He felt the ground shift under him when he saw the look on Lucy’s face. Their message had been well and truly received by the Rochet family. And here, in the flesh, was the reply. ‘Madame Rochet?’ He gave her a deep, respectful bow. ‘Mr Fox,’ came the tremulous response. He quickly moved to take her arm, guiding her to a nearby armchair. ‘You mustn’t blame your wife for my sudden appearance at your door. I took a chance in coming to the hotel and it was pure luck that I saw her in the lobby. I knew she was English by the way she dressed and how she wore her hair. I can pick the cut of a London dressmaker’s gown from across the other side of a ballroom. From the way Lucy’s lovely fair hair is curled, I guessed who she was in an instant.’ Avery’s discomfort at the situation he had so suddenly found himself in increased when Lucy softly chuckled. He scowled. Now was not the time for levity.
