Читать книгу: «The Rake And The Heiress», страница 3

In the large formal dining—once more panelled with a design of roses—a concealed door lifted away to reveal a space built into a hollow column. ‘My father was minded to keep his own papers here, until I informed him that the entire household, if not the whole countryside, knew of the place. After that he stuck to the rather more orthodox method of locking them in his desk.’ Once more the space was empty.

In the master bedchamber, where Nicholas pulled back one of the window shutters to reveal yet another ‘secret’ space, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground. He handed it to Serena, smiling at the look of anticipation on her face as she opened it, bursting into infectious laughter when it turned out to be an account for three pairs of evening gloves and six ostrich feathers.

‘This was my father’s room. I can only assume it was a bill he didn’t want my mother to see. Before he married my stepmother, my father was rather free with his favours.’

‘Was he? Well, so was my father after my mother died—and before he married her, I presume.’

‘Don’t you find that shocking?’

‘No, why should I? Papa was very much in love with Maman, and it was a long time after she died before he took an interest in any other woman. Why should I grudge him pleasant company?’

‘What a very enlightened attitude.’

Nicholas’s coolly ironic tone irked her. Remembering just in time, however, that it was not in her interests to quarrel with him, Serena took a calming breath before speaking. ‘It’s not enlightened, it’s just—honest. Why pretend the world works one way when it is obvious to anyone who cares to look that it works in quite another? I don’t mean that I approve of such choices, but to deny that they happen would be quite foolish.’

‘Foolish, I agree, but it’s what most of your sex claim to do none the less. And may I ask if Papa had the same enlightened attitude when it came to his daughter?’

‘Of course not. It’s different for a woman, as you very well know. I think you’re making fun of me.’

‘On the contrary, I must commend you for the candour of your outlook.’

Once again she struggled to contain the spark of temper his words ignited, for though he denied it she knew she was being deliberately riled. Biting back the riposte that sprang to her lips, Serena instead executed a mocking curtsy. ‘You are too kind, sir. I would that I could commend you for the same.’

‘Well done, mademoiselle. A hit, I acknowledge it.’

She was forced to laugh. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, please call me Serena. I can’t bear to be on formal terms. In any case, it’s absurd, to have been grovelling about amongst all this dirt and cobwebs and still to call each other Mr Lytton and Mademoiselle Stamppe, a name I find rather strange, even if it is my own.’

‘I’m honoured. Serena is a beautiful name, and I’d be flattered if you’d call me Nicholas.’

‘Papa named me for serenity, although I’m not sure he got it quite right. But thank you, Nicholas.’

She pronounced it in the French way, leaving off the last consonant, making awareness curl in the pit of his stomach. There was something inherently sensual about her, made more so because he could not make up his mind whether or not she intended it. Nicholas. It was like a caress.

‘I take it you don’t favour this room yourself,’ Serena said, looking around her, oblivious of his stare. ‘I’m not surprised, it’s quite depressing.’

‘I agree,’ Nicholas replied, dragging his mind back to their conversation. ‘To be honest, I’ve never been enamoured of the idea of taking over the room of a dead parent. Rather off-putting, I would imagine, especially if one had company. As if one was being watched at a time when one would particularly wish not to be observed.’

Serena gave a startled gasp. ‘There was no need to be so blunt! I thought only that the room was oppressive. What you do—or don’t do—in your own bedchamber is none of my business.’

‘Not yet.’ Giving her no time to respond to this challenge, Nicholas grasped Serena by the elbow and headed towards the door. ‘That’s the last of the hiding places I remember for the present. It has obviously escaped your notice, but it is long past noon, and I am ravenous. I asked Hughes to set out a luncheon for us downstairs, but before you sit down, my lovely Serena, you should know that you have smut on your nose, so I will direct you to a room where you can clean up, and I will see you as soon as you have done so. Don’t keep me waiting lest I faint from hunger.’

Turning her by the shoulders, he pointed Serena in the direction of a doorway down the long corridor and strode effortlessly down the stairs towards the breakfast parlour.

