has explained about the honeymoon having to be cancelled,’ she said stiffly, turning quickly as she saw the painful reproach in his eyes. ‘If you’d told me sooner, Olivia, I could have arranged...’ She lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug. ‘But there’s plenty of food in the freezer. You won’t starve.’
‘Olivia has arranged a hamper...’ James French took hold of his new wife’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. ‘She’s been quite amazing.’
‘Amazing,’ Lizzie agreed dully. She had helped, encouraged, supported her father for the better part of five difficult years, until the long black tunnel of depression he had been living in had begun to open out and he had been able to begin to work again, to live again. But Olivia had picked up the telephone and ordered a hamper from Fortnum’s and she was ‘amazing’. Well, Olivia would soon discover that life at Dove Court was not the bed of roses that she had obviously imagined.
The object of her speculation was talking quietly to Noah. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask.’
‘It’s no trouble. Just forget about everything but yourself and James.’ Noah caught Lizzie’s blue eyes regarding him sceptically and he straightened. ‘Shall we go?’ he said abruptly.
‘If you’re quite ready,’ she murmured, and reluctantly submitted to the hollow ritual of cheek-kissing.
‘Lizzie...’ Olivia hesitated for just a moment under her expressionless eyes, then shook her head. ‘Nothing. Just...enjoy yourself,’ she urged. ‘You haven’t had much fun...’
‘Fun’. The word rang tauntingly in her ears as they made their way back to the house.
‘Noah...’ Olivia had followed them, and her summons made him pause and turn.
‘Get in the car, Elizabeth. I’ll be with you in a minute.’
She made her way towards the vintage drophead Bentley, gleaming silver, its top down in the glorious summer sunshine. Her pink dress lay on the back seat along with Noah’s top hat. He was welcome to it.
She kept walking until she was in the cooler shade of the garage. Her car was at the far end and she climbed in, fitted the key and turned it. The engine obediently whirred, but did not catch. She tried again. Shock was beginning to overtake her. She was trembling, and her fingers slipped on the key as she tried for the third time to start the car.
The door beside her opened and she leaned back in the driving seat, admitting defeat. ‘What have you done?’ she asked.
‘Anticipated your every move.’ Noah leaned against the roof of her Metro and held out a small metal object for her inspection. ‘It’s called a rotor arm. I’m afraid you car won’t start without it.’
She stared uncomprehendingly for a moment. ‘How did you know?’
‘You lied about the luggage. Since you were planning to leave, this was the obvious place to look. I’ve already moved it to my car.’ He stood back, his face expressionless. ‘Shall we go?’
‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ she protested. ‘I’m going to stay with a friend in Islington for a few days until I sort myself out. And I’m perfectly capable of driving myself.’
‘Nonsense,’ he snapped. ‘You’re in no condition to drive anywhere.’
‘I’m just fine.’
‘Really?’ He grasped her wrist and held her hand in front of her eyes. ‘You’re shaking, Elizabeth. And how many glasses of champagne did you drink?’
‘I wasn’t counting,’ she snapped back.
‘There was no need to. I don’t imagine you were planning to drive yourself down the M40 into London on this Saturday evening. You were going to let Peter Hallam do that.’
Damn the man! Why did he have to be right about everything? She took a deep breath. ‘You can give me a lift,’ she compromised.
‘How generous of you.’ And, with an ironic little twist to his mouth, he straightened and opened the door wide for her. She slipped out of her seat and fled across the yard to his car, not waiting for him to open the door.
‘Ready?’ he asked as he climbed in beside her. She took a last long look at the garden and the people standing about in small knots—friends, relations, people she had known all her life. Then she saw Peter. As if he could feel her eyes upon him, he turned and stared at her. Then Fran followed his glance and she also stared at Lizzie, her brow drawn down in a small frown. Noah had seen it too.
‘Fasten your seatbelt, Elizabeth,’ he said abruptly. She did so, then sank back against the old leather and closed her eyes. ‘And take off your hat, or you’ll lose it. There’s a scarf in the glove box.’
Would she never have a moment of peace to shed a tear for what she had thrown away? Apparently not. When she made no immediate move to obey he leaned across and removed her hat for her, flipping it onto the rear seat to keep his top hat company. Then he opened the glove compartment and thrust a long silk chiffon scarf at her.
‘Here.’ She continued to stare fiercely at her gloves, unwilling to betray her weakness, but he caught her chin and turned her face towards him. She blinked furiously, but too late.
For a moment he stared as the tears welled onto her cheeks, then with an impatient gesture he wiped them from her face with the pads of his thumbs. And he wrapped the scarf around her hair in a movement so practised that she was certain he had done it a hundred times before, holding her against his chest as he tied it at the nape of her neck. ‘Just how old are you, Elizabeth?’ he asked.
‘Twenty-one.’ Her voice was muffled against the lapel of his morning coat, her ear only hearing the steady thump of his heart.
‘As old as that?’ The doubt in his voice touched off a dangerous spark of anger, driving her away from the deceptive comfort of his broad shoulder. She fought down an intense desire to slap the man, but only because she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would slap her back. ‘Far too old to be mooning over a calf-love. Did you actually believe him when he said he would marry you?’ She stared at him. ‘Surely your mother told you that a young man in the grip of his libido will promise anything to get his way?’
Dark colour seared her cheek-bones. ‘Doubtless you speak from experience.’
‘No, Elizabeth. I’m old enough to take care not to make promises I have no intention of keeping.’
‘I can imagine. Although your status as a confirmed bachelor is so public I can’t imagine that expectations on that score can be very high.’
‘I have never failed to make my position clear.’
‘That’s all right, then.’
‘It saves complications.’
‘What about love? Doesn’t that complicate things?’ she demanded.
‘Love?’ He turned away, switched on the ignition, pressed the starter and the car purred into life. ‘I learned a long time ago to distrust the word. Much safer to treat the whole idea as a spectator sport—on a par with bungee-jumping or free-fall parachuting.’
‘Didn’t
