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“Sorry, Boyd, dear, I beat you!” She waved an arm high above her head and, not content with that, pulled off her wide brimmed hat and threw it rapturously in the air, bringing home her victory. “Goodness, you’re not mad, are you?” she asked in the very next second, catching sight of the bright sharp anger in his face. He had dismounted, too, and was stalking towards her.

“Why do you take risks?” he gritted with what she took to be hostility.

“I don’t. I never do.” Hurriedly she tried to defend herself. “Risks? Don’t be absurd.” This was Boyd. How could she be afraid of him? Boyd would never hurt her. “You’re upset,” she said as she quickly comprehended. “There’s no need to be. I wouldn’t do anything stupid.”

His eyes burned with the blue intensity of sapphires. “Your mother didn’t do anything stupid.”

Now both of them were confronting the past. She remembered the horror everyone had felt on that tragic day. The utter disbelief that life, as they had known it, was for ever changed. Her father had been near catatonic. The tears had poured out of Aunt Alexa’s eyes. Geraldine had had her arms around her, trying to comfort a loved child. A Blanchard uncle was there with a second wife. That marriage hadn’t lasted either. She remembered the way she had afterwards clung to Boyd like some little monkey too scared to let go.

Now she tried desperately to offer conciliation. “We’ve had a lovely ride. Please don’t spoil it.”

“Spoil it?” He knew he was losing control, something that never happened. “What you had to do was not tackle that damned wall. It could have cost you your neck.”

Would anything go as she hoped? Temper flashed. “What I did,” she told him defiantly, “was jump a fairly low obstacle. I’ve jumped a lot higher than that.”

“Not on that little mare you haven’t,” he said with a vigorous jerk of his head towards the pure bred Arabian.

She stared back at him in disbelief, forgetting all caution, missing the fear behind his grimness. “So she isn’t the tallest horse in the stable, but I love her. In any case she’s sure-footed. Who the devil do you think you are, telling me what I can and cannot do?” she demanded. “Who are you to rule my life? No wonder I resent you. No wonder I’ve fought you for years. No wonder—”

She was on such a roll she was completely unprepared for his explosive reaction. Sparks seemed to be flowing from him like tiny glittering stars. While the blood rushed in her ears, he pulled her to him in a kind of fury, locking one steely arm around her, his left hand thrusting up her chin. “Oh, shut up bleating about your resentments and irritations,” he bit off with unfamiliar violence. “You irritate the hell out of me.”

He had confirmed it at long last. She let out a cry of pain. “I was wondering when you’d get around to admitting it,” she said, small white teeth clenched. They were standing so close together all her senses were reeling. Her blood ran blisteringly hot in her veins. To her distress she knew she couldn’t handle this. She was shaking with the effort to hold herself together. Dazzling sunlight spun around them like an impenetrable golden web.

“Let me go, you savage!” Even as the words left her lips she was shocked that she had said it. Boyd, a savage! Why couldn’t she shout, I love you? Why did she for ever have to hold it in? It was agony. There was no hope of getting free unless he released her.

“Count yourself lucky I’m not!” He laughed, but that didn’t lessen the bright anger on his face. “I’m not going to let you go, Leona, until I’ve taught you a necessary lesson. No point in struggling. I’ve been far too indulgent with you, taking all the little taunts you throw at me on a regular basis. Just how long do I have to wait before you call a ceasefire?”

How could she possibly demolish the defensive structure she had so painstakingly built up in a matter of moments? “For ever!” she shouted fiercely, not fully realising how wildly provocative she had become.

And that sealed her fate.

With a face like thunder Boyd lowered his head. He hauled her right up against him, her delicate body near breakable in his grip, intent on finding her beautiful, softly textured mouth. He felt capable of something monstrous, like picking her up and carrying her off into the forest like some primitive caveman. Sometimes she literally drove him crazy.

The impact on Leona was equally tremendous. Yet hadn’t she always known that something like this would happen? This was the man she loved. And, from time to time, hated. Because he made her feel so … so what? Off her brain? She couldn’t move. Her riding clothes seemed to have turned to gossamer. She had to tense her body so it wouldn’t dissolve into his. She had never experienced such tumultuous emotions in her whole life. It was seismic.

His long fingers plunged into her hair, catching up handfuls of red-gold curls. “I get so tired of your fighting me,” he groaned.