After lunch they engaged in a few more hours of fruitless searching before Nicholas judged it time to call it a day. ‘There’s always tomorrow,’ he said brightly. ‘Rest assured I’ll rack my brain for more ideas to occupy us then.’

‘You don’t sound overly disappointed by our lack of progress,’ Serena said suspiciously. ‘In fact, you sound quite pleased.’

Nicholas flashed her a seductive smile. ‘The longer it takes, the more grateful you are liable to be.’

‘As I said earlier, Mr Lytton, you take far too much for granted. Right now, what I would be most grateful for is the comfort of my bed. It’s been a long and tiring day, I must return to my lodgings.’

‘Then I insist you let me send a servant to accompany you. After all, we wouldn’t want any aspersions to be cast on your reputation or intentions, now would we?’

‘No, Mr Lytton,’ Serena conceded with a smile, ‘we most certainly would not.’

‘If I never see another Tudor rose before I die I’ll be happy.’ Serena was perched precariously on a window seat in the formal dining room at Knightswood Hall the next day. ‘My fingers are aching from tapping and prodding and poking at panelling. I’m beginning to think this is a wild goose chase.’

After hours of searching they were no further forward, but although she knew she should be concerned, she was finding it very hard to fret. Her father had created this situation, giving her no option but to keep company with a man whom she was almost certain was a rake. The world would surely damn her if it ever found out, but she would make sure it didn’t, and in the meantime, provided the rake continued to behave, she was enjoying herself.

Nicholas smiled lazily up at Serena from the chair from which he had been watching, with relish, her attempts to reach a rose he had suggested—with no foundation whatsoever—looked particularly suspect. She had had to stretch, giving him a delightful view of her shapely ankles and a tantalising glimpse of her even more shapely rear as her dress was pulled tight. ‘Poor Serena, don’t give up yet, I’m sure I can think of lots more places to look.’

She turned round to face him, her hands on her hips. ‘I’m sure you can. And I expect most of them will involve me clambering up on to something or crawling about on my hands and knees.’

He stood to assist her down from the window. ‘It’s your own fault for having such a very charming derrière.’

‘A gentleman wouldn’t have looked.’

‘No, you’re wrong about that. No man, gentleman or other, could have resisted looking, but a gentleman would have pretended he had not.’

‘You told me you were a gentleman.’

‘I lied.’

‘You’re impossible,’ Serena said, trying desperately not to blush, for it only served to encourage him.

And you are adorable, Nicholas thought. A long tendril of hair had escaped its pins and curled down her back over the tender nape of her neck, giving her a charmingly dishevelled air. Not for the first time he found himself imagining what she would look like with all of the pins removed, her hair loosened and allowed to cascade down over her bare shoulders. It would brush teasingly over her breasts, causing the rosy buds of her nipples to stiffen and darken in delicious contrast to the creamy fullness of…

He dragged his eyes away. ‘Let’s go for a walk. We could both do with some fresh air.’ He picked up his coat, which was draped over a chair at the head of the long oak table. Serena was delightful, charming, and fun to be with into the bargain. A very heady and alluring combination. The evidence of that was pressing insistently at the fabric of his breeches. Adjusting the ruffles on his shirt sleeves, he pulled his waistcoat straight. ‘Come on, fetch your hat and shawl. It’s much too nice a day to stay cooped up in here. A stroll in the gardens is what we need. You’ll be relieved to know that it’s too early for the roses to be in bloom.’ Placing a hand firmly on the small of her back, he guided her from the room.

Outside, Serena raised her face towards the sun, luxuriating in the gentle caress of its warm rays on her skin. ‘You’re right…’ she sighed contentedly ‘…his is a lovely idea. Where shall we go?’

‘There’s a pleasant walk down through the gardens to the trout stream at the bottom,’ Nicholas replied. ‘It’s been dry for almost a week now, so the path shouldn’t be too muddy.’

‘I wish you’d tell Madame LeClerc so. According to her, it has been raining non-stop since we arrived.’

