Dishonourable Intent

‘Oh, yes.’ She flushed defensively. ‘But he was probably only guessing about me finding the window. I mean—it could have been kids who broke it. He could have been using the fact that he’d seen it was broken to his own advantage.’

‘Do you believe that?’

She moved her shoulders. ‘It’s an idea.’ She hesitated. ‘We do get some vandalism, too. Everybody does.’

‘We?’

Once again, he questioned her use of the pronoun, and she gave him an indignant look. ‘I meant as a general problem,’ she declared, taking refuge in her coffee. But she sensed he was still suspicious of the situation. Perhaps he thought she was running away from an unhappy affair.

‘I believe you said you’d reported the broken window to your landlady,’ Will remarked now, and she nodded.

‘Yes. She said she’d inform the police, and get her son-in-law to replace it.’ She coloured. ‘I didn’t tell her about the phone call. It’s not something I like to talk about.’

Will lay back in his chair, regarding her with a disturbing intensity, and she knew a desperate need to defend herself. ‘I’m not lying,’ she said. ‘If you don’t believe me, ring Mrs Bernstein. She’ll confirm that the window was broken, and she’ll be thrilled if you tell her who you are.’

Will’s mouth flattened. ‘I haven’t said I don’t believe you,’ he responded, lifting his shoulders. ‘On the contrary, I’m wondering what the hell I can do. There has to be some way to stop this bastard. Breaking and entering is still a crime, isn’t it? It was the last time I checked.’

Francesca sighed, but before she could make any reply the elderly butler came into the room, carrying a tray. ‘Good morning, madam,’ he said, with rather more confidence than he’d shown the night before. ‘I trust you slept well?’

‘Very well, thank you, Watkins,’ said Francesca, giving him a smile. It was good to know that Will’s staff didn’t hold their separation against her, and she flashed Watkins a diffident look as he placed a rack of toast, a fresh dish of butter and a new pot of coffee beside her plate.

The butler departed, and although she wasn’t particularly hungry Francesca helped herself to a piece of toast. Despite what she had told Will, she was not looking forward to going back to London, and her mouth dried at the thought of sleeping at the flat tonight.

‘Well, isn’t it?’ Will prompted now, and she realised he was still waiting for a reply. ‘Breaking and entering, I mean. You have to tell them what happened, Fran. It’s something concrete they can work on.’

‘Who? The police?’ Francesca buttered the toast and then reached for the marmalade. Anything to buy herself a bit of time. ‘You don’t understand, Will. I can’t prove who tried to get into the flat, can I? There are dozens—probably hundreds—of robberies every day. And as far as I could see nothing was stolen. So...’

Will’s nostrils flared. ‘But in the circumstances—’ Francesca shook her head. ‘I’m not the only woman who’s being harassed, Will. Like I said before, I probably overreacted. I just need to get myself together.’

He made a frustrated sound. ‘I could kill him!’

‘Yes, so could I,’ she responded lightly, firmly lifting the toast to her lips. But her throat dried as she tried to swallow the tiny corner she’d nibbled, and she had to take a mouthful of coffee to enable her to get it down.

Will regarded her consideringly. ‘So what are you going to do? When you get back, I mean. Would it help if you moved house?’

‘And go and live with people I don’t even know?’ protested Francesca, putting the toast down again. ‘Will, I’ve got to handle this. I can’t go running scared every time he makes a move.’

Will’s lips compressed. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Okay, I can appreciate your feelings, but you’ve got to appreciate mine. Dammit, last night you were in a state of almost mental collapse. Forgive me if I find this sudden appearance of confidence hard to take.’

‘I’m not confident.’ Francesca couldn’t let him think that. ‘But I can’t let him—let him beat me. After all, I can’t prove he’s committed any crime.’

‘Apart from attempting to break into your apartment, and threatening you, you mean?’ pointed out Will sardonically, and Francesca gave him a troubled look.

‘I don’t know if that was him,’ she insisted, taking another mouthful of her coffee. And at his snort of disbelief she added, ‘He’s never broken a window before.’

‘That’s what worries me,’ declared Will shortly. ‘How do you know what the bastard will do next?’

Francesca sucked in a breath. ‘Well, it’s not your problem, is it?’ she said, with determined brightness. ‘And I am grateful to you for letting me stay here last night. I guess I just let the whole thing get on top of me. Which reminds me, would you mind if I rang my boss at Teniko, to explain that I might not make it into the office today?’

Will came forward in his chair. ‘You can tell him you won’t make it into the office today, if you like,’ he asserted flatly. ‘For God’s sake, Fran, you don’t think I’m going to let you drive back today? It’s Friday, for pity’s sake. I suggest you leave any heroics until Monday. Spend the weekend here at the Abbey. Don’t worry; no one’s going to touch you here, and at least it will give you a break.’

Francesca swallowed. ‘You’d let me spend the weekend at the Abbey?’ she exclaimed, and Will gave her an impatient look.

‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘You look as if you could use the rest. At the least, it win give you time to think.’