Her legs had given way to the extent that she thought if he hadn’t been holding her so powerfully she would have slid down his body to crumple at his feet. “Open your mouth,” he said. “I want to taste you.”

The sensuality of the moment was ferocious. It stole her breath. Desperately she clamped her lips together. The utter senselessness of it. His tongue prised them apart. “This is something else you can resent,” he told her harshly.

To save herself from going totally under, like a swimmer in wild surf, she closed her eyes and let the giant waves of emotion engulf her.

He was kissing her, devouring her, eating her, as if her mouth were a peach. To make it worse, she was so driven by sensation she began to eat him. It certainly felt like it. All she knew was desire. It was terrifying. So sensuous, so natural, so voluptuous, so God-given. To ease the strength of his hold on her, she thrust one of her legs between his, making her acutely aware that he was powerfully aroused. And she was the cause of it.

When he let go of her—all but pushed her away—she felt so disorientated, so weak-limbed, she actually fell down into the thick, honey-coloured grasses that grew in a wide circle around the ruins. “I don’t believe you just did that,” she said eventually, her hands pressed to her temples as if they were pounding.

“It happened all right.” Forcefully, Boyd drew air into his lungs.

“I hated it,” she said. An outrageous piece of lying. And it wouldn’t help her.

“Don’t lie to me, Leo,” he chided her curtly. “It won’t work.” He gave them both a necessary minute of respite, then he reached down to pull her to her feet, keeping a hold on her swaying figure.

Her green eyes met his, huge with shock. “But I need to lie to you.” The truth would involve love and love was a fatal word. “Don’t you understand? We’re cousins. Family.”

He gave a jagged laugh. “Second cousins, more or less. Less, actually, when you consider your grandfather and my great-uncle were half-brothers.”

“Does that make a difference?” How could she possibly steal Boyd away from the family? She knew Rupert fervently wished for an alliance between him and Chloe Compton, who was an heiress in her own right. How could she challenge powerful, menacing Rupert? She would never be allowed to walk away from that one.

“A difference to what?” Boyd rasped, uncaring of his father’s plans, his own man.

“You mean you were doing me a great honour kissing me?” She felt unendurably pressured, not even sure what she was saying. Whether indeed she was making any sense.

“I didn’t think for one moment you’d admit to a passionate response,” he said bitterly.

How was she managing to hide all her yearning? She was a woman, flesh and blood, not a pillar of ice. But she was managing. She saw it in his eyes.

He was waiting for something from her—something important—only she was in such a state of high arousal she didn’t know how best to answer. She didn’t know how best to handle a situation she herself had created. Instead, she concentrated fiercely on a distant copse of trees. “Let’s set the record straight. That was an angry response, more or less.” Anger was safe. It was what he was used to from her, after all.

His expression became hard and mocking. “That’s it! Do another runner.” His brilliant blue eyes darkened to cobalt.

“And just who am I supposed to be running away from?” Unable to help herself, she took the bait.

“Hell, Leo, we both know that.”

How she felt the power of those blazing eyes. She was shaking all over, engulfed by raging passions.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Boyd, contemplating her extreme agitation, suddenly relented. He reached out and drew her against his chest as if she were still a child, allowing her to stand until she was quiet within the half circle of his arms.

“Here, let’s get you home,” he murmured, somehow preventing his hands from sliding all over her perfect body. A body he wanted to cover like a man sought to cover the body of the woman he desired.

To Leona’s ears, he sounded near defeated. That was so unlike Boyd—but he kept a supportive arm around her. It was a measure of his very real affection for her, she thought gratefully. Affection was allowed. The family would allow affection.

Boyd must have been on the same wavelength because he asked in a very dry voice, “Anyone for a cup of tea?”

She fell into line. “I don’t drink tea.”

“Neither do I.”

“I know.” She dared to look up at him, seeking some measure of reassurance. “Was kissing me a game?” If he said yes, she thought she might die.

“If it was a game, it’s one I’m not sure I know the rules to,” he said grimly.

“Sometimes I’m afraid, Boyd.” She tried to explain herself. Without her mother, with a largely “absent” father, she had become used to keeping things in. It was all right to worship Boyd. He was the supernova in the family. She was part of the clan certainly, but still fairly low in the pecking order. For her and Boyd to become romantically involved would cause huge problems. She could even lose her job. Would Bea allow it? She badly needed time to consider the magnitude of what had just happened. Both of them had responded so passionately they might have been trying to make up for lost time. Would the force grow, the desperation?

