had hauled their bags out of the car and headed for the house and she’d been obliged to follow him.
She guessed now that he hadn’t wanted to argue with the animal. It was Lady Elinor’s dog and Juliet doubted she’d appreciate learning that her grandson had kicked the Pekinese. It was to be hoped Rafe Marchese wouldn’t tell her. Though after the way Cary had behaved, she wouldn’t blame him if he did.
Meeting Lady Elinor again had been a bit of an anticlimax after the confrontation outside. She was a lot older than Juliet remembered, naturally, but she was still an intimidating figure. If anything, Juliet would have said that Rafe resembled her far more than Cary. He had her height and that same air of cool breeding.
During lunch, Juliet had had to fend off quite a number of questions about her failed marriage to David. The fact that it was only nine months since her divorce was finalised had elicited the opinion that in her position Lady Elinor wouldn’t have been in any hurry to rush into marriage again.
Of course, Cary had come to her rescue, assuring the old lady that the reason Juliet’s marriage hadn’t worked was that she’d married the wrong man in the first place. ‘Hammond was only after her money,’ he’d said contemptuously, and Juliet had been glad Rafe Marchese hadn’t been there to see the faintly amused expression that had crossed Lady Elinor’s face at his words.
But at least it had given her a breathing space and, when the meal was over, she’d been relieved to hear her hostess bid Josie show their guest to her room. Evidently the old lady had wanted to spend some time alone with her grandson and Juliet prayed he wouldn’t make any more promises he couldn’t keep.
With her unpacking completed, Juliet contemplated the apartment she’d been given. It was much bigger than the rooms she was used to. Even the rooms at her father’s house couldn’t have competed with this. But the whole place was incredibly shabby, the high ceilings badly needed attention and the thick paper that must have once decorated the walls was now scuffed and peeling from neglect.
It was no wonder, really, if Josie was the only help Lady Elinor had. She was almost as old as her mistress, and Juliet doubted she had time to dust all the rooms, let alone attend to any repairs. Everything here was on a grand scale, including the furniture, and the bathroom next door sported a claw-footed tub and a lavatory that was elevated on a small dais.
Still, from the brief bounce she’d permitted herself on the bed, the mattress was comfortable. And the sheets were clean and smelled sweetly of a lavender-scented rinse. It was only for three nights, she assured herself. And Lady Elinor was unlikely to have anything more to say to her. Perhaps she could borrow Cary’s car and drive into the nearest town. She had little money to do any shopping, but at least it would keep her out of the way.
The room was at the front of the house and she had a magnificent view over the river estuary. At present the tide was out and there were dozens of birds strutting over the mudflats, looking for food. She saw gulls and waders; she even recognised a pair of sandpipers. She was no expert, but she guessed you could get really interested in stuff like this if you lived here.
It was still only about half-past four and, deciding she couldn’t stay in her room until suppertime, Juliet thought she’d go in search of the housekeeper. Perhaps Josie would tell her a little more about the history of the house—or the history of its occupants, she conceded, aware that she was more interested in Rafe Marchese than she was in anything or anyone else.
She rinsed her face at the crackled marble basin in the adjoining bathroom and then regarded her reflection in the spotted mirror. She still looked flushed, but that was probably just the cold water she’d washed with. Clearly Lady Elinor didn’t believe in heating the water during the day.
In her bedroom again, after assuring herself that the cream silk jersey top and matching linen skirt she’d worn to travel in would do for her explorations, she reapplied eyeliner and mascara, brushing a bronze gloss over her generous mouth. She wasn’t beautiful, she thought, but her heart-shaped features did have a certain appeal. Thankfully her hair, which was naturally curly, didn’t require much more than a brush running through it. It bobbed just below the level of her shoulders and, although it was some time since she’d been able to afford highlights, there were still golden streaks in its honey-brown mass. Or were they grey? she fretted, leaning closer to the mirror. After what she’d been through, she wouldn’t have been surprised.
She made her way to the head of the stairs and started down, keeping a wary eye open for either Cary or her hostess. She would prefer not to run into either of them just yet and, as the gloomy hall appeared to be deserted, she headed swiftly towards what she hoped was the kitchen. And found Rafe Marchese lounging on a corner of the pine table, sharing a pot of tea with the housekeeper.
Juliet didn’t know who was the most surprised, herself or Josie. ‘Why—Miss Lawrence,’ she said awkwardly, getting up from her place at the table to face her. ‘I was just about to bring up your tea.’
‘My tea?’
Juliet now saw the tray that had been prepared and left on one of the cabinets. There was a cup and saucer, milk and sugar, and a plate containing wafer-thin cucumber sandwiches and tiny butterfly cakes. Only the teapot was missing and she guessed Josie had been interrupted by her visitor.
If Rafe was disconcerted by her sudden appearance, he didn’t show it. He didn’t even get up, she noticed, merely raised the mug he was drinking from to his mouth and regarded her enigmatically across the rim.
‘Yes, your tea.’ Josie was anxious to assure her guest that it was all ready for her. ‘But as you’re down, would you like me to serve it in the drawing room instead?’
‘Oh—um—’ after the fiasco of lunch, Juliet had no desire to repeat the experience ‘—couldn’t I just have it here? With you and—Mr Marchese.’
‘Rafe,’ he said flatly, putting his mug down on the table. He had no desire to get to know this young woman any better than he did already, but he couldn’t ignore her. ‘I think Josie would prefer it if you allowed her to serve you in the drawing room.’
Juliet’s lips pursed. ‘And I’d prefer to have it here,’ she insisted smoothly. ‘Is there a problem with that?’
‘Of course not, Miss Lawrence.’ Josie was clearly disturbed by the sudden hostility between them. ‘If you’ll just give me a minute to boil the kettle and make some fresh tea—’
‘What you’re having is fine.’ Juliet sent Rafe a challenging look. Then, with what he thought was a reflection of his cousin’s arrogance, ‘I thought you’d left, Mr Marchese.’
‘I came back,’ said Rafe calmly. Then, mimicking her defiance, ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
Her cheeks darkened with becoming colour, proving she wasn’t as confident as she’d like to appear. ‘It’s not my place to comment,’ she retorted tartly, but he couldn’t let her get away with that.
‘But you have,’ he pointed out, picking up his mug again, and Josie clasped her hands together in dismay.
‘Rafe, please,’ she said, her eyes wide and appealing. ‘I’m sure Miss Lawrence was only making conversation.’ She hurriedly took the cup and saucer from the tray and lifted the teapot she’d been using. ‘How do you like your tea, Miss Lawrence? With milk and sugar or a slice of lemon?’
Juliet felt embarrassed. There’d been no tension in the room when she’d arrived, but there was now. And it was all