‘The good Madame—and how is her heroic snoring?’

Serena giggled. ‘I don’t know, thank goodness. I was so tired last night that I barely noticed. I should inform you, though, that her French sense of propriety is extremely offended at my spending so much time alone with you. She is for ever reminding me that my papa would strongly disapprove.’

‘And would he?’ Nicholas asked curiously.

‘That’s an impossible question since the only reason I am here with you in the first place is to do as he wishes. He would think our acquaintance—unwise.’

‘Perhaps he would be right. Most fathers would think the same way about me, I’ve a dreadful reputation. After all, I’ve already kissed you twice—who knows what else I have planned for you?’

Serena stumbled. ‘You said you would not take liberties.’

‘I said I would not take anything that is not given freely. That’s quite a different matter.’

‘Oh.’ She glanced up at him through her lashes. ‘You know, I considered bringing Madame LeClerc here with me to ensure that nothing improper occurred between us.’

‘Good God, I’m very glad you didn’t. I suspect I’d have resorted to murder.’

‘If I have to put up with her for much longer, I’ll resort to murder myself. Her dresses may be charming, but her disposition is rather less so. I find her company tedious, and she finds our delay here beyond bearing. I can’t wait to be rid of the woman.’

‘When will that be?’

‘When I get to London. Once I have Papa’s papers, I’m to take them to his lawyer there in the city.’

‘And then? Do you have plans?’

Serena frowned. ‘I thought I did, now I’m not so sure. You’ll think me fanciful, but I feel like—oh, I don’t know—a ship. All my life I’ve been safely anchored in a harbour, or becalmed, or tethered to another vessel. And now I’ve been cut free I can go where I want, do whatever I want to do. I don’t really want to make plans just yet. Don’t laugh.’

‘I’m not—far from it. I find the image of you unfurling your sails most distracting.’

She blushed at the intimacy of his tone, but ventured no reply. They were walking side by side along a small path lined with cherry trees, the blossom just beginning to come into flower. Serena’s hand was tucked into Nicholas’s arm, their paces matched, so perfectly in tune that neither had noticed.

The atmosphere over the last two days had been relaxed and lightly flirtatious. Until now, Nicholas had shown no sign of wishing to make more serious advances. Which was a good thing, Serena assured herself, and had indeed almost come to believe. Almost. Part of her was tempted to explore the attraction she felt between them, though it was a complication she could well do without. Every time he touched her, no matter how innocuous the circumstances—to hand her a book or her gloves, to seat her at the table or as now, to lend her an arm while they walked—a tiny shiver of awareness flickered inside her. Did he feel it too?

I find the image of you unfurling your sails most distracting. She wished she had not mentioned it, for now she found it distracting too. Unfurling. Why was it such a sensual word?

They continued strolling along the path, but their pace slowed. ‘There’s a seat by the stream and a pretty enough prospect from there over the fields,’ Nicholas said, pointing ahead. ‘We can rest there for a while in the sun, if you wish.’

There was indeed a charming view from the little wooden bench they made their way towards. ‘It’s lovely, really lovely,’ Serena said delightedly. ‘I wonder if my papa and yours spent time fishing here. He told me they knew each other as boys.’

‘Did he? Then perhaps they did.’ Though Nicholas thought it more likely that Serena’s papa poached than fished, he decided not to disillusion her. ‘I fish here myself sometimes. There’s not much sport, trout and carp merely, and to be honest I haven’t the patience for fly fishing. I haven’t been here in an age—I’d almost forgotten how pleasant it is.’ He wiped the bench with a large handkerchief. Serena sat obediently, but Nicholas continued to stand, gazing off into the distance.

‘Don’t you spend much time at the Hall?’ she enquired.

‘No, not really. I have a town house in London—that’s where Georgiana, my half-sister, and her mother are at present. Georgie’s seventeen now, and Melissa is launching her on to the unsuspecting world. She’s a bit of a hoyden, Melissa is quite unable to control her, but she’ll be a hit none the less, she’s a pretty little thing with a handsome portion. Between my hunting box, visiting friends, and trips to the races at Newmarket, I’m lucky if I spend more than a month or so in a year down here.’

