he was saying. ‘I’m just thankful that you and Milly are all right. No, it’s fine. I can handle it. I’ll book a table somewhere.’ He listened for a moment, then nodded. ‘Make sure you both get properly checked over. Goodnight, Fran. I’ll be in touch.’
He saw Tallie and grimaced ruefully. ‘My caterers,’ he said. ‘A car came out of a side street without stopping and ran straight into them. They’re not badly injured, they reckon, just bruises and shock, but their van’s a write-off and so, of course, is tonight’s meal.’
‘Oh.’ Tallie stared at him. ‘So what will you do?’
He shrugged. ‘Try and find a restaurant that can feed six of us, although frankly I haven’t much hope at this short notice.’
‘Can’t you cook something yourself?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘You’ve surely got enough time.’
‘Sadly, I lack the skill,’ he said. ‘Eggs are my cut-off point—scrambled, boiled or fried. Hardly adequate under the circumstances.’ His brief sigh held irritation and frustration in equal amounts. ‘I don’t suppose you number a chef among your London acquaintances—someone who’d like to earn a few extra bob before the evening shift?’
Out of nowhere, Tallie heard herself say, ‘I can cook.’
There was a silence, then he said politely, ‘I’m sure you can. What were you going to suggest—spaghetti Bolognese?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘And you’re being patronising again, just when I’m trying to help.’
She paused, then added levelly, ‘In any case, a really good ragu sauce would take far too long to make. My mother’s emergency stand-by dish—Mediterranean chicken with saffron rice—is much quicker, and it tastes fantastic. I suggest something really simple like smoked salmon for a starter, and a fruit flan from the deli round the corner as dessert. Chantilly cream would make it a bit more special.’
He said slowly, ‘You’re quite serious about this, aren’t you?’
‘You were entitled to throw me out a week ago,’ she said, ‘but you didn’t. This makes us quits.’
Mark Benedict took a deep breath. ‘Then I can only say I’d be eternally grateful. Write down all the things you need and I’ll get them.’
Tallie raised her eyebrows. ‘You mean you can cope with supermarkets?’
The green eyes glinted at her. ‘Now who’s being patronising?’
He took the list she eventually handed him, reading it through in silence, then glancing at her, brows raised. ‘Anchovies? I don’t think Sonia likes them.’
‘Is that Miss Rest and Recreation?’ The words were out before she could stop them. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry,’ she added, flushing as she saw his mouth harden. ‘It’s really none of my business.’
‘Hang on to that thought,’ he suggested unsmilingly.
‘Yes—yes, of course. And the anchovies dissolve in cooking.’ Embarrassment was making her gabble and she knew it. ‘Your—your friend won’t even know they’re there, I promise. Or me either, for that matter,’ she went on hastily.
‘You’re planning to dissolve too?’
She bit her lip. ‘No,’ she returned stonily. ‘Just maintain my usual low profile.’ She paused. ‘After all, you have to admit that I’ve hardly been obtrusive this week.’
‘That,’ said Mark Benedict, ‘is a matter of opinion. But we won’t debate it now because I have to go shopping.’
When he’d gone, Tallie went into the dining room. She found the elegant linen table mats and the napkins that matched them, gave the silver cutlery and the tall wineglasses with their impossibly slender stems a careful polish, and set places for six people.
There were three dinner services in the tall cupboards that flanked the fireplace and she chose the simplest one—plain white china delicately edged in silver. Because she couldn’t be sure how long it was since it had been used, she tied a tea towel round her waist in lieu of an apron and gave the plates, cups and dishes a swift but thorough wash.
She was just drying the last piece when Mark Benedict returned.
‘You’ve been busy,’ he commented, pausing at the dining room door before joining her in the kitchen.
‘You did say six people?’
He nodded. ‘My cousin Penny, with her current companion, Justin Brent, two pals of mine, Charlie and Diana Harris, plus Sonia, of course, and myself.’ He paused. ‘Although, you are naturally welcome to join us,’ he added courteously.
‘You’re very kind,’ she returned with equal politeness. ‘But I’ve eaten already.’ And even if I was starving, I’d still say no.
She began to unpack the heavy carriers, almost disappointed to discover that he hadn’t forgotten a thing.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ He was propped in the doorway, watching her, his presence making the kitchen seem oddly smaller and more cramped.
‘No, thanks. It’s all down to me now.’ She hesitated. ‘Although I wasn’t sure if you’d want to use those lovely candlesticks on the sideboard, and whether or not there were any candles for them.’
‘A romantic thought,’ he said. ‘But I think we’ll stick to the wall lighting.’
‘Just as you wish.’ Tallie began to chop onions, praying at the same time that his frankly disturbing scrutiny wouldn’t cause her to lose a finger. As she reached for the garlic press, she said with faint asperity, ‘There’s no need to stand over me. I didn’t include rat poison on my list, so don’t worry.’
‘Do I give that impression? Actually, I’m simply admiring your efficiency.’
‘And checking at the same time that I really know what I’m doing.’ She gave him a steady look. ‘However, I’m not accustomed to an audience, so if you’re sufficiently reassured, maybe you could go and see to … wine and things.’
The firm lips twitched. ‘Wine and things it is, then,’ he murmured. ‘May I bring you a drink, Miss Paget, to assist in your labours?’
It occurred to her that she felt slightly drunk already and that she had the way he’d been watching her to thank for it.
She said rather primly, ‘I think I need all my concentration, thank you. But I do need some white wine for the sauce. Nothing too fancy,’ she added hastily.
Mark Benedict gave an easy shrug. ‘I was thinking of continuing the Mediterranean theme with some rather nice Orvieto. Will a slightly cheaper version do for cooking?’
She nodded, staring rather fiercely at the chicken joints she was extracting from their packaging.
‘And please try to relax, sweetheart,’ he added quietly. ‘You’re doing me a big favour, remember, not passing some crucial examination.’
Easy for him to say,
