would you call a child Odysseus?
As if the question was written all over his face, Beatrice explained, ‘Orlando studied classics. So did his wife. They wanted to use names from Greek mythology for their children—and their dogs.’ She grinned. ‘They have a black Lab called Cerberus—although he only has one head, he barks enough for three and it drives Mummy crackers.’
She called her mother ‘Mummy’? Posher still. Beatrice Lindford was way, way out of his league.
Not that he was thinking of asking her out.
The attraction he felt towards her needed to be stifled. The sooner, the better.
She looked at the drawing again. ‘Why am I wearing a crown?’
‘Iain says you talk like the Queen and you’ve got hair like a princess, so he’s decided you must be a princess and therefore you also know the Queen and Prince Harry.’
She laughed. ‘That’s cute.’
‘I tried to tell him you’re not a princess.’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Are you sure? Because... Well...’
‘Because I have a posh accent and most of my family have unusual names? That’s a bit of a sweeping generalisation. It’d be like me saying you’re from Glasgow so everything you eat must be fried.’
‘True, and I didn’t mean to be rude.’
* * *
Beatrice definitely wasn’t going to tell Daniel that she had grown up in a castle. Or that actually her father was a viscount, making her family minor royalty. He didn’t need to know any of that. All he needed to know about her was that she was a doctor, and she was good at her job.
‘Apology accepted. And I love Iain’s drawing.’ She smiled at him. ‘He’s a nice boy.’
‘And he hasn’t stopped talking about you, or asking when you can come to tea. I’ve told him you’re busy and you’re probably married to a prince.’ Daniel rolled his eyes. ‘That’s what started all the Prince Harry stuff. His mum likes Prince Harry.’
So Daniel had clearly split up from his partner rather than being a widower. It was unusual for a dad to have custody of the child, but asking him about the situation felt like prying. ‘Prince Harry is gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Your wife has good—’ She stopped dead. Uh-oh. Good taste. That was tantamount to saying that she fancied Daniel.
Which she didn’t.
Well, a little bit.
Well, quite a lot.
But things were complicated. She had the job he claimed he hadn’t applied for but which everyone thought had had his name on it. He had a son who was clearly the focus of his life, and dating would be tricky for him. Plus she didn’t want to tell him about her past and see the pity in his face.
Better to keep this professional.
‘Good taste in princes,’ she finished.
‘I’ll tell her that. Because Iain’s going to tell her all about you when he sees her this weekend.’ He sighed. ‘You wouldn’t believe how much a four-year-old boy can talk.’
Or girl. She thought of Taylor and her heart squeezed. Would her little girl have been a chatterbox?
Not here. Not now.
‘Oh, I would. George could talk the hind leg off a donkey. He’s four,’ she said. A month younger than Taylor would’ve been. And how hard it had been to walk into her sister-in-law’s hospital room and hold that baby in her arms for the first time. She’d had to force herself to smile and hold back the tears. ‘George is the youngest of my nephews, and his big thing is dinosaurs. You wouldn’t believe how many complicated names he can pronounce. Give him a bucket of wooden bricks and he’ll build you a stegosaurus in two minutes flat.’
‘Iain loves dinosaurs, too. And rockets. My mum painted a mural in his bedroom of dinosaurs in a rocket heading for the moon, and he loves it.’
‘I bet.’ She glanced at her watch, knowing that she was being a coward and cutting this short. But she couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved with Daniel Capaldi and his son. ‘Better get back to the ward. Please thank Iain for his drawing. It’s lovely.’
‘I will.’ He looked relieved, as if she’d let him off the hook.
So did that mean he felt this ridiculous attraction, too?
Well, even if he did, they weren’t going to act on it. They were going to be professional. Keep things strictly business between them. And that was that.
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