“Poor baby!” Boyd murmured, as though all too aware of her fears. He was suppressing urges so intense he didn’t know how he was able to withstand them. “Come on.” He used his normal persuasive voice. “Home.” He bent to give her a leg up onto the Arabian mare, who was standing so quietly she might have been listening in on their conversation. Then, when Leona was in the saddle, he turned away to whistle up his bay, who was lightly grazing several feet away.

The secrets of the heart, he thought. It was time to bring a few of them out into the open. His feelings for Leona, the strong bond they had always shared, was stored in his blood.

CHAPTER THREE

“GOSH, THERE YOU ARE! I’ve been searching for you everywhere.” Robbie, looking almost distraught, rushed down the corridor of the west wing towards her. “Been riding?” He glanced down at her clothes.

“You know I love to ride,” Leona answered, trying to gauge his mood. “What time did you get here?”

“Oh, about an hour ago,” he said. “I had hoped we could have a game of tennis.”

“I don’t see why not.” Leona lifted her wrist and glanced at her watch. It would be daylight for hours yet. Besides, physical exertion might dampen her flaming passions. “Is everything okay?” She stared directly into his dark eyes. Should she warn him that Boyd planned to have a little chat with him? Perhaps not yet.

“It is now.” He shrugged cheerfully. “You know I’m lost at Brooklands without you.”

“Even so, you seem off balance.”

“I’m fine, Leo,” he said, now faintly testy. “I had the great misfortune to run—literally—into Tonya. That woman is the very devil. Jinty is in wonderful spirits. She gave me a great big hug. If I didn’t know better I’d have thought I was her favourite nephew. Rupe, needless to say, was overjoyed to see me again. Where’s Boyd? Never sighted him.”

“He came riding with me,” Leona said, deliberately offhand though it took a huge effort. She continued on her way down the picture-lined gallery towards her room.

“Did he now!” Robbie exclaimed, following her up. “The relationship growing, is it?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” She kept on walking.

“Despite the fact you’re Boyd’s marmalade kitten?”

She had to laugh at such a fanciful description. “I always thought of myself as the stray duckling.”

“Ah, Leo, sweetie, you yearn for his good graces,” Robbie said, loudly sighing. “So do I, for that matter. Black tie tonight?”

“You know it is.”

“I bet you’ve brought something exquisite to wear.” How beautiful Leo was, Robbie thought proudly. Glorious hair, glorious skin, glorious eyes—a romantic dream.

“Nothing else like it in the world,” she joked. In fact she had brought two beautiful evening dresses with her. You know who for. “I tell you what. Let me have a quick shower after that gallop. Get into your gear and I’ll meet you at the courts in around twenty minutes.”

“You’re an angel.” He hugged her, an inbred Latin style in all his movements. “Shall I ask Simon and his girlfriend to join us? I think Simon is planning on announcing their engagement quite soon.” Simon was one of the Blanchard cousins, also working for the firm.

“Good idea. Emma is so nice.”

“And her family own a nice big sheep station,” Robbie pointed out waspishly. “Let’s not put that little fact aside.”

“Ah, well, money usually marries money,” Leona said.

“And power begets power. How enviable it all is! And a very good idea, I suppose. These days women get half of what a guy has if they split up, so why then shouldn’t women bring a dowry with them like the old days? Rupe is madly pushing poor old Chloe at Boyd.”

“Robbie,” Leona reproved too sharply but she couldn’t help herself.

“Leona,” he responded heavily. “You have to remember there’s always tremendous pressure on people with lots of money to keep up. They have huge overheads. Houses, cars, planes, yachts, skillions of employees. To old Rupe’s eyes it would be utterly right to push Boyd and Chloe together. She’s a nice girl. Bit dim but everyone likes her. Even me and I’m vaguely anti-women. After all, two fortunes are better than one. It’s not marrying for money at all. It’s plain common sense.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t point out that Annalise quite likes you,” she put in lightly. Annalise was one of the clan, an intelligent, graceful young woman, still at university.

“Does she really?” Robbie’s lean cheeks flushed with colour.

Leona smiled at him.

“I’d never be allowed to court Annalise,” he said gloomily. “I’m the peasant in your midst.”

“Oh, don’t start that phoney inferiority stuff again,” she warned him. “It’s all a pretence. Even I can see you’re an attractive guy. There’s no reason why you couldn’t ask Annalise out. I’m sure she’d accept.”

