LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter 11

      Jed picked her up in a Golf, top of the range, and obviously a hire car.

      When he saw her admiring its plush leather interior, he explained. ‘I’m never in one place for very long.’ There was more regret in his voice. ‘So there seems little point in getting a car of my own. I just hire one wherever I am.’

      It was one more indication of his peripatetic lifestyle.

      ‘Where are you staying, while you’re around here I mean?’

      ‘Oh, haven’t I said? The Lord of the Manor.’ He steered the car out of its tight spot with ease. ‘Do you know it?’

      Millie suppressed a laugh. ‘Yes, I know it. We’re not going there for dinner, are we?’

      ‘No fear,’ Jed said stoutly. ‘The food’s dire. I can’t believe the place gets any business.’

      ‘Neither can I. The Simpson family, who run it, have had it for donkey’s years but don’t like spending money on it. I haven’t been in for ages.’ She glanced at his profile while he drove. He had a very lovely high-bridged nose and enviably clear skin. ‘What’s it like?’

      ‘The public rooms are okay, if you like shabby-chic that’s original Jacobean and not designer. But my room is a nightmare. Hot water at random times, the windows have gaps around them bigger than the frames and non-existent heating. I only had enough hot water for the quickest of showers tonight. I hope I don’t smell.’

      Using it as an excuse, Millie leaned over and sniffed. He smelled heavenly, as usual. ‘No, you don’t smell of anything you shouldn’t,’ she said, taking in a lungful of something woody. It made a change to be with a man who smelled of something other than Old Spice, as Arthur invariably did. Along with wet dog on occasion.

      Jed concentrated as he turned right onto the A35 before adding, ‘But it’s the lack of Wi-Fi that really irritates me. The place claims to have superfast broadband but I haven’t seen any evidence of it so far.’

      ‘To be fair, the internet is notoriously slow around here. I’ve never been sure why. Too many hills, maybe? In some places it’s hard to get a signal on your mobile, let alone anything else.’

      ‘I’ve noticed.’ He flashed a swift grin. ‘How on earth do you manage? To run a business, I mean.’

      ‘Oh, we do okay. Sometimes it’s even quite nice to do things the old-fashioned way. You know, on the landline.’ She pulled a face. ‘Or by post.’

      ‘Do you know, I think I’ve had better reception in the middle of the desert than Dorset or Devon?’ Then he heard, properly, what she’d said. ‘Are you poking fun at me?’

      ‘Not at all, but don’t you think it’s good to occasionally be away from all that social media and stuff? I can’t see the point of posting pictures of what you’ve had for lunch. Fries my brain sometimes.’ Millie felt herself tense. They were approaching the spot where her parents had died. Even after all these years, she still couldn’t pass it without grief stealing in.

      ‘I think you’re delightfully and gorgeously old-fashioned, Millie. And I know what you mean, but customers nowadays expect to be connected to a fast service all the time. And moan like hell if they can’t.’ He gunned the Golf’s engine and overtook expertly. He must have noticed her clenched fists. ‘Are you alright? Not a nervous passenger?’

      They were past. It was okay. ‘I’m fine.’ She forced herself to relax and to focus on more pleasant things. On the here and now. On the fact that Jed had called her gorgeous. Well, sort of. ‘So, if you’re not treating me to an evening of dubious gastronomic delight at the Lord, where are we going tonight?’

      ‘You’ll see.’ With a smile, Jed flicked on some music and they didn’t speak again.

      It turned out to be a country-house hotel on the edge of Dorchester. As Jed swung the car into the car park, he asked, ‘French. Is that alright with you? It’s one of my favourite countries and I love the food. This place was recommended to me, so I hope it lives up to its reputation.’

      They parked between a Bentley and a Porsche. Millie looked around in dismay. She should have guessed it would be an expensive sort of place. She was going to be completely under-dressed in leggings and flowery mini-dress.

      Jed read her panic. ‘You look beautiful. You always do. Don’t worry and try to relax. I want this to be a real treat for you. Thought it might make a change for you not to cook. I only hope the food comes up to your standards.’

      Millie felt his appreciative gaze on her and blushed. She added ‘beautiful’ to his list of compliments and the glow inside her spread.

      The passenger door was opened by a liveried car-park attendant who murmured a reverent, ‘Good evening, madam.’ Millie tried not to giggle and looked up at the hotel’s subtly lit Georgian facade. She wondered just what she’d got herself into.

      Her recollection of the evening was of soft music, good wine, fantastically complicated food and impeccable service. From the moment she stepped from the car she wasn’t aware of having to lift a finger or even open a door. All evening her needs were not only met but anticipated. Once in the lounge, a soft-footed waiter presented her with a glass of champagne and another brought a tiny canapé of salmon gravlax. Seated at a table, covered in a snowy white cloth, an amuse

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