Maybe it wasn’t his heart that was lying in shreds, but his pride. Or was it always pride that suffered most from this most public declaration that you weren’t quite good enough?

‘The singing waiters?’ he repeated, making sure they were on the same page.

‘I’m with you,’ she said, putting the glass down. There was a dangerously long pause and she looked up, anticipating some sarcastic comment. But he shook his head as if he’d thought better of it and placed a tick alongside the figure.

Her sigh of relief came a little too soon.

‘Doves? Are they in such demand too?’ he enquired a few moments later, but politely, as if making an effort. He couldn’t possibly be interested.

‘I’m afraid so. And corn is not cheap,’ she added, earning herself another of those long looks. She really needed to resist the snappy remarks. Especially as the gifts for the bridesmaids came next.

Candy had chosen bracelets for each of them from London’s premier jeweller. No expense spared.

The nib of his pen hovered beside the item for a moment, then he said, ‘Send them back.’

‘What? No, wait.’ He looked up. ‘I can’t do that!’

‘You can’t? Why not?’

Was he serious? Hadn’t he taken the slightest interest in his own wedding?

‘Because they’re engraved with your names and the date.’ This was cruel, she thought. One of his staff should be dealing with this. Pride was a killer…‘They were supposed to be a keepsake,’ she added.

‘Is that a fact?’ Then, ‘So? Where are they? These keepsakes.’