Robbie, for answer, suddenly vaulted effortlessly over an antique chair, one of several set along the wall. “Have you heard from the parents?” The acid was back in his tone. Leona’s father and Delia were currently in London, a mix of business and pleasure. They weren’t due back for another fortnight.

“I heard from Dad the other night,” Leona volunteered, still concerned by how superficial that brief conversation had been. Her father might have been reading from a prepared script, though maybe he’d felt inhibited by Delia’s presence most probably behind him.

Perhaps Leona’s great likeness to her mother tied her poor father in knots. Instead of turning to her as all he had left of his beautiful young first wife, he had turned not away, but aside. Leona was certain that her father didn’t love Delia. Never had. He had simply felt it necessary as a Blanchard, a man of consequence who moved in high society, to have a partner, a token wife. Delia, a career socialite, was glamorous enough. She could play her part. Without being in the same league as the main family, or occupying the same stage, her father was nonetheless a wealthy man. Delia would never have married a nobody, thus proving Robbie’s sage theory.

“Mummy dearest was too busy to ring me,” Robbie said, as though thrilled to bits that she hadn’t.

“She didn’t speak to me either, Robbie.”

“We’re like two lost children, aren’t we, Leo? Makes us vulnerable, don’t you think?”

A truth that couldn’t be ignored. “Well, I don’t intend to let it swamp me,” she said. “Don’t let it swamp you either. It’s not easy being part and yet not a part of the mega-rich.”

“Well, you’re in,” Robbie said. “You’re part of the tribe. I never will be.” They had arrived at her door.

“You’ve got lots going for you, Robbie. Now, go change. I’ll meet you down on the courts. We’ll beat those two.”

“A piece of cake!” Robbie smiled, returned to good humour.

By the time they came back from their triumphant doubles match the house had its full complement of weekend guests. Pre-dinner drinks in the formal drawing room. Dinner at eight. Leona loved these occasions. She loved seeing the men in black tie. She loved being given the opportunity to dress up. She knew Jinty and the highly ambitious Tonya would be looking their most glamorous. The sisters bore a close family resemblance, both blond and blue-eyed, but whereas Jinty made the most of her eye-catching full figure, Tonya had elected to go for skin and bone. For that matter Leona couldn’t actually remember ever seeing Tonya eat anything.

She had wondered why Chloe Compton wasn’t among the guests until Geraldine had informed her that Chloe was attending the wedding of an old school friend in Auckland, New Zealand.

“Chloe won’t go away. Dearie me, no!” Geraldine offered, somewhat darkly.

“Go away?” What was Gerri going on about?

“Don’t be dense, child.” Geraldine had actually pinched her. “It doesn’t suit you. Every last member of the Compton tribe is campaigning for Chloe to become Mrs. Boyd Blanchard.”

“But I thought you all were!” Leona answered in amazement. “Let’s face it. It’s Rupert’s dearest wish.”

“Bugger Rupert!” said Geraldine.

Bathed, make-up and hair done, Leona looked down at the two evening dresses spread out on her Versailles-style bed. One was a beautifully draped emerald-green georgette silk with a faux diamond brooch detail at the waist. Green, after all, was her colour and the dress was definitely sexy. Maybe too sexy. The other was chiffon of a colour that defied description. Neither pink nor apricot but a marvellous blend of the two. Bea had actually picked it out for her.

“This colour was made for you, Leona, my dear, with that magnificent mane of hair. Not many can get away with the ethereal style either, but you can. Take it. It’s a gift!”

Closely fitted to the hip, embroidered to one side with matching flowers and leaves, the neckline plunged, as was the fashion, the skirt flowed gracefully to the floor. No doubt about it, it was exquisite. And it looked even better on.

What kind of statement did she wanted to make? The femme fatale or the springtime nymph? In the end she opted for the ethereal, romantic look. No getting away from it, it did suit her style of looks and she was rather worried about pushing her sexuality. She couldn’t afford to be too obvious about it. Sweet little Leona to Rupert—that was the way he would want her to remain. Rupert wouldn’t hear of any other woman for his son but Chloe Compton. She understood that fully. And Rupert had long since developed the habit of getting everything he wanted.

But then—Boyd had kissed her. If he never kissed her again, she would remember it for her whole life. And, remembering, live off it. Wasn’t there a law that said one was only allowed one great love in life? She hoped not.

