Bedded For The Italian's Pleasure. Anne Mather
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at her. ‘It’s not true?’
Lady Elinor smiled a little drily. ‘Ah, that would be telling, wouldn’t it, Miss Lawrence? Why don’t you tell me how you and Cary came to meet again? It seems such a coincidence. Do you visit the casino, by any chance?’
‘The casino?’ Juliet was taken aback.
‘Yes. That is where my grandson works, isn’t it?’ She pulled a wry face. ‘I can’t imagine how he persuaded them to employ him after the fiasco he was involved in in South Africa. You know about that, I suppose?’
‘Well, yes.’
Juliet didn’t know what else to say and for once she was relieved to hear heavy footsteps crossing the hall. A moment later Cary appeared in the doorway, somewhat overdressed in satin-seamed black trousers and a dark red dinner jacket.
He came into the room with a slight swagger, as if he expected to be complimented on his appearance. But all Lady Elinor did was raise her dark eyebrows at him. And when Hitchins, who had been asleep in his basket at her feet, awoke and started growling, she bent and lifted the little animal onto her lap.
‘Grandmama.’ Cary greeted her politely, gave the dog a less-friendly look and then came to seat himself beside Juliet. ‘You’re looking delectable this evening,’ he said, bestowing an unwelcome kiss on her neck just below her ear. ‘Hmm, and you smell delectable, too. Is it Chanel?’
‘No.’ Juliet refrained from saying that it was a simple herbal essence that wasn’t half as expensive. ‘Your grandmother and I have been waiting for you.’
‘Sorry.’ Cary would have kissed her again, but Juliet managed to avoid it. ‘If I’d known you were missing me, I’d have been much quicker, believe me.’
‘She didn’t say she’d been missing you, Cary,’ observed the old lady a little maliciously. ‘As a matter of fact, Juliet and I have been having a very interesting conversation.’
‘You have?’ Cary looked a little uneasy now.
‘Yes.’ His grandmother smiled her satisfaction. ‘She was just about to tell me where the two of you renewed your acquaintance.’
Juliet sighed, aware that Cary had stiffened beside her. This was an eventuality they hadn’t covered, though she realised in hindsight it had been foolish not to do so. ‘We—er—we met at the home of mutual friends,’ she lied, the glance she cast in Cary’s direction warning him not to contradict her. ‘It was the Bainbridges, Cary, wasn’t it? John and Deborah. We’ve both known them for years.’
‘Yes, the Bainbridges,’ agreed Cary gratefully, but Juliet, hearing the falseness in his tone, could well understand why Lady Elinor had chosen to investigate his employment for herself. It was to be hoped the old lady wasn’t a friend of the Bainbridges, too. Debbie would be most confused to hear that Juliet was planning on getting married again without telling her. Not to mention meeting her future fiancé at her house.
‘And that was when?’
The old lady wasn’t finished yet and this time Cary intervened. ‘Oh—it must be over six months ago!’ he exclaimed expansively, inspiring a silent groan from Juliet.
‘Over six months?’ queried his grandmother at once, as Juliet had known she would. ‘So why haven’t I heard anything about it? When you were down—let me see, six weeks ago—you made no mention of the fact that you were thinking of getting engaged, Cary.’
Cary looked blank-faced now and Juliet knew that, once again, she’d have to come to his rescue. ‘That was my fault, Lady Elinor,’ she lied, hoping her smile would hide her blushes. ‘I’m afraid I asked Cary to keep our relationship to himself. With it being such a comparatively short time since my divorce, I didn’t want anyone to think I was rushing into marriage again.’
The older woman’s lips thinned. ‘Even though you are,’ she commented drily, and Juliet gave a rueful shrug. But, fortunately, Josie returned at that moment to say that supper was ready and Cary got gratefully to his feet.
The rest of the evening progressed without further embarrassment. Juliet couldn’t decide whether Lady Elinor had been satisfied with the answers they’d given her or merely biding her time until morning. Whatever, the meal—roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with a fruit compote for dessert—passed without incident, and afterwards Juliet had the perfect excuse to retire early.
‘It’s been a very long day,’ she said, when Cary chose to question her departure, and, meeting her narrowed gaze, he evidently decided not to push his luck.
‘Yeah, you get a good night’s rest,’ he said, catching her hand as she passed him and raising it to his lips. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, darling. Sleep well.’
In fact, Juliet slept only fitfully. Although the bed was comfortable, it was a strange bed, and the knowledge that there were still three more days to go weighed heavily on her mind. After tossing and turning for hours she eventually rose just as the sky was lightening, padding barefoot across to the windows and peering out.
The view was calming. Sunrise on the estuary, and the mudflats were a veritable hive of activity. She’d never seen so many birds in one place before, cackling and squawking as they vied with one another for the grubs the receding tide had left behind.
It looked as if it was going to be a fine day. The clouds, such as they were, were thinning, and a delicate haze was lifting to reveal a pale blue horizon. Juliet knew a sudden urge to be outside, far from another round of interrogation. For no matter how amiable Lady Elinor had been the night before, she was fairly sure her curiosity hadn’t been totally assuaged.
In the bathroom, the hand shower ran lukewarm, but it was better than nothing. Chilled, but refreshed, Juliet dressed in jeans and a V-necked olive-green sweater, pulled on Converse boots, and left her room.
As on the night before, there seemed to be no one about, which wasn’t really surprising. It was barely seven o’clock. Much too early for Lady Elinor to want breakfast.
The kitchen was chilly. The Aga, which had evidently kept the place warm the afternoon before, was cold now and blinds still covered the windows. Juliet opened the blinds and, locating the kettle, set it to boil. If she could just find a jar of instant coffee, she thought, she’d be happy.
She found what she was looking for in the third cupboard she opened, and by then the kettle was boiling. She put two teaspoons of coffee in a mug and then filled it with hot water. Then she turned to a rather elderly fridge, looking for milk.
She had her back to the door when a key turned in the lock and it opened. She swung round in surprise to find Rafe Marchese letting himself into the house. He was carrying a couple of bags and the delicious aroma of newly baked bread came to her nostrils. She had thought she wasn’t hungry, but she’d been wrong.
‘Making yourself at home?’ he remarked lazily, putting the bags down on the pine table. He was wearing khaki cargo pants this morning and a navy body-warmer over an open-collared Oxford shirt. There was a disturbing glimpse of dark body hair showing in the opening, and his shirtsleeves were rolled back to display forearms that were deeply tanned and also spiced with hair.
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