sooner there. They have to be. The climate, you know—–’
‘Of course.’
‘As soon as the cause of death had been disclosed—they conducted a post-mortem, you see—the—the body—had to be disposed of. I chose cremation. It was what he would have wanted.’
‘My child, how awful for you! Having a funeral without any mourners!’
Sara shook her head. ‘There were mourners. The—the officials who—who knew him, and other press men—–’
‘All the same—–’ Harriet sighed. ‘There was no question of bringing his body back to England, I suppose?’
Sara pressed her lips together for a moment. ‘I don’t think he would have wanted that. He—he never regarded England as his home, not really. He was a nomad.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I think he probably subscribed to the theory that his life was like the arc of an arrow. He wanted to remain where it rested.’
Harriet nodded. ‘What can I say? You knew him so much better than anyone else. It had to be your decision.’
‘Yes.’
Sara sighed, and with a characteristic lift of her slim shoulders, Harriet shrugged the unpleasant topic aside. ‘Enough of that,’ she declared, and Sara was relieved she had not had to explain the circumstances of Charles Shelley’s death. For the present at least her aunt was prepared to let sleeping dogs lie, and Sara knew a sense of gratitude for her tact and understanding. Remembering what Jude had said about Aunt Harriet, she also felt a kindling of resentment. For whatever purpose, he had tried to influence her against her aunt, and she despised his reasons for doing so. He had almost succeeded in convincing her that her own opinion of Miss Ferrars was faulty, and that the only reason Harriet had for bringing her here was to satisfy some motive of her own.
‘So tell me,’ her aunt was continuing, ‘what have you been doing with yourself since you got back to England? You wrote that you’d been living with a friend. Did you find a job?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Sara grimaced, glad to be back on firm ground again. ‘Jobs aren’t that easy to come by, especially for someone like me, with practically no qualifications.’
‘No, you’re right.’ Harriet lifted her cup and saucer and leaned back comfortably in her chair, folding her legs in such a way that the side vents in her skirt exposed a considerable length of thigh. ‘So you were quite relieved to get my invitation? I haven’t dragged you away from any exciting career in London?’
‘Heavens, no!’ Sara’s mouth curved upward. ‘And I was pleased when you wrote to me. Although whether I’ll be suitable for the position you mentioned is something we’ll both have to find out.’
‘Oh, you’ll be suitable, won’t she, Harriet?’
The hateful taunting voice of the man who had driven her from the station suspended their conversation, and glancing round Sara saw him, propped idolently against the frame of the door. He, too, had discarded his leather jerkin to reveal a close-fitting navy silk shirt, and as she watched he straightened away from the door and sauntered confidently into the room.
‘Really, Jude, I wish you’d knock!’ exclaimed Harriet tersely, casting a half apologetic smile in Sara’s direction. ‘If you want some tea, you’ll have to get a cup. Janet didn’t expect us to be interrupted.’
‘No, ma’am. I see, ma’am. Sorry, to be sure, ma’am. But I’ve taken the miss’s cases to her room, and I wondered if there’d be anything else, ma’am!’
‘Really, Jude, you’re not very funny!’ Harriet’s expression mirrored her exasperation, but instead of ordering him out of the room as Sara had expected, she expelled her breath shortly, and resumed drinking her tea.
Jude stood between the chairs, his hands pushed carelessly into the low belt of his jeans. He exuded an air of raw masculinity in that essentially feminine room, and Sara, much as she would like to, could not quite forget it.
She cast a hasty glance up at him, only to find he was looking at Aunt Harriet, and Sara’s cheeks suddenly burned at the insolent manner of that appraisal. He was looking at her as if—as if—Sara’s mind could go no further. But she wished with all her might that Aunt Harriet would pull her skirt back over her knees.
‘Where were we?’
Harriet’s encouraging words brought Sara up with a start, and she clattered her cup noisily as she set it down on the trolley. ‘You—er—you were about to tell me what my duties will be,’ she prompted, trying to ignore their unwelcome visitor, and then looked up with irritation when he smothered a stifled laugh.
‘Jude, if you have nothing better to do than stand here, making a fool of me, I wish you would leave,’ Harriet declared, mildly Sara thought. ‘Don’t you have anything useful to accomplish? Like—changing for dinner, for example!’
‘Touché!’ Jude’s harsh mouth softened into irony. ‘Okay, Harriet, I’ll leave you to—instruct our guest in her—duties.’ He paused. ‘You might be interested to know, however, that she met the heir this afternoon.’
Sara blinked. What did he mean? She met the air? It didn’t make sense. But Harriet was looking up at him now with scarcely concealed agitation.
‘What do you mean?’ she exclaimed. ‘Jude, what have you done? How could she—how could Sara have met anyone between here and the station?’
Jude rocked back on his booted heels. ‘Hadley almost straddled the bonnet of the car,’ he remarked indifferently, and Sara realised he was referring to the accident they had almost had. ‘Crazy young idiot! He could have killed us all.’
‘Might I remind you, that “crazy young idiot” is only eight months younger than you, Jude,’ Harriet retorted. Then she turned back to Sara. ‘What did you think of Rupert, my dear? A handsome young man, isn’t he?’
‘He seemed very nice,’ Sara conceded, a little awkwardly, and Harriet nodded her agreement.
‘He is. He’s a little wild, of course, a little reckless, perhaps. But charming, nonetheless.’
‘Not to mention the fact that he’s heir to his father’s fortune,’ inserted Jude drily, and Sara suddenly realised what his earlier statement had meant. Not air, but heir. She had met the heir that afternoon.
Harriet ignored Jude’s mocking comment, and offered Sara more tea. ‘I—er—I’ve known Rupert’s father for a number of years,’ she said. ‘Lord Hadley, you know. This house was once part of the Hadley estate. You may have noticed Linden Court on your way here.’
Sara glanced awkwardly up at Jude, then she nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, I did,’ she confirmed. ‘It looks a beautiful building.’
‘It is.’ Harriet’s mouth curved, whether reminiscently or not Sara couldn’t quite judge, but for a few moments she was silent, thinking. ‘I’ve always loved it. Ever since my father bought Knight’s Ferry.’
‘More than three decades ago,’ inserted Jude flatly, bringing Harriet’s eyes back to him. ‘You’ll excuse me, I’m sure, if I go and check on Midnight. Unlike the rest of us, she can’t call for help.’
