He shrugged. 'If I am, I just drive myself home. Now, what do you want to eat?'

‘Pâté and steak and chips,' said Elsa decisively. She usually took hours to make up her mind.

‘You must leave room for pudding. The chef trained in Vienna and his tortes are amazing.'

‘My mother went to Vienna once with some friends. She learnt to make apple strudel. So come on, tell me, what's this favour?’

Laurence gave her a considering look as if weighing up waiting until the food had been eaten before asking it, or going straight for it. 'OK. I want you to be my partner at a very swish ball.'

‘Do you?' Elsa was stunned. She'd expected him to ask her to make a dress, or alter something, or even take up his jeans. 'Why?'

‘Because you're very good company and I'd like to take you. And' – his smile was definitely rueful – 'it's being run by someone who is always producing women for me. I'd really like to bring my own this time.'

‘That dress wasn't mine, you know,' said Elsa quickly, in case he thought she looked like that on a regular basis, with her hair and make-up done and a fabulous dress on. 'I've given it back. I haven't got a ball dress of my own.’

He dismissed this concern with a shake of the head. 'That doesn't matter. It's a costume ball.'

‘A costume ball?' Elsa was intrigued.

‘Yes, only it's not just dressing up. We all have to be in Regency dress.'

‘Oh my goodness.' Would that involve quite a tricky corset? She managed not to share this thought with him.

Laurence laughed, seeing the way her mind was going. 'But really, you don't have to make your dress. You can hire one. In fact, I can hire both our costumes.’

He was obviously completely unaware of the enormity of his suggestion. She struggled to find the words that would convey her dismay at this idea. 'Asking a dressmaker to hire a dress from goodness knows where is like asking…' She paused, struggling for a metaphor. 'I don't know, asking a top chef to stop by for a hamburger and fries.’

Laurence appeared to consider this. 'I think most chefs would be prepared to do that, if pushed.’

Elsa tutted. 'Well, I'm not prepared to hire a musty old curtain that smells of sweat and is historically incorrect!’

He seemed a little dashed by this. 'Does that mean you won't come with me?’

It suddenly occurred to Elsa how churlish she had sounded. She'd been invited to a lovely occasion and all she'd done was moan. She had no idea what sort of hire place he had in mind and the costumes might be of the very finest, in authentic fabrics and every last detail attended to. Her mother would be appalled. 'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. What must you think of me?’

Again Laurence was thoughtful. 'I think you're a very busy woman and the thought of taking time and trouble to make a dress for yourself isn't on the cards just now.’

Elsa bit her lip and nodded. That was it exactly.

‘It isn't for another month, if that helps. I knew it was a big ask,' he said quietly. 'Maybe I should take you out to dinner several times to make up for it?’

Elsa was still silent. Part of her wanted to go to the ball, very much; to be Cinderella, not just the fairy godmother with the wand who made the beautiful dress, only with a lot more effort than waving a foil-wrapped stick with a tinsel star sellotaped to the top. She'd had a taste of it at Ashlyn's wedding and rather enjoyed it. But the other part was very comfortable slicing through swathes of tulle with life-threateningly sharp scissors, taking in seams, adding bugle beads, keeping in the background. Who was she -really?

‘I do wish you'd say something,' said Laurence. 'I'm beginning to think I asked you to come to an orgy without realising I was speaking in code.'

‘I'm sorry.' Elsa sighed and smiled at the same time. 'I've been dreadfully rude. You ask me to a lovely party and I just fret about it taking up too much of my time.' Among other things, she added silently.

‘I hadn't taken into consideration your perfectly justifiable feelings about hiring a dress.' He put his head on one side. 'Is there anything I can do to make things better?'

‘You could ask someone else, someone who could actually dance, which you know perfectly well I can't do. After all, you must know plenty of other women. And they wouldn't make a big fuss about hiring a dress, either.'

‘But I asked you.' The corner of his mouth moved. 'Even knowing your limitations.’

She put her hand on his, trying to make up for her rudeness. 'But that's what I'm saying! You could have someone without limitations.'

‘I have a plan for your limitations. I'm going to arrange for you to have waltzing lessons, or at least one. Then you will be able to dance.'

‘But why not choose someone who can already?’

He laughed with exasperation. 'You're a very hard woman to ask out!’

Elsa looked aghast. 'No I'm not – I came here, didn't I? I'm just a hard woman – actually, I'm not a hard woman at all. I'm soft as soap…' Then, realising that she'd got mixed up and that soap was usually hard, she went on, 'Or something very soft – but I don't want you to have to go to all that trouble and expense when someone else would do.’

He looked at her in exasperation. 'No, they wouldn't do.' He spoke slowly as if to a small child intent on misunderstanding. 'I do know lots of women I could ask, but you are the one whom I have asked. It'll be fun; we'll have fun.'

‘Oh.' He did seem genuinely to want her to go.

He smiled to ease her moment of anxiety. 'It would be worth all the trouble and expense just to see my friend's face when I walk in with a beautiful woman – or as her boyfriend might put it, a bit of top totty. Please say you'll come.’

Elsa wasn't sure what to do. She did want to go, she realised. It was a very flattering invitation, and she liked Laurence, but did she have time to make something? As long as Carrie didn't suddenly make a decision she could. 'OK. I could probably make something for it if I can do it now, but the moment someone I'm doing a wedding dress for makes a decision, I'll have to drop everything. I've got a couple that need final fittings and finishing off as it is.' She paused. 'I work evenings too.' She regarded him under her new fringe, trying to look firm. 'And I will have a waltzing lesson. Only one though. I won't have time for more.’

Now he put his hand on hers. 'Thank you, Elsa. I'm really pleased.’

Elsa felt a slight tingle. He had nice hands and she rather liked the feel of it. Fortunately for her peace of mind, at that moment the waiter came to take their order. Elsa used the time she wasn't placing her order to get her head round the fact that a very nice man had asked her to a costume ball and that she was going to have waltzing lessons, just like an ingenue in a Georgette Heyer novel. The nice man also seemed quite keen on the idea. There was a lot to take in.

When the waiter had taken their orders and their menus Laurence said, 'So you'll definitely come?'

‘Yes, I will. And thank you very much for asking me.' After a pause she said, 'But you'll owe me, big time.’

He laughed and then became serious. 'Anything you ever ask me, I'll be happy to do for you.’

She smiled. He was reasonable looking, apparently comfortably off, and single. So what was wrong with him?

There must be something, or he wouldn't be asking her out.

‘What do you do for a living?' she asked. If he said

‘undertaker' she'd know.

‘Something in the City,' he said, smiling. 'If you're not careful, I'll tell you all about it.’

`No thanks, you're all right.' She smiled. He was all right.