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the time they finished, and they’d had great fun inspecting various men and writing Rachel’s profile, in between glasses of wine.
    ‘I’m sure this isn’t the kind of thing one should do when drunk,’ said Rachel.
    ‘Best way,’ said Sophie. She stood up and stretched her arms.
    ‘Do you think the picture I posted was all right? The one on the chambers website is the only one I’ve got.’
    ‘It’s lovely,’ yawned Sophie. ‘You’re very photogenic. Couldn’t take a bad picture if you tried. God, look at the time. I have to be up at half six.’
    Rachel saw Sophie to the door. ‘You’re a true friend – thanks for coming round. Though I’m still not sure online dating is quite me.’
    ‘You don’t know till you try.’ Sophie kissed Rachel goodnight. ‘All you have to do now is wait for the offers to come flooding in.’
    Rachel closed the door and leant against it, feeling a little drunk and already regretting what she’d just done. She tried to imagine the kind of man she hoped might be out there. But she could see only one face.

CHAPTER FIVE
    The following afternoon, around quarter to four, Anthony arrived at Rachel’s office to go over the papers in the casino case, and from there they took a taxi to Astleigh’s in Mayfair, where they had a five o’clock appointment with the manager.
    ‘I’m not quite sure of the point of this,’ said Anthony, as the cab made its slow way through the City rush hour traffic. ‘I’m pretty much on top of the case, so I don’t see where it gets me to visit the place where this individual happened to chuck away his small fortune.’
    ‘I thought you might find it useful to have the club’s credit system explained to you by Mr Depaul himself.’
    ‘I do know what a scrip cheque is,’ retorted Anthony. ‘And I’ve read the relevant provisions of the Gaming Act.’
    ‘Well, it’s often helpful to see first hand how things operate. Good to get a feel for the background to a case. You know that.’
    Rachel was struck by Anthony’s moody, offhand manner. He’d been like it for the past hour. Maybe his love life was as problematic as her own. She sighed inwardly. If she and Anthony had been able to make their relationship work two years ago, how much simpler both their lives might be now. But the obvious person wasn’t always the right person. Her mind slipped back to last night, being persuaded by Sophie to sign up to that awful online dating thing after too many glasses of wine. How unbelievably naff. As soon as she got home she would unsubscribe. Just the thought of strange men studying her photo and reading her personal details made her cringe.
    ‘What’s that face for?’ asked Anthony.
    ‘Oh, nothing. Just something I did which I now regret.’
    They both lapsed into silence.
    Ten minutes later they reached the casino, which was tucked away at the end of Curzon Street. Its entrance was unostentatious, a black door set between pillars, with the letter ‘A’ emblazoned on the canopy above. They were buzzed in, and escorted by Mr Depaul’s assistant down a plushly decorated hallway. The gaming room was at the far end, behind double doors. The assistant opened the doors and ushered Anthony and Rachel in. Although the room was large, it possessed a strange, luxuriant intimacy. An expanse of burgundy-and-gold patterned carpet was dotted with mahogany-lipped gaming tables and gilt-legged chairs. Chandeliers shimmered below the hand-painted ceiling, lamps glowed in alcoves, and at the end was a raised bar. It was expensively and opulently furnished, like a huge Edwardian drawing room, fragrant with the faint scent of cigars and brandies, redolent of serious money. Anthony found it unexpectedly exciting.
    Mr Depaul crossed the floor to meet them, his feet soundless on the deep-piled carpet. He was a dark-haired, dapper Frenchman, with bright eyes and an enthusiastic manner. He was one of the most popular and well-respected casino managers in London,