When she walked into the drawing room in her high heeled evening sandals, her chiffon skirt floating around her, everyone with one notable exception, looked at her with open pleasure, Peter Blanchard, one of the cousins, with open adoration. She had known Peter all of her life. He had been her escort on many, many occasions and she was very fond of him. He was good-looking, clever and charming in his way. He had a number of university degrees under his belt, one from Harvard Business School. Like most of the clan, he worked for Blanchards.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t hold a candle to Boyd, who was staring across the room at her, blue eyes glittering. She started to breathe deeply. That was right. In and out. She had the sudden delirious notion that her dress had turned transparent. Her glance shot away to Rupert, who was smiling his approval. Rupert was standing with his son in front of the fireplace, with its white marble surround and magnificent eighteenth century English mirror. Both men were of a height, both possessed of a charisma that commanded attention.

The fireplace when not in use in spring and summer was generally occupied by a large Chinese fish bowl filled with masses and masses of flowers and greenery. Tonight the big blue and white bowl held a profusion of pink Oriental lilies, with twisting dried branches, spear grasses and a fan of palms. Leona noticed abstractedly that the lilies matched the colours of her dress—pink with speckled golden-apricot throats.

Geraldine, seated on one of the damask upholstered sofas in conversation with one of the Blanchard wives, waved her over. She presented a vision of striking eccentricity in her favourite imperial purple with diamond and amethyst earrings as big as chandeliers swinging from her ears. Tonya was half turned away, as though Leona’s entrance had been staged and in any case was of no interest to her. Champagne glass in hand, she looked very glamorous in a short evening gown of a deep glowing shade of fuchsia. All the women had made a real effort to sparkle and glow. Simon’s serene Emma wore blue to match her eyes. It was a comparatively modest gown given the evening wear around her, but she wore it with unselfconscious ease, certain of her place in the scheme of things.

And here was Jinty, the hostess with the mostest. That certainly applied tonight. No one, but no one could hope to outshine Jinty, Leona thought as Jinty flowed towards her. She had gone all out tonight. Money simply wasn’t an issue. She wore a couture black satin strapless gown, above which her creamy bosom swelled proudly. Her thick blonde hair was coiffed to perfection, swept up and back. She would have a hairdresser in residence. But everything was simply a backdrop to showcase the “Blanchard Diamonds”.

They were so glorious that the owner of the most magnificent collection of jewels in the world, the Queen of England might have envied them. The suite comprised three pieces—necklace, pendant earrings and bracelet. All white diamonds, they were colourless and flawless. A double row of pear-shaped diamonds encircled Jinty’s neck. Appended to the bottom row was a large square-shaped diamond enhancer enclosing a huge canary diamond that Leona knew weighed in at over thirty carats. The earrings alone featured two nine carat drops that flashed and scintillated with Jinty’s every movement. Everyone in the family knew the suite had been acquired at the turn of the twentieth century from a famous South African billionaire who had plenty more where they’d come from. The diamonds had been mined at De Beers, Cecil Rhodes’ first diamond mine. So the suite had a history.

The last time Leona had seen the whole suite Aunt Alexa had been wearing it at a grand state ball. Jinty often wore the superb earrings. Sometimes the bracelet. But so far the necklace hadn’t had an outing. Tradition had it that the suite was to be handed down through the generations for the use of the current wife of the head of the Blanchard family. Which made Jinty merely a custodian, which was a blessing. If Rupert and Jinty ever split up, her share would be in multiples of millions, but she would never get away with the “Blanchard Diamonds”.

“Jinty, you look simply marvelous!” Leona said, because she did.

“Why, thank you, dear!” Jinty responded brightly. “The diamonds make me feel like a goddess.”

“They look wonderful on you. They really do.” And she meant it.

“And you look perfectly beautiful as usual,” Jinty responded graciously. “Where did you get that dress? The colour is extraordinary. Especially with your hair.”

“Bea picked it out,” Leona said.

Jinty gave a faint shudder. “Can’t stand the woman, though I know she’s a genius of sorts. Ugly though, don’t you think? Rupert won’t hear a word against her. Now, I must get you a glass of champagne.” She turned away in time to see Boyd approaching. “Ah, here’s Boyd with one,” she said brightly.

Boyd stopped in front of them, handing a glass of champagne to Leona. “No need to tell you you look ravishing, Leona,” he said, an unmistakably caressing intonation in his voice.

