever since I first saw him arrive at La Cour des Roses.

‘Why do you have such a small car? I mean, you’re a tall bloke. It’s like trying to fit a mackerel into a sardine tin!’

He laughed – a natural, warm laugh that rolled over me and made me feel a little fuzzy. ‘I think it must be the half-Englishman in me. I hate parking, but the French don’t mind how close they get to your bumpers. Since I visit quite a few of my clients in local towns, I tend to feel more comfortable in a smaller, nippier car.’

I shook my head. ‘You’ll give yourself a hernia twisting in and out of it like that.’

Smiling, he led me down the street to the restaurant he’d chosen. The tables were separated by trellises wound with silk roses – a twee touch, but it lent an element of romance... And privacy.

The waiter handed us menus, and Alain surprised me by taking glasses from his pocket and slipping them on. As I surreptitiously studied him studying the menu over the top of my menu, I decided they only made him more attractive in that I’m-an-academic-so-I-need-someone-to-look-after-me sort of way that some men convey.

He helped me translate and once we’d ordered, we settled into comfortable chatter. With our mutual apology behind us, it was easy to relax in each other’s company.

I mmm’d over my starter of warm goat’s cheese salad. Remembering the sample I’d tried at the cheese stall, I’d turned my nose up at the idea as I’d studied the menu, but Alain had promised me it would be mild, creamy and delicious, and he was right.

‘Is it good, after all?’ he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

‘Gorgeous!’

‘So. How do you feel about going home this weekend?’

‘I can’t say I’m looking forward to all the explanations and gossip,’ I admitted. ‘But it’ll be good to get back into a routine.’

‘How did you get into marketing? Was it something you always wanted to do?’

‘Ha! Not really.’ He raised his eyebrows in surprise, and I laughed. ‘When I was at school and everyone was choosing university courses, they all seemed to know exactly what they wanted to do, but all I could think was, “Shit, I haven’t a clue what to pick.” I liked most of my subjects, but I didn’t have a favourite. The careers teacher suggested business studies because at least it might lead to a good job. So that’s what I did.’

‘Did you enjoy your course?’

I finished my starter and took a sip of my water, swilling it surreptitiously round my mouth in case I had bits of salad leaves stuck between my teeth.

‘Yes and no. To be honest, I found the economics a bit of a mystery. Too much maths.’ I made a face. ‘And I guess I’m admitting that to the wrong person.’

Alain smiled. ‘I loved maths. And economics.’ He winked. ‘But each to his own.’

‘Hmm. Well, I muddled through those bits, but luckily I discovered I had a flair for other aspects of the course. I got a placement at a marketing agency in my third year, and they offered me a job when I finished my degree. I’ve been there ever since, and I’m assistant manager now. It’s manic and I work long hours, but I enjoy it.’

‘Do you have any plans for the next step? Manager or director?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Unfortunately, that would involve putting arsenic in my boss’s tea. He’s there for the duration. And as much as Carl is a self-serving idiot with a penchant for stealing the credit, I don’t think he deserves that.’

‘So if you wanted a promotion, you’d have to move?’

I nodded. ‘Probably. It’s been on my mind for the last year or two. But it might involve moving towns, let alone companies, so I never considered it seriously because of Nathan.’ I dropped my head in my hands. ‘Oh God, I don’t even want to think about going back to work. Seeing Nathan there every day.’

‘It will be awkward for him, too,’ Alain pointed out. ‘I certainly hope so, anyway – he deserves it. At least now you’ll be able to think about what you really want to do, where you want to go, without taking him into consideration.’

The waiter arrived with our main courses. I took a taste of tender steak in a mouth-watering mushroom and red wine sauce, and managed not to moan out loud with pleasure.

‘Of course, now you have an extra option to consider.’ Alain looked across and held my gaze.

I rolled my eyes. ‘I really don’t think that’s under serious consideration at the moment.’

He seemed about to say something, then stopped and just nodded.

‘I am worried about Rupert, though. When I go back, I mean. We’re sorting some help out, but I’m not sure he can cope on his own.’

Alain smiled warmly at me. It was a heart-melting smile, and my pulse pepped up the pace a little.

‘Don’t worry too much, Emmy. He has plenty of friends to watch out for him. People are inordinately fond of Rupert, for some reason. Gloria, on the other hand, was not overly popular. Many of Rupert’s friends and acquaintances merely tolerated her for his sake.’

I nodded. I’d suspected as much. ‘I wasn’t sure how to take him myself at first, but he grows on you in an irritating sort of way. Nathan didn’t take to him at all. Then again, I didn’t take to Gloria, but Nathan obviously did.’

Alain closed his hand briefly over mine. When he took it back, I felt a little bereft. I’d enjoyed that brief touch of his palm covering my fingers. ‘If it’s any consolation, I think you’re the better judge of character.’

‘If I was any judge of character, I wouldn’t have moved in with the boring, cheating bastard in the first place!’ I quipped, then immediately kicked myself. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be. You’re entitled. I felt much the same way when my wife left me.’