‘Actually, no.’ His eyes met hers. ‘The Chelsea house is owned officially by Werner Langton. A glamorous London pied-à-terre for the chairman, reflecting his status, as well as somewhere to entertain clients, especially those who dislike hotel life.’
He paused. ‘Of course, that’s never really mattered while your father’s been managing director, and chairman. He’s treated it as a second home, and allowed you to do so. I can see where the confusion has arisen.’
He smiled at her. ‘But once he stands down as chairman, that will no longer apply. It will revert to being a company residence. And I don’t think you can afford the rent, especially without your allowance. And I’m not sure I want a lodger, anyway.’
She sat motionless, staring at him, as their first courses arrived.
I didn’t know, she thought. I assumed it was our house. Why did my father never tell me the real situation?
She picked up her spoon, and began to eat her soup. It was very hot, and subtly spiced, helping to dispel some of the growing chill inside her. Some, but not all.
‘This terrine is delicious,’ he commented, breaking the taut silence. ‘Like to try some?’
Mutely, she shook her head.
He studied her with faint amusement. ‘Cheer up,’ he said. ‘You’re not going to be made to starve in the gutter. When we’re married, your upkeep will become my responsibility.’ He paused. ‘I think you’ll find me reasonably generous,’ he added lightly.
She put down the spoon. She said thickly, ‘You talk as if this—thing was a done deal.’
‘Oh, we’re a fair way from that,’ he said. ‘But I live in hope.’
The waiters returned to clear away their plates, and bring the next course. Darcy sat with a forced smile as her fish was removed from the bone, wine was poured and vegetables handed.
When they were left to themselves again, she said, ‘Disregarding personalities, why on earth should you wish to get married at all? You seem to me to be a perennial bachelor.’
‘Based, naturally, on your vast experience of men.’ His tone was cutting. ‘But all husbands were single once. That’s how it works.’
He paused. ‘I’ve spent a lot of my time travelling—working in the field. Now that I’m putting down roots, maybe I’ve begun to realise the value of a well-run home.’
‘But you’ll have that,’ she said swiftly. ‘I presume Mrs Inman is also a Werner Langton employee, who goes with the house, and, as you’ve already discovered, she’s a treasure. You’ll hardly let her go.’
‘Certainly not. But I think she prefers receiving orders to acting on her own initiative. And I have little time for domestic minutiae. I need someone who knows how the household works, and what instructions to give. Who can deal with sometimes difficult and demanding people.’
Darcy lifted her eyebrows. ‘Do you include yourself in that category, Mr Castille?’ she asked caustically.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘If I don’t get my own way. But I’m sure you’re already accustomed to that in your family circle,’ he added silkily.
‘And there is another consideration,’ he went on, ignoring her mutinous glare. ‘Mrs Inman is a worthy soul, but I wouldn’t want to look at her on the other side of my table every night.’
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