She followed Hugo into a building that seemed pitch dark after the brightness of the day. The flagged floor was uneven and ancient, beams threatened Hugo's head, and there seemed to be dozens of little rooms. She stood behind him at the bar.

‘Hi, Hugo, mate!' said the barman, who was young and Australian. 'Got your table. It's through in the snug.' As Sarah followed him again she realised he must have booked the table before she'd decided what she wanted to do. Had he successfully second-guessed her? Or was he just thoughtfully making sure he could accommodate her decision? There was definitely a lot more to Hugo than she'd ever suspected.

‘So, Pimm's or champagne cocktail? They do both very well.'

‘Don't I get the chance of half a lager or cider? Or even a glass of wine?'

‘Nope. Make up your mind.’

Sarah, who had heard herself described as bossy, found being bossed strangely relaxing. No wonder people didn't mind when she told them what to do – it saved so much energy not having to make decisions. 'Champagne cocktail then.’

While he was getting drinks Sarah checked out the other customers. They were predominately middle-class, County, and wealthy. By the bar, however, there was a phalanx of locals, in shirtsleeves, worn corduroys or denim jeans and the occasional flat cap. Perhaps they were paid by the management to make the place look like a proper pub. Then she sighed in self-reproach. Why was she making snippy mental comments about the place? She knew it was because Hugo was well known here and she had made a lot of snippy comments to herself about him over the couple of years she'd known him. A moment of reflection made her wonder if it was because she had been secretly drawn to him even before the kiss and it was in self-defence, but she dismissed the idea rapidly. She really couldn't afford to go there.

He came back with a tray with two glasses on it and two menus tucked under his arm. One of the glasses was a traditional conical champagne glass, of the kind popular before flutes became the fashion. The other was a pint glass filled with a cloudy grey liquid.

‘What's that?' asked Sarah, pointing to it, hoping she sounded brightly curious, not suspicious.

‘Ginger beer. It's very fiery – perfect if you need a drink but don't want to drink alcohol.'

‘Why do you need a drink?' Sarah was genuinely curious now.

‘Because you're a very daunting woman to be with unless you're very tired, and possibly a little drunk.' Sarah put down the glass she had been about to sip from. 'What? Me?'

‘Oh yes,' Hugo confirmed. 'On occasion, frankly terrifying.’

Sarah giggled. 'I don't believe you.’

Hugo raised his glass in a toast to her. 'Well, not completely terrifying. Anyway, here's to Somerby being the perfect venue, and here's to you: the best wedding planner in the world…' He stared into her eyes and Sarah's stomach lurched.

Feeling totally addled by a mixture of lust and terror, she raised her glass. 'To me,' she murmured and took a sip. Sarah was confused. She wasn't sure if she could resist Hugo for much longer and was starting to wonder whether it really would be such a bad idea to get involved with him. Aside from the fact that she was obviously attracted to him, he was easygoing, fun to be around, he seemed to respect her and despite the odd rumour she didn't really believe he was anything like her ex. But she'd made it perfectly clear she didn't want to go out with him. Part of her still felt this was the right decision, but the other half hoped he might ask her again. This time she might even say yes. Not that she'd ever dream of actually hinting as much to him. No, if it happened, it happened.

‘It's delicious,' she said as she set her glass down.

‘They do make them well here, as I said. Now, what about food?' He handed Sarah a menu. 'I can recommend the scallops. And considering we're so far inland, the fish is surprisingly good.’

As Sarah looked down the list she wished she was in an era when she could just hand the menu to her escort and ask him to order for her. 'The scallops do look nice,' she said. 'I'll have them.'

‘So will I. And shall we share a salad?’

When they'd dealt with the food order and Hugo had sat back down again Sarah said, 'So, tell me about your friends' house.'

‘You'll see it for yourself soon. Another cocktail?’

Sarah shook her head and found that it went on swinging internally, even after she'd stopped moving. 'Well, actually, a very large glass of water would be good.' A strong cocktail on an empty stomach hadn't been a very good idea, but being with Hugo somehow made her feel more decadent.

They chatted easily over lunch and Hugo even managed to persuade her to have syrup sponge and custard, with cream.

As they drove up to the house, Sarah admired the long drive (albeit in need of repair) that passed through parkland currently being grazed by small black cows. It was a proper country estate. She sat up a little straighter.

‘They're Dexters,' said Hugo, 'but don't ask me any more questions because I don't know the answers. They're smaller than ordinary cattle but that sums up my knowledge of them.'

‘I wasn't going to grill you on animal husbandry,' said Sarah, wonderfully relaxed after their lunch. Lily and Hugo were right, she did need to relax more often.

The house was enormous and beautiful and, as Hugo had said, dilapidated. Sarah instantly understood a couple falling in love with it. 'It looks like a project for one of those television programmes when the really impossible looking gets completed in twice the time allowed but with far less money than you'd think.’

Hugo laughed. 'They did get in touch with the television channel but it wasn't enough of a project for them.' He parked the car and, before he'd pulled on the handbrake, the front door opened and a young woman came out.

‘Hugo! Hi!' She was wearing jodhpurs, ancient muddy trainers and a polo shirt with a rip in the sleeve, all of which just seemed to enhance her model figure. Sarah wondered if she'd be quite so insouciant if she hadn't been so blatantly aristocratic. She flung her arms round Hugo's neck and kissed him. Then she smiled at Sarah – she might be posh but she was also friendly.

‘This is Sarah. Sarah, Fenella, although she prefers Fen. Fen, Sarah had a champagne cocktail for lunch so she's not quite the brisk professional she is usually. Though even with the edge taken off, she's quite something!'

‘Thank you for sharing that with people I've never met before!' Sarah gave him a look. Although she knew he was teasing, these were potential clients of sorts.

‘Oh, don't worry about him,' said Fenella, taking Sarah by the shoulder and leading her into the house. 'He always says outrageous things. It's his way of getting attention. Now come in. Oops, mind the dogs.’

A raggle-taggle selection of dogs came towards them in a wave. There were a couple of bigger ones, which Sarah thought were pointers, and a collection of small ones, who looked unnervingly like copies of the big ones that had accidentally got into the washing machine and been shrunk. They sniffed around Sarah and Hugo but didn't say much.

‘Come on,' said Fenella, having herded the pack round the corner of the house to some unseen destination.

They entered an echoing, empty hall big enough for a small ballet troupe to practise in.

‘Come through to the kitchen where it's a bit more cosy and I'll make some coffee. Rupert's somewhere about. The trouble is, the house is so bloody enormous we keep losing each other.’

Fenella led Sarah and Hugo through various other rooms and corridors to the back of the house and into a huge, sunny kitchen.

‘This is the only room we've got enough furniture for,' said Fenella, 'and even then it's only because we put everything we've got into it.'