‘Maybe...’ Francesca moistened her lips. ‘But what will—what will Lady Rosemary have to say? It’s the middle of the summer, so I assume she’s staying at Mulberry Court. I don’t think she’d approve of you offering to let me stay here.’

A frown brought his brows together at her words, and, judging by his expression, she suspected he hadn’t given his grandmother’s feelings a thought until then. But the old lady had always been a force to be reckoned with, and years ago Francesca had been left in no doubt that . she was not the wife Lady Rosemary would have chosen for her grandson.

‘This is my home,’ he said, after a moment’s consideration, but she had the feeling he was not as casual as he’d have her believe. Still, what the hell? she thought. There was no reason why she should meet the old lady. She’d just as soon that Will didn’t tell her that she was here.

But, of course, someone was bound to. Even if she left today, her visit would not go unremarked. Watkins was an old gossip, and so was Mrs Harvey, and, although they were both extremely loyal to the family, when Francesca had left Will she’d forfeited any right to privacy.

‘All the same...’ she said now, giving him an out, but for reasons best known to himself Will chose not to take it.

‘Please stay,’ he said politely, though she thought his lips had stiffened. ‘But I am expecting guests for lunch, so if you’ll excuse me I have arrangements to make.’

CHAPTER FOUR (#u0e987b01-1267-56cf-b8da-b7e1f5e805c8)

IT HAD been a reckless thing to do, and Will knew it. Allowing Francesca to stay the night at the Abbey was one thing; inviting her to spend the weekend there was something else.

At any other time, it wouldn’t have mattered, he supposed. At any other time, he would not have been expecting a prospective ‘fiancée’ within a couple of hours. His grandmother was going to be furious, and with good reason, he reflected dourly. Apart from anything else, she’d be livid that Francesca should have come to him for help.

So why had he suggested Francesca should stay over until Sunday? It wasn’t as if her being here was going to change the situation at all. Sooner or later she would have to go back, and face whatever it was that was waiting for her. It was just that she had looked so weary, somehow, so defeated. He hadn’t had the heart to send her away.

Besides, after what she had told him, he needed a little more time to assimilate the information; to maybe think of some way he could help. It wasn’t his problem, but she had been his wife and he felt a certain amount of responsibility for her. It was ridiculous perhaps—his grandmother was bound to think so—but sometimes it was necessary to put practical thoughts aside.

In any case, for the moment he had his own immediate future to think of, and he went in search of Mrs Harvey to ensure she was informed there were only four for lunch. He’d already made the arrangement, but after Watkins’ treatment of Francesca he was wary. He could imagine how awkward they’d all feel if there were five places laid at the table.

If Mrs Harvey was surprised that his ex-wife was staying at the Abbey, she was shrewd enough not to show it. She left it to him to explain that Ms Quentin would be lunching in the morning room, and not in the dining room with him and his guests. He had considered suggesting that Francesca eat in her own rooms upstairs, but that smacked too much of subterfuge, and he assured himself he had nothing to hide.

Nevertheless, as he drove over to Mulberry Court later that morning, he realised he would have to inform his grandmother of his uninvited guest. He couldn’t permit her to hear the news via one of the servants, and he was well aware that Lady Rosemary’s maid was a frequent visitor at the Abbey.

Which was why he’d ensured that he arrived there fifteen minutes before the time he was expected. With a bit of luck, he’d find his grandmother alone, and he could explain why he’d allowed his ex-wife to stay on.

He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy, he reflected, when, after parking at the front of the house, he sauntered into the hall. The door was standing ajar this morning to allow the sunlight to filter into the panelled foyer, and as soon as he stepped over the threshold Emma appeared on the half landing that divided the dogleg staircase.

‘Hello,’ she said, with evident approval, and, resting one slim hand on the banister, she came prettily down the remaining stairs. ‘You’re early,’ she added, clearly interpreting that as an indication of his enthusiasm to see her again. ‘Mummy and Daddy are almost ready.’ She gave a gurgling laugh. ‘Well, Daddy is, anyway. Mummy’s still deciding what she ought to wear.’

Will managed a smile, aware that Emma had obviously not had that problem herself. Her cream georgette blouse and matching shorts would have fitted her for almost any occasion, her silvery hair scooped back on one side with an ivory clip.

‘As a matter of fact, I wanted a quick word with my grandmother,’ he remarked, after offering a polite greeting, and Emma’s expression tightened a little as she recognised her mistake. ‘Do you know where she is?’ he asked, glancing doubtfully about him. ‘Is she in the orangery again? She spends a lot of her time in there.’

‘I really couldn’t say.’ Emma spoke tersely at first, and then, as if realising she could hardly object to him wanting to speak to his grandmother, she recovered herself. ‘I—she was reading the morning newspaper on the terrace,’ she offered rather more warmly. ‘I had breakfast with her, actually. Mummy and Daddy had theirs in their room.’

‘Ah.’

Will reflected that he should have known. Lady Rosemary enjoyed eating her meals al fresco, and the terrace at the back of the house had a delightful view of the Vale of York in the distance.