‘That seems a shame. It’s such a lovely place.’

‘Well, the prospect is certainly breathtaking at the moment.’

He was not looking at the view. His meaning was unmistakable. Serena could think of no reply, only of what he would do next. She did not have to wait long.

‘Stand up, Serena, I mean to kiss you.’

Somehow she was on her feet. How did that happen? He was pulling her close into the warmth of his body. His arm was looped round her waist. She could feel the heat from his fingers through the thin muslin of her dress. Now he was untying the strings of her bonnet with his other hand, tossing it carelessly on to the bench.

‘I don’t intend to let you,’ she finally managed to say.

Nicholas raised a quizzical brow. ‘I think you’ll find that you do.’ He moved closer, watching her all the while, his hold on her still loose, unrestraining, allowing her space and time to retreat. His fingers were on the nape of her neck now, gently exploring, stroking down to her collar bone, up to the shell of her ear. Her body hummed with anticipation, her nerves tingling, her skin, her whole being urging her towards him, as if invisible strings pulled her in, tangled her up, enmeshed the two of them together.

‘Serena?’ His voice was husky. His eyes, dark and disturbing, searched her face questioningly.

She hesitated as his fingers stilled their caress. His hold on her slackened. She knew she should resist, knew it with certainty.

Chapter Three

His lips were gentle, pulling her bottom lip between his own, moulding his mouth to hers, delicately flicking her mouth open with his tongue. Their bodies nestled, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. The buttons from his coat dug into her through the thin fabric of her dress. Still Nicholas teased, a determinedly slow onslaught on her mouth that licked and sipped and kissed with seemingly no intent but to tantalise.

She was suffused with a warm glow. A hotter flame flickered low in her abdomen, and yet she shivered too, goose bumps rising on her neck, her waist, her arms, everywhere their bodies touched. So different. So lovely. Unfurling.

His breath was warm on her cheek. She wanted to melt into him. To drink deeper of him. To feel more of him. Instinctively she returned his kiss, relishing the myriad of sensations flooding her senses, blocking out all thought, building so slowly from warmth to heat that she hardly registered the change in temperature, the intensifying ache becoming a need for more.

Nicholas’s hold on her tightened. The pressure of his mouth increased. His tongue touched hers, or hers touched his, and everything changed. He pulled her so close that even through their clothing there could be no mistaking his arousal. His hand left her waist, trailing lower, gripping the soft flesh of her thigh, cupping and moulding the rounded flesh of her bottom. A throbbing pulse inside her responded to his hardness. Heat sparked.

His mouth became demanding. His tongue penetrated deep, tangling with hers, his lips no longer gentle, no longer sipping, but drinking, driving her towards a place hotter and wilder than any she had been before. She was trembling. Would have fallen were it not for the strength of his grip on her. ‘Nicholas,’ she said, though what she meant she had no idea. Her voice sounded ragged.

He released her abruptly, breathing heavily, his lids hooded over eyes that were almost black with desire. Serena slumped down on to the bench, her head swirling.

‘If I’d known the response I’d get I would have waited until we were indoors,’ Nicholas said with a grim attempt at humour, taken aback by the strength of passion that had erupted between them.

‘You said you were going to kiss me, not ravish me,’ Serena flashed in return, desperately struggling for a modicum of composure. Just a kiss! Well, now she knew there was no such thing!

Nicholas turned away, taking his time to adjust his disarrayed neckcloth, allowing himself to be distracted by this small task in order to give them both time to compose themselves. He had intended no more than a teasing kiss, something to test the waters. That they had plunged immediately into the depths was most unsettling.

Serena sat on the damp wood of the seat, wrestling with the tangled strings of her bonnet. Desire and heat warred with shame and guilt as she realised what she had done. What must he think of her? What was she to think of herself? For even as she sat here, trying to compose herself, she was distracted by an unfulfilled yearning for more. She barely recognised herself. Perhaps she had become infected by Nicholas’s spirit of recklessness.