“That she does,” Jinty seconded rather abruptly. “Where’s that stepbrother of yours, Leo? We can’t go into dinner without him.”

“There’s plenty of time,” Boyd murmured, looking towards the entrance hall. The circular library table that stood in the middle of the spacious hall, which was paved in a diamond pattern of marble and stone, was the perfect spot for another stunning flower arrangement, this time a profusion of roses, gerberas, lisianthus and leaves. “Here he is now,” Boyd said as Robbie suddenly hove into view.

“Slowcoach!” Jinty spoke crisply, a little afraid of Robbie’s satirical tongue. She didn’t linger, but moved off as though her husband had beckoned. He hadn’t.

Leona stood with the fragile crystal wineglass in her hand.

“Come and sit down,” Boyd said.

“Geraldine was looking out for me.”

“Geraldine can have her moment later. You’re mine now.” His hand slipped beneath her elbow. Maybe she was becoming paranoid, but she had a sense that the whole room had snapped to attention. Tonya of the high slanting cheekbones was looking daggers at her. Tonya was having a lot of difficulty accepting Boyd was as good as spoken for. Ignoring the competition, especially in the form of Chloe Compton, was a heroic effort or a piece of madness on Tonya’s part so far as Leona was concerned, but Tonya had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the hunt.

Maybe all we women are delusional, Leona thought. Seeing signs and intentions where there were none.

Robbie, looking gratifyingly handsome and very Italian in his formal gear, which any discerning eye could see was Italian and a perfect fit, met up with them in the centre of the drawing room with its apple-green and gold upholstery and curtains and a splendid duck-egg blue, white and gold plated ceiling.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologised. “Usually I don’t have a problem, but I had trouble with my tie. You look wonderful, Leo.” His dark eyes moved over her with pride and admiration. “Doesn’t she, Boyd?” he queried, not so artlessly.

Boyd just smiled. “I don’t know if wonderful quite says it, Robbie. Magical comes to mind.”

Robbie suddenly caught sight of Jinty. “Good grief!” he breathed. “What’s she got on, the Crown Jewels?”

“Those, my man, are the Blanchard Diamonds,” Boyd corrected him. “Not the same thing.”

“You’ve seen the earrings before,” Leona reminded him. “Jinty often wears them.”

“But the necklace!” Robbie was looking dazzled. “I’ve an overwhelming desire to go over and take a closer look, but I don’t know what would happen. Our Jinty has a mean streak. She might punch me in the nose. I have to say those diamonds look great on her, but think what they would look like on you, Leo!” He turned to her.

“No, no, no!” Leona shook her head vigorously, making the deep waves and curls dance. The Blanchard Diamonds were destined for Boyd’s wife. She wasn’t wearing a necklace anyway. She had nothing that could remotely match the jewellery around her in any case. But she was wearing her mother’s lovely earrings, a daisy wheel of pink sapphires and tiny diamonds with a silver baroque pearl appended from each.

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream!” Boyd suggested. “You don’t need diamonds, Leo. A crown of flowers on your head would be perfect.”

Robbie stared up at the taller man. “That’s it exactly. God, you’re a romantic guy, Boyd. No wonder the women love you. You say really romantic things.”

“To Leona, I think you mean?” Boyd’s voice was vaguely self-mocking.

Robbie was still staring back at Boyd thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, yes. To Leona.” He made a sudden move. “Listen, I’m going to grab a Martini.”

“As long as you don’t make it bath-sized,” Boyd warned. Some time tomorrow morning he intended to have his little talk with Robbie. He would not be allowed to continue on the path he’d been taking.

By eight o’clock everyone was seated at the long mahogany table. Twenty-four in all, looking as though they belonged perfectly in such a grand room. It was Jinty’s job to keep an excellent table. Rupert expected it of her, so she had made it her business to employ the best people. Older members of the clan, however, had privately expressed the opinion that occasionally Jinty’s food was too exotic for their taste.

Leona had been placed beside Peter, a little right of centre table. Robbie was opposite her. Geraldine was to her brother’s right. Boyd was seated to Jinty’s right with Tonya all but opposite him. Everyone was arranged according to the pecking order.

“Some artistic genius has arranged the flowers,” Leona remarked to Peter, touching a gentle finger to a rose petal.

“Can’t be Jinty.” He bent closer to whisper in her ear. “Some of darling Jinty’s early floral arrangements went spectacularly wrong.”