my favorite bird. I prefer duck, pheasant, or partridge any day. But she hasn’t ever listened to me, at least not about turkeys anyway.”
Miles half smiled, and wondered whether to bring up his elder brother. After a moment’s thought he decided he would do so, since Derek had always been his confidant, and like a father to him all his life. He said slowly, “Has Ma mentioned Nigel to you?”
“No, she hasn’t, but then, Blair and I haven’t seen her in New York. We’ve been back from Los Angeles only a few days, and she seems to have been awfully busy at Jardine’s. Is there something wrong with Nigel too, in your considered opinion, Miles?”
“No, not that I know of. However, Ma’s indicated to me a few times that she thinks he’s…sort of—” Cutting himself off, Miles hesitated, and then, dropping his voice an octave, he finished in a stage whisper, “Plotting against her.”
“Ah, I see.” There was a dramatic pause. Then, holding Miles with his eyes, Derek intoned, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”
“I suppose there’s truth in that. Shakespeare always got it right, didn’t he? And you should know, you’ve been in enough of his dramas.”
A thoughtful look crossed the actor’s expressive face, and he was silent for a moment or two, and then he asked quietly, “Do you believe he’s plotting, Miles?”
“I…I just don’t know.”
“I know your mother. She doesn’t imagine things, she’s far too pragmatic for that. Therefore, if she thinks he is, then he is. Although, to be truthful, I’m damned if I know the reason he would do such a thing. After all, the business will be his one day.”
“Maybe he’s in a hurry.”
“I can’t imagine the reason.”
“Neither can I, Gramps.”
Derek sighed. “Ambition. Greed. The lust for power. It’s toppled many a throne, caused murder and mayhem on a grand scale. We’ve only got to look at the Plantagenets and the Tudors to understand that.” He shook his head, and a sad, rather regretful expression settled on his handsome face. “Nigel always was something of a mystery to me, Miles, I must admit. I never really understood him when he was a child. Nor did I understand his actions when he was a teenager. But then, that’s another story altogether, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. I didn’t understand all that mess either.”
Derek stared off into space for a moment, lost in memories of the past, before saying eventually, “How is Nigel’s marriage? Is that all right? No problems with Tamara?”
“None as far as I know, and she’s a smashing girl. He’s bloody lucky to have her and those two great kids.”
“Ah, but does he know it, Miles?”
Miles shrugged, lifted his hands in a helpless gesture.
Derek averted his head, looked into the fire, lost in thought again.
After a moment Miles said, “Getting back to Gideon, I’ve been wondering if he’s upset about Margot. But then, why would he be, when he broke it off with her?”
“Could he possibly have regrets?” Derek suggested, turning to face Miles, looking directly at him.
“Maybe. But it wasn’t very good between them in the end. I think she was getting on his nerves. Margot always was something of a social butterfly, and you know Gideon’s not very keen on partying. He’s too serious, too dedicated to work.” Miles exhaled heavily. “Oh, God, I don’t know…and who knows what Gideon really thinks or feels? It beats me.”
“Have you tried talking to him?”
Miles threw back his head and guffawed. “Oh, come on, Gramps, of course I have! And he bit my head off the last time I did.”
“Perhaps he’s just going through one of those phases all young men go through—at some time or other,” Derek said, thinking out loud. “Trying to find himself, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. But more than likely, it’s woman trouble.” A brow lifted knowingly. “That’s usually what’s ailing men when they appear troubled and despairing but without any real reason to be so afflicted.”
“I suppose you’re right, Derek.”
A split second later, Chloe appeared in the archway of the great hall. “Coo-ee, coo-ee,” she called, waving frantically, trying to gain their attention. “It’s almost three-thirty and lunch is ready! Mom would like you to come to the dining room. Now, she says.”
“Her wish is our command, my darling.” Derek put down his glass and rose.
So did Miles.
Together the two men went to join her, and the three of them slowly made their way to the dining room.
IT WAS A FESTIVE LUNCH.
Everyone talked a lot and laughed and exclaimed about the good things offered to them, since by now they were all extremely hungry.
Cappi and her two helpers had prepared a truly memorable Thanksgiving lunch. There were all manner of delicious and succulent things to eat with the large, plump turkey—sweet potatoes with a marshmallow topping, mashed potatoes as well as potatoes roasted in the oven, and parsnips, red cabbage, cranberries, a thick, fragrant-smelling gravy, and, of course, Stevie’s famous, mouthwatering sage-and-onion bread stuffing.
Along with the turkey, Cappi had baked a Virginia ham and roasted a batch of quail, much to Derek’s amusement. He knew that these had been made in order to tempt him; after years of complaining to Stevie about her Thanksgiving turkeys, she had apparently taken the hint. And yet hadn’t he always explained to her that English turkeys were not as good as those to be found in America, an important point, since over the years most of her Thanksgiving meals had been served in London. He had been partially teasing her; she had taken his words to heart.
“A little of everything,” he told Cappi, who was hovering around the sideboard, where the turkey, ham, and quail were arrayed on large platters, alongside all the accompanying vegetables. “And only dark meat, please, if you’re giving me turkey.”
“And what about vegetables, Sir Derek?”
“Mashed potatoes would be lovely, and stuffing and gravy, but that’s it, thanks, Cappi. Must watch the waistline, you know.”
Miles moved slowly around the table, pouring the red Bordeaux, a Château Gruaud-Larose, his favorite Saint-Julien. It had been bottled in 1989, a good year, and he commented on this to Miles, who nodded and smiled. “Chosen specially for you,” Miles told him with a conspiratorial wink.
Chloe followed on her brother’s heels, filling their water glasses; Blair passed around the basket of homemade breads and Stevie offered cranberry sauce. Then at last they were all served, and they settled down to eat.
Derek ate slowly, savoring his food, saying a
