later the newest addition to the family was swathed in the shawl that served all Dysart christenings, and his various female relatives were ready and hatted when Fenny dashed to join them, wearing a man’s navy coat and clumpy, platform-soled shoes, her hand held up for attention.
‘For pity’s sake tell her she looks great,’ she hissed, then stood aside nonchalantly when Kate appeared in her long, fitted coat of bronze wool, hair rippling in a shining dark cascade down her back, the fake-fur hat set straight over eyes that looked around in question.
‘What do you think? Will I do?’
‘You look amazing, Kate!’ said Gabriel, handing her son to Adam. ‘Straight out of Doctor Zhivago.’
‘The hat looks wonderful on you, darling,’ said Tom Dysart, and exchanged a smile with his wife. ‘I remember my mother in it.’
‘You put us all in the shade,’ Leonie assured her sister warmly.
Adam grinned at Kate over his son’s head. ‘Prepare yourself for a photo call after the ceremony, godmother.’
‘When are the godfathers arriving?’ she asked, as everyone made a move.
‘Hopefully they’re at the church right now, along with everyone else.’ Adam looked at his watch. ‘At least Jeremy Blyth will be. But punctuality was never one of Charlie’s strong suits.’
‘I thought you had a row with Charlie Hawkins,’ said Leonie, as they went out to the cars.
‘All in the past,’ Adam told her, smiling at Gabriel.
‘Life’s too short to be at odds with old friends,’ agreed his wife. ‘The other godfather is my old friend.’
‘The famous Jeremy Blyth, art dealer extraordinaire,’ said Harry Brett, grinning at his daughter. ‘What’s he giving Hal for a present, Gabriel? A Picasso?’
‘We should be so lucky!’
When the family party arrived at the church a small crowd of people were gathered outside in the icy sunshine. Towering above the rest, Alasdair Drummond, superbly dark-suited, was deep in conversation with a similarly formal Charles Hawkins, who had been friends with Adam Dysart since their first day at school. But Jeremy Blyth, a slender man with sleek fair hair, was exquisite and unmistakable in a pearl-grey suit, with bow tie and waistcoat in lilac silk.
Kate saw Alasdair stop mid-sentence as he caught sight of her, and gave him a brilliant smile as Gabriel hurried to kiss Jeremy Blyth and Charlie before moving on to smile at the man next in line.
‘By a process of elimination,’ said Gabriel, ‘you must be Alasdair Drummond. I’m Gabriel Dysart.’
‘Then Adam’s a lucky man,’ he assured her. ‘It was good of him to invite me here today.’
‘Hospitable bloke,’ said Charlie, clapping Adam on the shoulder. ‘May I say you look stunning, Mrs Dysart?’
‘As many times as you like,’ Gabriel assured him. ‘Come and meet your godson.’
After a round of greetings and kisses with friends and neighbours, everyone moved inside for the service. Kate received Henry Thomas Dysart into her arms, and looked up to meet grey eyes regarding her from the background with a heat which brought her lashes down to hide the triumph in her own. Alasdair Drummond might have thought of her in a brotherly way in the past, but that, Kate knew without doubt, was no longer the case. Ignoring a rush of excitement totally unsuitable to her surroundings, she kept her attention firmly on the stirring bundle in her arms and, in unison with Jeremy Blyth and Charlie Hawkins, made the necessary affirmations about her part in young Hal’s future welfare.
The baby objected so volubly to the holy water there was a ripple of delighted laugher, and Kate, not without trepidation, took him into her arms again and rocked him against her shoulder. Gabriel handed over a pacifier, Kate slid it into the protesting mouth, and instantly there was peace to finish the service and for the photographs outside before the short drive back to Friars Wood.
Mrs Briggs, with the help of her daughter, had been busy in their absence. When the guests were shown straight into the large, south-facing dining room the table looked magnificent, with the flowers Kate had arranged as centrepiece, and an array of food, hot and cold, flanked by glasses which glittered in the rays from the setting sun, waiting for the champagne Charlie Hawkins, successful wine merchant, had provided as part of his gift to his godson.
Master Dysart was changed into something more comfortable, then provided with milk administered by Laura Brett, who persuaded Frances Dysart to keep her company on a sofa while the daughters of the house served guests with the celebration meal.
It was some time before Kate, now minus the hat, had time to talk to Alasdair, but at last she felt obliged to join him on his perch on the ledge in the big square bay window.
‘Have you been introduced to everyone?’ she asked.
‘Adam saw to that.’ He gave her a look which brought heat to her face. ‘You looked breathtaking in that hat, Kate—straight from a Russian fairy tale.’
‘Why, thank you, kind sir,’ she said lightly.
‘You should always wear that glorious hair down.’
‘Don’t you start! It was OK when I was eighteen, but I’m a big girl now, Alasdair.’
His soft laughter raised hairs on her spine.
‘Not really, Kate. More a pocket Venus!’
‘What are you saying to make this delightful creature blush?’ asked Jeremy Blyth, joining them.
‘Do sit down,’ said Kate, patting the broad ledge beside her. ‘Alasdair was just paying me a compliment. I think.’
‘As well he might, my dear.’ Jeremy shook his head. ‘I wonder if my darling Gabriel had any idea what she had to compete with when she met Adam? You Dysarts are a handsome lot.’
‘Including the baby of the family,’ agreed Alasdair, looking across the room to Fenny, who was chattering to Harry Brett and Jonah. ‘That charmer was a gawky little kid when I saw her last.’
‘But little girls get bigger every day, dear boy,’ said Jeremy, and turned to Kate. ‘Now then, fellow godparent, at what point should we converge, like the Magi, to present our gifts to the infant?’
‘After the cake is cut and everyone is refilled with champagne for the toasts,’ she said promptly.
‘Talking of which,’ said Alasdair, getting up, ‘your glass is empty, Kate. Let me get you a refill.’
‘Just lemonade, please.’
‘Oh, come on, Kate, you must have champagne in honour of your godson,’ he protested.
‘Not for me, thanks,’ she said with finality.
‘Is your aversion to alcohol in general, my dear?’ asked Jeremy gently after Alasdair left them.
‘Not at all. Just champagne—or any kind of wine, really.’ Kate smiled at him, then beckoned to Charlie
