'My mother adores the bag I gave her for her birthday and loads of her friends are desperate to find out where she got it from! I'll be calling back soon,' the blonde promised.

Before Hope could confide that she had given up on selling at the market, Andreas had curved a firm hand to her spine to urge her past. The foyer was big and crowded with noisy knots of chattering guests. He pressed her into a doorway to say in an icy undertone, 'Is it true? Have you been flogging merchandise from a stall?'

Taken aback, Hope looked up at him in dismay.

His gleaming dark eyes were hard and cold. 'Yes. Initially, I was doing market research to find out what sells to which age groups. It helped me keep in touch with current trends-'

'You've been keeping a market stall,' Andreas sliced in, cold, incredulous disapproval etched into the hard angles of his lean, strong face. 'Trading in the street as though you were penniless and without means of support! How dare you affront me in such a manner?'

Hope was paralysed to the spot. Astonishment had leached all the natural colour from below her skin. 'It never occurred to me that you might be so snobbish about it,' she muttered unevenly.

'I am not a snob.' Andreas rejected that accusation out of hand.

Anxious turquoise eyes clear as glass rested on him. 'I'm afraid you are, but with your privileged background that's perfectly normal and understandable.'

'Theos… what has my background to do with this?' Andreas grated, his annoyance fuelled to anger by the expression of gentle and compassionate forgiveness that she wore. 'Why did you not tell me that you were working as a street trader?'

'For goodness' sake, it was only an occasional casual thing. I had no idea you would feel like this about it. I didn't even think that you would be interested,' Hope murmured unhappily. 'As it happens, I'm not doing the market any more-'

'You should never have stooped to such a level.