It was like she’d slapped him. Even Hoppy was looking balefully across at him, like he’d offended the dog too.

‘I have offended you,’ he said, frowning, and she shook her head.

‘No. I just decided you’re right. It’s formal, the stuff we’ll be doing, so I may as well start being formal now.’

‘You could have caviar if you want. If it’s aboard.’

‘I don’t really want it.’

‘But you asked…’

‘I just thought maybe it’d be fun to play the princess a little,’ she said, and then looked ruefully down at her faded jeans and her three-legged dog. ‘But I’m not princess material. I never have been.’

‘Cinderella before the godmother?’

‘Yeah, well, the godmother’s the money thing,’ she said. ‘Bane of my life.’ Griswold came through, bearing a tray carrying one crystal flute, the champagne bubbling deliciously. She looked at the champagne with regret.

‘Do you think I should ask for it to be put back in the bottle?’

‘I don’t think it can be,’ he said weakly. Hell, how to make a man feel bad…

‘You mean I just have to drink it?’ She cheered up. ‘To save its life? Hooray.’ Griswold smiled as she buried her nose in bubbles. ‘Are you having one?’

‘I’ll have a glass of wine with my meal.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘And more than one never touches your lips?’

‘I believe it’d be good if at least one of us kept our wits about us.’ Um… He hadn’t meant to say that. It was just that she made him feel old. No. Defensive, he decided, but he didn’t know why.

And she seemed to agree with him.

‘Of course,’ she said, and raised her glass in his direction. ‘How very wise. You stay on watch. You keep all your wits while I stick my nose into champagne.’

Why had he said that?

He sounded about a hundred. Talk about a killjoy…

He thought of what Erhard had told him about this woman. She’d had it tough for the past few years. No wonder she’d been talked into accepting her heritage. No wonder she wanted to escape to a little fantasy.