From behind a shelf of cookery books he produced a bottle. A couple of small glasses came from the same cache and he put both on the table.

‘Is that Rupert's, or yours?' asked Sarah. She didn't want to accept Hugo's offer of a drink if it was really Rupert's. There was plenty of alcohol upstairs she wouldn't feel bad about drinking.

‘It's mine. I put it here earlier for just this occasion.’

‘Which is?' She pulled out a chair.

He didn't answer. He just smiled and poured a small amount of the drink into each glass. He handed her one. 'It's Armagnac. I brought it back from France a while ago.’

She sipped. It was delicious. Hugo pulled out a chair and sat opposite her, so their knees were almost touching. Sarah tried very hard to ignore the bolt of electricity and heat that went through her, and not just from the brandy. Her resistance was rapidly melting away. As Hugo set the bottle down Sarah noticed marks on the back of his hand. One of them had been bleeding. Without thinking she put down her glass and took hold of the damaged hand.

‘You're hurt! How did this happen?' The moment the words were out she realised she knew how it had happened – the action of holding his hand was familiar. 'I did it, didn't I? Those are my nail marks – Hugo, I had no idea-’

He didn't wait for her apology. He put his free hand on her cheek and pulled her gently towards him and kissed her.

Sarah had been through a lot that day, her defences were wafer thin and his mouth on hers was more than enough to demolish them. She felt she could have sat at the table, kissin^g Hugo, tasting the brandy, feeling the contact between his tongue and hers for ever. The outside world faded away and she never wanted to move. Weeks of trying not to think about him, dream about him, about the kisses, telling herself he was no good for her, he was with someone else, dissolved. For the moment she could forget about Electra. For the moment, Hugo was hers.

Someone, one of the caterers possibly, came into the room, saw what was going on and apologised before backing out again.

‘Come on,' said Hugo. 'We can't stay here.’

Sarah followed where he led, up the back stairs to a bedroom under the eaves. 'The servants' quarters,' he explained as they went. 'Which is why Rupert put me here.'

‘Here' was a long low room right under the roof at the front of the house, on the opposite side to where she and Elsa were supposed to be sleeping, she briefly noted before she joined him in the room. The only light was from the long row of windows. In daylight the view would be spectacular. Hugo went to the bed and switched on the lamp beside it.

‘There would have been a whole row of beds in here, for the female servants. Maybe they even slept two to a bed. It's going to make the most wonderful flat. Rupert and Fenella have got great plans for it.' He paused and turned towards her.

Sarah suddenly felt herself stiffen. 'Hugo, I can't do this,' she said.

She stopped in the doorway. She could appreciate the potential of the servants' quarters; she could see how much work needed doing, which was why a family friend, like Hugo, had been put here rather than anyone else, but she couldn't cross the threshold. Something, fear possibly, held her rooted to the spot.

‘What can't you do?'

‘I can't have sex with you, Hugo. My body wants to – or at least it did a few moments ago, but I can't cope with…just sex.’

‘What makes you think it would be "just" anything?' He spoke softly, as if aware of how little it would take to send Sarah running back down the stairs.

‘You're engaged to Electra. If you could make love to me while-'

‘I'm not. I'm not engaged to Electra. In fact I never was. I've been trying to tell you…' He paused.

‘Oh?' She couldn't keep the cynicism from her voice, although she tried hard to.

‘Come and sit down. I can't talk to you while you're standing over there.’

She didn't move. He came towards her and took her hand and guided her out of the doorway. Then he shut the door. 'Nothing's going to happen here that we don't both want, but I need to tell you about Electra.' He led her over to the bed, which was the only place to sit, and before she could resist she found her knees giving way and she sat down.

‘Electra and I have known each other all our lives. If there'd ever been any sexual spark between us we'd have been married by now.’

Sarah didn't speak. She felt trembly and confused. She didn't want to spoil the moment by saying something inappropriate.

‘A couple of months ago – just after Ashlyn's wedding actually – I met Electra at some do or other. She was distraught. Because we're old friends I got her to tell me everything and it turned out she'd just been dumped. Worse than that for her, at least, seemed to be that she'd told everyone – she's got some very smug cousins – that she was about to get engaged. There was some sort of house party, with the cousins, that she was about to go to sans fiancé.' He sighed. 'We made a plan. I would pretend to be her fiancé – we didn't think we needed a ring or anything – until she'd had time to get over her real love and then she could break it off and go travelling or something.' He paused again, this time looking at Sarah with an intentness she found unnerving.

‘I hadn't realised so many people had heard but I couldn't say anything until Electra broke it off. It wasn't my decision.' He got up and paced the room. 'Anyway, I wouldn't have made the suggestion if you hadn't blown me off after I thought we were getting on so well that night.' He looked at her questioningly.

Sarah didn't need to be reminded of that night. She knew exactly what happened – what had nearly happened – after Ashlyn's wedding. Nor did she need to be reminded of her turning him down when he'd asked her out to dinner – a proper date: she'd made it perfectly clear she couldn't and didn't want a relationship with him.

Hugo went over to his overnight bag and rummaged inside. He produced another of the same sort of bottle and two stainless steel mugs.

She watched him pour more Armagnac, unable to say anything for a moment, taking in all that he had said.

He brought the mugs over and gave her one, sitting down beside her again.

‘Do Fenella and Rupert know?' she finally managed. 'Yes, I've told them.' He smiled. 'Fen said thank God. She thinks we'd make a much better couple.’

Sarah blushed. 'You haven't told them – what I've been like?'

‘No, don't worry… but I am confused. Why didn't you want to go out with me – not that I'm completely irresistible.' He grinned at her. 'But we did seem to be getting on well, and tonight… I've told you my story, what's yours? Why were you so casual with me after Ashlyn's wedding? And why are you so cynical about love?’

Sarah sipped her drink. Really, she wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her until she forgot all about everything. Now she knew he wasn't another woman's man she could allow herself that pleasure. How had she ever doubted him? She'd brushed him aside, assuming he'd be like all the rest, like Bruce. But she knew she had to tell him about the past. She owed him that at least.

She took another sip, feeling a little calmer now. She swallowed, and began. 'Years ago I fell in love. I was at university. He was practically the first man I saw and I just fell. He was very sexy – sort of Hugh Grant-like, but more the part he played in Bridget Jones.' She smiled ruefully at Hugo who only nodded for her to continue. He was listening intently.

‘I loved him so completely,' she went on. 'I gave him my virginity without even thinking about it. It was still Freshers' Week. We were together for nearly all our time at uni. I was devoted to him, and I thought he was to me. We planned our future together. Then one day I found him in bed with another woman. Looking back I think he wanted me to, to save him the trouble of dumping me. I should have seen the signs. He always was a moral coward. I knew that, even when I loved him, but I didn't care.’