in one eye, but he still recognised a friend when he saw one. He huffed a bit, wanting to be picked up, but Rafe dropped his bag on the scrubbed-pine table and started to unpack it instead.
Josie bustled through from the hall, carrying a tray, and Rafe saw an empty cafetière and two cups, and a plate that still contained three chocolate digestives. He picked up one of the biscuits and bit into it as Josie welcomed him, making light of her thanks as she examined what he’d brought.
‘Fillet steak!’ she exclaimed with some enthusiasm. ‘You spoil us, Rafe, you really do.’
‘If I don’t, who will?’ he retorted philosophically. ‘How is the old girl this morning? I intended to get over yesterday evening, but then I got caught up with something else.’
‘The something else wouldn’t be called Olivia, would she?’ she teased him, putting the steak and other perishables he’d brought into the ancient fridge.
‘You’ve been listening to too much gossip,’ retorted Rafe, stowing a warm loaf in the bread bin. ‘Where is the old lady, anyway? I’d better go and say hello.’
‘Shall I bring another pot of coffee?’ Josie paused in what she was doing, but Rafe just shook his head.
‘I’ll take one of these,’ he said, picking up a can of ginger ale he’d bought for his own use when he was here. ‘No. No glass,’ he deterred her, when she would have taken one from the cupboard. He paused. ‘The conservatory, right?’
‘Oh—yes.’ Josie pulled a rueful face and tucked a strand of iron-grey hair behind her ear. ‘She’ll have heard the car, I don’t doubt for a minute. She may be old but her hearing’s as sharp as ever.’
Rafe grinned, and with Hitchins at his heels he walked across the mahogany-panelled hall and into the morning room opposite. Beyond the morning room, a vaulted conservatory basked in sunlight. It was built at one side of the old house, to take advantage of a view of the river. Weeping willows trailed their branches in water that mirrored their reflection, while kingfishers dived from the river bank, their speed only equalled by their success.
Lady Elinor was seated in a fan-backed basketwork chair beside a matching table. The morning newspaper resided on the table, turned to the crossword that was almost completed. It was the old lady’s boast that she could finish the crossword before eleven o’clock every morning and, glancing at his watch, Rafe saw she still had fifteen minutes to go.
‘Don’t let me keep you!’ she exclaimed shrewishly, noting his momentary distraction, and Rafe pulled a face before bending to kiss her gnarled cheek.
‘I won’t,’ he assured her. ‘I was just checking the time, that’s all. It looks like it’s in danger of defeating you today.’
‘If you’re talking about the crossword, that fool, Josie, has kept me gossiping again. She brings my coffee and then thinks she has to keep me entertained. I’ve said to her a dozen times, I don’t need her company.’
‘You love it really.’ Rafe was laconic. He picked up the Pekinese and walked across to the French windows, gazing out across the river to the meadows beyond. ‘So—what have you been talking about? Or am I not supposed to ask?’
‘Since when has that stopped you?’ Lady Elinor was impatient. ‘I was telling her that Cary’s bringing his fiancée to meet me on Thursday. I’m hoping they’ll stay for a few days. At least over the weekend.’
‘His fiancée, eh?’ Rafe turned, and put the dog down again. Ignoring its complaints, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, a heavy strand of night dark hair falling over his eyes. ‘That must please you. Him settling down at last.’
‘If it’s true.’ The old lady massaged the handle of the malacca cane that stood beside her chair and Rafe thought how difficult it would be for Cary to put one over on his grandmother. Her brain was as sharp as it had ever been, despite the many wrinkles that lined her patrician features. ‘I’ve met the girl, actually. She and her family lived in the same road as Charles and Isabel, when they were alive. Her name is Juliet Lawrence—well, it used to be Lawrence, but she’s a divorcee, so who knows what she calls herself now? She’s younger than Cary. Her father used to work in the City. Her mother died when she was just a baby and I believe her father died five or six years ago.’
‘A comprehensive history,’ remarked Rafe drily, and Lady Elinor gave him a darkling look.
‘I need to know these things, Raphael,’ she said irritably. ‘I don’t want Cary marrying some strumpet. At least this girl is from a decent family.’
Rafe shrugged. ‘You don’t think entertaining Cary and his girlfriend might be too much for you right now?’ he ventured, and saw the look of indignation that crossed the old lady’s face.
‘I’ve had a cold, Raphael. Not pneumonia. It’s the time of year. I always catch a cold in the spring.’
‘If you say so.’ Rafe knew better than to argue. ‘OK. If that’s all, I’ll go and see if Josie needs any help. If you’re putting them in the Lavender Room, I’d better check the bathroom for leaks.’
Lady Elinor looked positively offended. ‘I’m not putting them anywhere,’ she declared, laying great emphasis on the pronoun. ‘Cary will stay in his own room, as usual, and Miss Lawrence can use Christina’s apartments.’
Rafe’s jaw tightened. ‘I’ve never heard you call them that before.’
‘Haven’t you?’ The old lady was dismissive. ‘Christina was my daughter, Raphael. Just because she chose to live the kind of life I could never approve of doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten her.’
‘Or forgiven her?’
‘I’m too old to bear grudges, Raphael.’
‘OK.’ He inclined his head and strolled towards the door. ‘Is there anything else you need?’
Lady Elinor pursed her lips. ‘Josie told me that you had a reception at the studio last night,’ she ventured, with some reluctance. ‘Why wasn’t I informed?’
Rafe sighed, pausing in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the frame. ‘I didn’t think you’d be interested.’
The old lady scowled. ‘And why would you think that?’
‘Why would I think that? Let me count the ways,’ he misquoted mockingly. ‘Because you don’t approve of my painting portraits for a living? Because you don’t want me to turn out like my mother? Because my independence sticks in your craw? Am I getting close?’
‘I don’t approve of some of the people you mix with,’ conceded Lady Elinor testily. ‘But I never stopped your mother from doing what she wanted, and I shan’t attempt to stop you. Remember, it was she who chose to live in all those exotic places, hauling a small boy around whose existence I knew nothing of. When she died, however, I didn’t hesitate in offering you a home here with me.’
Rafe’s shoulders rounded. ‘I know.’
‘Just because we don’t always see eye to eye—’
‘Look, I’m sorry, OK?’
‘—doesn’t
