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      ‘Always a law unto herself,’ he said and smiled. ‘What else has been happening?’

      ‘I have a list.’ She handed it to him. ‘And Ted Jackson says work on your studio will begin tomorrow.’

      ‘Well, that’s good news. At the moment I’m renting, which isn’t ideal, but I can’t be too choosy as I’m preparing for an exhibition in the autumn.’

      Her eyes widened. ‘Then you’re really embarking on a new career?’

      ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just returning to the life I had planned before Descent intervened. You’re surprised?’

      She said quickly, ‘It’s really none of my concern.’ She pointed to the shelves. ‘All these sample books arrived for you.’

      ‘I haven’t time to look at them properly now. I’ll take them with me, and let you know my choices.’

      She nodded and produced the envelope. ‘Also Miss Culham—Fiona—brought you this.’

      She watched him open it and glance over the single sheet of paper it contained. She saw his mouth tighten, then he refolded the paper and tucked it back into the envelope.

      He said, ‘So, she was here in person.’ He paused, studying Tavy’s swift flush. ‘Did she upset you?’

      ‘She was hardly sweetness and light.’ She bit her lip. ‘She’s got my old job at the school.’

      ‘That figures,’ Jago returned laconically. He gave her another, more searching glance. ‘Is it a problem?’

      She looked away defensively. ‘Not really. After all I always knew I wasn’t the daughter-in-law of choice.’

      ‘But if that’s what you still want—hang in there. It could happen.’

      She frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

      ‘Patrick,’ he said. ‘And you. Plus, of course, the lovely Fiona. Because it won’t last between them. In fact, if you want, I can guarantee it.’

      ‘How?’

      He shrugged casually. ‘By making a play for her myself.’

      ‘No!’ She had no idea where the word came from, or the passion that drove it but it rocked her back on her heels. While the quizzical lift of Jago’s eyebrows increased the warmth of her face to burning.

      ‘Really?’ he drawled. ‘So, what’s the objection?’

      There was an odd note in his voice which gave Tavy the sudden feeling she was teetering on the edge of a precipice she had not known existed.

      She said, stammering a little, ‘Because it would be cruel—unless you were serious about her.’ She paused. ‘Are you?’

      ‘Not in the slightest,’ he said. ‘Any more than she’s serious about Patrick.’

      ‘That’s absurd. She came back here to be with him.’

      Jago shook his head. ‘She came back because she couldn’t afford her London lifestyle, and was being pressured by her parents. In order to keep her around, her father has even become a silent partner in that school, supplying her with a career and a future husband in one move.

      ‘He even wants to buy a piece of my land as a playing field, to save the little darlings a walk to the village. I refused his first offer. This is the second,’ he added, putting the letter in his pocket. ‘I’m seriously tempted to see how high he’s prepared to go.

      ‘Although he’s wasting his time and money, with me and Fiona, who has no intention of staying around once the divorce is finalised.’

      ‘How can you possibly know that?’

      ‘Something she let slip on our way to the Willow Tree that night, along with a none too subtle hint that she was available.’

      His smile was charming but edged. ‘And the offer’s still there, so, if you want Patrick, all you have to do is be patient. Give him a shoulder to cry on and wait for him to see the light.’

      Tavy drew a shaky breath. ‘That’s disgusting.’

      ‘And I thought I was being practical.’

      ‘But what about your...Barbie,’ she demanded, stumbling over the name. ‘Will she understand the...practicalities, when she finds out?’

      ‘If she finds out,’ he said calmly, ‘she’ll undoubtedly be furious with me. But it wouldn’t be the first time.’

      ‘I can imagine.’ She shook her head. ‘People like you. How do you live with yourselves?’

      ‘Money,’ he said, ‘is a great palliative.’ He paused. ‘And while we’re being practical, did you warn your father you’d be working late and he’d have to self-cater?’

      She shook her head. ‘He’s playing chess tonight with a friend in the village. Supper is included.’

      ‘In which case, you’re having dinner with me.’

      She gasped. ‘I’m doing nothing of the kind. I’d rather...’ She stopped abruptly.

      ‘You’d rather starve,’ Jago supplied silkily. ‘But I’m sure that would contravene some Factories Act or Child Labour ruling.’

      She said sharply, ‘I’m not a child.’

      ‘Then stop behaving like one. We have matters concerning the house to discuss, so treat it as a business dinner. I’ve brought food with me.’

      She stared at him. ‘You have? Why?’

      He said slowly, ‘Because I suddenly decided I’d like to dine in my own home. Idiotic but true.’ There was a silence, then he added more briskly, ‘There’s a rug in the Jeep, so we’ll have a picnic. I suggest the dining room floor.’

      She said jerkily, ‘No—I won’t. I couldn’t.’

      ‘Because you think I won’t keep my hands to myself?’ Jago sounded amused. ‘Darling, you’re my employee so anything untoward and you can sue me for sexual harassment. You’ll never need to work again.

      ‘Also,’ he went on, ‘there’s a lot of serious panelling in the dining room. It’s hardly the right setting for an orgy. And as you so rightly pointed out, there is Barbie to consider.

      ‘Anyway,’ he added piously. ‘Aren’t you expected to welcome repentant sinners back to the fold? I’m sure your father would think so.’

      She bit her lip again, aware of a perilous bubble of laughter suddenly rising inside her. Even though there was nothing to laugh at. ‘But only if the repentance is genuine.’ She paused. ‘Besides, you obviously thought you’d have the place to yourself and I’m butting in.’

      He said gently, ‘If you were, I wouldn’t have suggested you stay. Now I’ll go and get the food while you finish your printing.’

      It seemed the choice had been taken out of her hands, thought Tavy, her disapproval—not only of his total lack of morality but also his high-handed arrogance—tempered by the realisation that her sandwich had been a long time ago and she was, in fact, extremely hungry.

      She was closing down the computer when Jago called to her.

      She sat for a moment, staring into space, then whispered, as she stood up, ‘I should not be doing this.’

      She arrived at the dining room door and stopped, her brows lifting in sheer incredulity. ‘Candles?’

      There were four of them, burning with steady golden flames in the tall silver candlesticks placed at a safe distance round the corners of the rug.

      ‘My predecessor sold the chandelier along with everything else, so the room needed some kind of light.’ Jago was kneeling, unpacking

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