for him, so he could stretch out his injured leg, she saw immediately that his handsome face looked perturbed.
‘What’s up?’ she asked. ‘I’m sorry if it was a little bumpy coming down the drive. You’re not in pain, I hope?’
‘Unless you have the power to go back to Elizabethan times and predict that we’ll be driving round in engine-driven motor cars in five hundred years’ time, so we had better level the road, there’s not much you can do about the bumpy drive, I’m afraid. The surface has always been uneven and slightly bowed. And, in answer to your second question, I’m not in pain. But thanks for asking.’
Clamping down on her automatic response—It’s my job to ask how you’re feeling—Kit somehow shaped her lips into a smile. ‘Anyway, it looks like an amazing house. It must have been wonderful, growing up with so much space around you. The places me and my mum lived in were always so cramped and small.’
Hal’s gaze narrowed interestedly. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you...where does your mother live now? Is she on her own or does she have a partner?’
It had never been easy to talk about her mum at the best of times, and it wasn’t any easier now. Inevitably, even though she had forged a life of her own and didn’t regret it, Kit couldn’t help sometimes feeling guilty that she didn’t make herself as available to her as she’d used to. But the last time they’d spoken on the phone, Elizabeth Blessington had told her that she’d tentatively been dating the widower who lived next door to the building where her little flat was housed. It was early days yet, she’d stated, her tone sounding uncharacteristically cautious, but she had high hopes that it might blossom into something special.
Tucking some hair behind her ear, Kit stopped frowning and lifted her gaze back to Hal’s.
‘She lives in London and, yes, she lives alone. But she’s recently started dating a widower who lives nearby, so I’m sure she has company from time to time. Anyway, shouldn’t we go and find out if your dad is in? I can wheel you in your chair, or would you prefer to use your walking aids?’
‘I’ll use the crutches. I’d prefer to confront my dad when I’m standing upright.’ His lips thinned ruefully.
‘“Confront”?’
‘Wrong word. Come on, let’s go in.’
As they stood outside the imposing gabled front door Kit stole a glance at Hal to try and ascertain how he was feeling. His carved handsome face never failed to make her heart race, and it raced even more now because she’d intuited that he had mixed feelings about coming home to see his father again. She prayed the meeting would go well. The last thing he needed was to feel it hadn’t been a success.
‘If I didn’t have to hold onto these damned crutches I’d hold your hand,’ he said gruffly, a riveting dimple appearing at the side of his mouth.
Her insides cartwheeled pleasurably. ‘I’m here for you, Hal. You don’t have to worry.’ Gently, Kit touched her hand to the back of his chocolate-brown jacket.
At that very same moment the door opened. A distinguished-looking man who looked to be in his sixties appeared. He had liberally greying dark hair that must once have been as strong and lustrous as the hair of the man standing beside her, and was dressed in casual country tweeds with a waxed jacket. Possessed of the same compelling hazel-eyed gaze as the younger man, he stared at Hal as though being confronted by a ghost.
Kit dropped her hand.
‘Hello, Dad. Thought I’d surprise you.’ His son greeted him diffidently.
‘Why in God’s name didn’t you ring to let me know you were coming?’ the other man responded.
He had the kind of resonant, booming voice usually attributed to distinguished actors who performed Shakespeare, and Kit didn’t mind admitting that it startled her.
‘I’ll turn round and go back to London if it’s inconvenient,’ Hal countered immediately, unable to keep the hurt from his tone.
‘Of course it’s not inconvenient. If it’s a surprise you hoped for then you’ve succeeded. I didn’t mean that it was an unwelcome one. Come in, come in. It’s clear you can’t stand there for long on those crutches. It can hardly be good for you.’
‘I’ll help you,’ Kit said quickly, her hand once again going to Hal’s broad back to reassure him.
‘And who might you be, young lady?’ the older man asked pointedly, making no bones about looking her up and down.
Casting aside the uncomfortably warm sensation of self-consciousness that spread throughout her body, she determinedly lifted her head and silently defied him to find fault or look down his aristocratic nose at her for even a second.
‘My name is Kit Blessington. Your son hired me to give him some practical help while he recuperates from his accident.’
‘Did he, indeed?’ There was a definite suggestion of a mocking smile around the mouth whose upper lip was decorated by a dark military-style moustache. ‘Well, I’m Sir Henry Treverne—Hal’s father—as I’m sure you’ve gleaned by now. It’s good to know that my son had the foresight to get himself some help and support when he needed it, for once. He usually insists on doing most things alone, but I’m glad that on this occasion common sense prevailed.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ Hal interjected drolly. The strain of maintaining his upright pose with the walking aids was suddenly reflected on his furrowed brow. ‘I hate to break up the party, but can we go in now? And my companion and I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee and a sandwich. It’s been a long, tiring drive.’
‘If you and Ms Blessington make your way into the family drawing room, I’ll go and find my housekeeper and get her to organise it. Now, come in from the cold and go and sit in front of the fire to warm up.’
Before he turned to follow his father inside the house Hal deliberately caught Kit’s eye and gave her a reassuring wink, as if he already knew that this visit wasn’t going to be an easy one for her either...
A WARM FIRE was indeed blazing invitingly in the marble fireplace as they entered the family drawing room. It was a strange feeling, coming back to the room Hal had sat in so many times over the years with his father and sister...almost a surreal sensation—as if the past was nothing but a dream he’d conjured up. It was literally years since the three of them had spent any proper time together, and it was growing more and more unlikely that they ever would. The loving, caring family unit that he’d longed for them to become after his mother had left had never really become a reality.
Not liking the sombre direction his thoughts were taking him in—especially when he’d resolved to heal the rift with his father—Hal made his way across the expansive stone floor, liberally covered with hand-crafted Persian rugs, and carefully lowered himself onto one of the leather couches. Kit stayed close by him to help. As he sat she took his crutches away and laid them down on the floor, where he could easily reach them. Then, with a self-conscious smile she moved away.
It wasn’t the reaction he’d anticipated. Whether she acknowledged it or not, there was a definite bond between them now, and in his mind their lovemaking last night had sealed that bond. He was no longer just a client
