hair and held it out for her, settling it solicitously on her shoulders, and she wondered if she’d imagined his hands lingering for the tiniest moment.
Her shoulders tingling, she reached for her case, but he was there first, leaving her to scoop up her handbag and keys, then she followed him out of the door.
‘So who feeds the cat while you’re away?’ he asked, opening the car door for her and tucking her coat in.
‘Oh, I’ve got an automatic thingie. I’ve set it.’
‘In which minute?’ he asked with a chuckle, then slid behind the wheel and threw her a smile. ‘You look lovely, by the way,’ he added softly, making her heart hiccup and her insides tighten with anticipation. ‘Much better than the uniform.’
‘Well, that wouldn’t be hard. It’s a bit tight, though. I haven’t worn it since before Christmas—I must have been staving off the cold a bit too enthusiastically,’ she said with a rueful smile, but he shook his head.
‘It’s perfect. You look very convincing.’
Convincing. Of course. That was what this was all about, and she’d better not forget it. He’d only invited her as an afterthought, and she needed to keep that in mind. This was not, repeat not, a date. She was there to be convincing, and so convincing she’d be. End of. She flashed him a bright smile. ‘Well, that’s a relief! I won’t be pitched out on my ear as a fraud, at least.’
They shared the smile as he started the engine and headed out into the countryside. She had no idea where they were going. Somewhere near Southwold? She’d meant to look it up on the internet to see if she could find the address of the Ashenden pile, as Amy called it, but she simply hadn’t had time. She hadn’t had time to draw breath, really, since yesterday morning, and as she sank back into the soft but supportive leather seat, she realised just how tired she was.
‘All right?’
‘Yes—it’s just been a busy day. Well, busy week, really. I’m glad it’s a sit-down formal dinner, because I don’t think my feet would cope with standing up all evening in these ridiculous heels after a day like today.’
He peered across at the footwell in the dark. ‘Are they ridiculous? I thought they looked rather good.’
He did? ‘Thank you—but looking good and feeling good aren’t the same thing,’ she explained ruefully, and his lips twitched.
‘No, I can imagine. I’ve only worn high heels once, and it was excruciating.’
She shifted in the seat, turning to face him, struggling to hold down her incredulous laughter. ‘You’ve worn high heels?’
He grinned. ‘And a dress. It’s amazing what my brother can persuade me to do for charity,’ he said drily.
That piqued her interest—that and the thought of Andrew in a dress and heels. ‘Any particular one?’
‘Meningococcal disease. He had it as a teenager and could have lost his limbs, but he was lucky and he’s very aware of that, so now he fundraises for research—well, the whole family do, he makes sure of it. The house and gardens are open to the public alternate weekends during the summer and they hold events in the park and split the proceeds between the charities and the estate.’
‘Gosh, that sounds like a lot of hard work.’
‘It is. Will’s the estate manager, so he just incorporates it into his workload, and Mum oversees the garden and the house, but it’s pretty much a full-time job for them keeping the place ticking over. And one day it’ll be my job.’
She detected a note of resignation in his voice and tipped her head on one side enquiringly. ‘You don’t sound thrilled.’
He laughed. ‘I’m not. I have a job, in case you haven’t noticed, but I’m the oldest, so I get the short straw. Not for a while, though. Dad’s only sixty-three and he’s as fit as a flea, so between them hopefully they’ll struggle on for a good few years yet.’
‘I take it your brother will be there this weekend?’
‘Will? Oh, yes. And his wife Sally. She’s their events manager at the moment, but she’ll be off for the summer on maternity leave, which should make life interesting.’
‘I’m sure. Will they cope without her?’
He chuckled. ‘I have no idea, but I’m not volunteering, I can assure you. I have quite enough to do.’
‘I imagine you do. Does your brother know you’re bringing me, by the way?’
He turned towards her, and in the dim light she could see his eyebrow twitch. ‘As in, did I tell him I’m bringing a girl? Yes. Did I mention why? No.’
She smiled at that. ‘Won’t he think it’s odd?’
‘That I have a social life? No. Should he?’
‘No, of course not, but I didn’t mean that.’ She shrugged. ‘I meant—I don’t know—that none of them have ever heard of me. Won’t there be a lot of speculation? Most people wouldn’t turn up for their mother’s sixtieth birthday with a total stranger in tow.’
‘They would if they had my mother,’ he said drily, making her laugh. ‘And anyway, speculation is the general idea, isn’t it?’
‘Probably.’ She rested her head back and looked across at him. ‘Tell me about your mother, I’m sure she can’t be that bad,’ she said, and listened to him talking about his parents and his childhood with great affection. They were obviously a close-knit and loving family, and she envied them that. Her father was dead, her mother was remarried and lived in blissful penury in Ireland with her artist husband, and she and her married elder sister hardly ever spoke. It wasn’t that they didn’t like each other, but with seven years and several hundred miles between them, they had little in common, and the last time she’d seen her had been at a great-aunt’s funeral a few months ago—a gathering that had opened a potentially devastating can of worms.
‘So that’s us. My father, my mother, me, my brother and his wife and a whole horde of cats and dogs and horses and cattle and deer—I take it you’re all right with dogs, by the way? We have quite a few.’
She pulled herself back to the present and put the troubling thoughts aside. ‘I’m fine with dogs. I’d have one if I wasn’t at work all day.’
‘Ditto. Not to mention half the night.’
‘Mmm. So tell me about Jacob. I know you’re happier with him now but did you get last night off?’
He laughed and scrubbed his hand around the back of his neck. ‘Sort of. His left leg was swelling a bit yesterday—that was why they paged me. They thought he might be getting compartment syndrome, but nothing came of it, and I popped in before I went home last night and I went in again early this morning and it seems to have settled. He’s OK—well, orthopaedic-wise, anyway, for the moment. The head injury’s still a bit of a worry and he might need further surgery later on his legs and pelvis if he makes it, but at least that’s looking increasingly likely, thank goodness.’
‘So will you have to go back over the weekend?’ she asked, wondering
