‘How lovely to see you!’ she exclaimed as Bel got out of the car.
Defying the heat in a mauve twin-set and pearls, she gave her future daughter-in-law a quick hug before rattling on in her usual non-stop, staccato fashion.
‘Roderick isn’t home yet, I’m afraid, and I have to pop into the rectory. Such a nuisance. But you won’t mind taking care of yourself, will you? You’re in the rose room as usual.
‘I’ve left the front door open for you. Leave your car where it is; Thomas will move it later. Tell Maggie to make you a pot of tea and some sandwiches to tide you over. Must dash…’
She trotted off at speed towards an elderly Bentley parked in front of a stable block long since converted into garages.
Smiling, Bel took her case from the car and, leaving the keys in the ignition, made her way to the house.
As she entered the long, oak-panelled hall Margaret McDougal appeared and asked cheerfully, ‘You’ll be wanting some tea?’
‘I’d love a cup. When I’ve put my case in my room I’ll come down to the kitchen, if you like, and save your legs.’
As soon as Bel reached the pleasant, familiar room, with its rose-patterned wallpaper and light fashionable furniture, she unpacked and made sure the present she was carrying was safe.
A Jesse Harland figurine to add to Daphne and Roger Bentinck’s priceless collection, it was simple and oddly moving—a boyish figure of a young girl in jeans, the head tilted slightly, the gaze shy but steady.
Roderick had suggested that, to get the maximum effect, instead of having it gift-wrapped it should simply appear on the Bentincks’ breakfast table the following morning, and she had agreed.
Putting it carefully on the dressing table, Bel went to wash her hands and run a comb through her hair before making her way down to the huge kitchen.
On the oak table, large enough to have graced a medieval banqueting hall, Maggie had set out a tray with a freshly brewed pot of tea, a plate of dainty sandwiches and a selection of home-made cake.
‘That looks wonderful,’ Bel said appreciatively.
‘Then sit yourself down.’
‘Won’t you have a cup with me?’ Bel asked.
‘Aye, I might that.’
Maggie filled two cups with the steaming amber liquid, and the women sipped in amicable silence.
Peckish, after a salad lunch, and with no need to calorie-count to keep her slim figure, Bel ate a couple of the sandwiches and a piece of cake. She was on her second cup of tea when the door opened and Roderick came in.
Though he couldn’t be termed handsome, be was a pleasant-looking man, with fine brown hair, a thin, intelligent face and clear hazel eyes.
His small features, slightly sloping shoulders, and neat hands and feet made him appear somewhat prissy.
Which he wasn’t
He was open-minded, humorous, and excellent company, and Bel had liked him since they’d met at a business conference early in the spring.
‘So there you are.’ He stooped to kiss her cheek. ‘I saw the car, and when you were nowhere about I thought you must have gone for a walk or something.’
Dropping into the seat Maggie had vacated, he asked, ‘I take it you saw Mother? Did she tell you she’s had to invite Suzy for the weekend?’
Without waiting for an answer to either question, he went on, ‘It was a bit awkward, as her parents are two of our oldest friends. When they were invited, it was understood that Suzy would still be abroad. But she came home yesterday, and Mother had no option but to extend the invitation to her. I hope you don’t mind?’
‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Bel told him, while admitting silently that she would have preferred the other girl to be safely abroad.
It wasn’t so much that she didn’t like Suzy, as that Suzy didn’t like her.
Barely eighteen, and spoilt rotten, the pretty, petite redhead hero-worshipped Roderick and had been devastated when she’d lost out to another woman.
Unable to control her tongue or her spite, she had made one weekend visit very uncomfortable. Sensibly, Bel had ignored all the gibes and, refusing to enter the fray, had done her best to keep the peace.
But she wasn’t looking forward to a rematch, especially with a houseful of strangers for an audience.
Clearly concerned that that shouldn’t happen, Roderick added carefully, ‘I have every intention of having a straight talk with her as soon as she gets here. I’m fond of Suzy, we’ve known each other all our lives, but I won’t have you upset or my parents’ anniversary spoiled.’
By eight o’clock that Friday evening most of the guests had arrived and been made welcome, including Suzy and her doting middle-aged parents.
It soon appeared that Roderick had been as good as his word, for when the redhead, looking both older and younger than her years in a black satin mini-dress, joined the party, she gave her rival a small, tight smile and then a wide berth.
Which suited Bel just fine.
Wearing a white dress with shoestring straps and a full skirt, her flawless skin a pale gold, her ash-blonde hair in a shining coil on top of her head, Bel looked lovely—cool and elegant and poised.
Her fiancé, debonair in evening dress, showed her off to his friends and members of the family she hadn’t yet met with undisguised pride.
A serve-yourself bar and buffet had been set up in the large conservatory and, the evening being fine and warm, there was dancing on the lantern-lit terrace.
Bel was busy enjoying the evening, and with the party atmosphere drinking more champagne than she was used to, when she felt an uncomfortable prickle of awareness, and sensed that someone was watching her.
Lifting her gleaming head, she glanced around.
A short distance away, his back to the light, a tall, well-built man in immaculate evening dress was standing, his eyes fixed on her.
She saw his hair was crisp and dark, but his face was in shadow. Even so, she was sure there was something about him…something oddly familiar…
As the thought crossed her mind his white teeth flashed in a smile. ‘How nice to see you again so soon.’ His voice was low and intimate, slightly husky. ‘Come and dance with me.’
Before Bel could gather her scattered wits, he had drawn her into the throng of dancers.
He was a good six inches taller than she was, Bel noted abstractedly, with shoulders wide as a barn door and narrow hips.
‘I really don’t…’ The protest died on her lips as they moved into the light and she saw his handsome, strongboned face, with its chiselled mouth, well-marked brows and thickly-lashed eyes.
Eyes that, ever since they’d looked into hers that lunchtime, had haunted her.
Though she felt as if she’d fallen down a lift shaft, somehow her legs kept moving to the rhythm of the slow foxtrot. In a strangled voice, she exclaimed, ‘You! What are you doing here?’
He looked sardonically amused. ‘I was invited.’
‘Your being here is too much of a coincidence.’ Gazing into that lean, compellingly attractive face, she spoke her confused thoughts aloud.
‘Not at all,’ he corrected calmly. ‘Our meeting in the restaurant was a coincidence. This one was carefully planned.’
‘I really don’t know what you mean…’ What