But it was done now, and she could not regret it. She would put it down to experience—at least, she would at some point, when she was gone from here, somewhere far from this man’s disturbing, bewildering presence. In the meantime the best thing she could do was protect her dignity. She was damned if she would let Nicholas Lytton see how easily his kisses overwhelmed her. Serena straightened her shawl and smoothed a wrinkle from her glove. ‘We should go back.’

Nicholas ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it into something resembling its former stylish disorder and tried to decide what to do. Apologise? No need, surely—he had given her every chance to repulse him. He had done nothing wrong, yet still he felt he had. But then why was she sitting there, looking annoyingly calm, when he was on fire with need, and just moments before he could have sworn she was too. Baffled, he helped her to her feet.

‘Thank you, Nicholas.’

Deliberately misunderstanding her meaning in an effort to rouse her out of her irritating self-possession, Nicholas bowed mockingly. ‘It’s more customary for the gentleman to thank the lady. It was a pleasure, I assure you.’

Serena blushed, and was annoyed at having done so. ‘I trust you are suitably refreshed,’ she said tartly.

‘You’re anxious to resume your search, I suppose. You know, Serena, the papers are just as likely to be lost as hidden.’

‘I’m perfectly well aware that you don’t believe in their existence,’ she snapped. ‘I am also perfectly well aware that I am simply a distraction for you. You’re helping me because you are bored. You kissed me for the same reason. Why the sudden need for honesty—are you feeling guilty? You needn’t, it was just a kiss, as you said. You need have no fear that it raised false expectations.’

‘If we are to talk of false expectations, I think you have raised a few of your own! Dammit, Serena, you said it yourself, that wasn’t a kiss, it was a ravishment.’

The implication made her temper soar, hot words pouring from her like lava from a volcano. ‘There is no need to take your frustrations out on me, Nicholas. You had the good grace to comment yesterday on my enlightened attitude. Would that you had the same. Instead you are behaving all too typically of your sex, happy to blame mine for arousing your desires, equally happy to berate us when they are not fulfilled.’

His voice was steely. ‘I think I am not the only one to be suffering from frustrated desire.’

They stood glaring at each other on the narrow track. Behind them the weak spring sunshine glittered, casting dappled shadows on the lush green verge. In the brief silence her temper abated as quickly as it had risen. ‘You are quite right, I beg your pardon.’

Her simple acknowledgement took the wind from his sails. Nicholas lifted her hand to his lips. ‘You are far more gracious than I. I accept your apology unreservedly, and offer my own in turn.’

She snatched her hand back. ‘Forget it, there is nothing more to be said. Let us return to the Hall, shall we?’

Nicholas nodded in grudging agreement and, linking Serena’s arm through his own, turned back on to the path and led them towards the house.

In London, Mr Mathew Stamppe entered the office in the city of Messrs Acton and Archer, attorneys at law. He was welcomed by the senior partner Mr Tobias Acton, and ushered into a comfortable room at the front of the premises facing out on to the bustle of Lombard Street.

Waving aside the offer of a glass of canary and ignoring Mr Acton’s polite enquiries as to the health of Mrs Stamppe and his son Mr Edwin Stamppe, Mathew cleared his throat and got straight to the point. ‘What is this urgent matter that requires my presence post-haste? It had better be good.’

Tobias Acton assessed the man sitting opposite him with a lawyer’s shrewd gaze. His client was a tall man with a spare frame. Eyes of washed-out blue peered at him testily above the aristocratic Stamppe nose, but overall his features were weak, giving him rather the look of a hunted hare. Mathew favoured the plain dress of the country squire he had been for the best part of the last twenty years, living on his brother’s estates in Hampshire. Under his careful stewardship the lands of the Earl of Vespian were in excellent heart. Mathew had looked after them as prudently as he would have done had they been his own. In fact, Tobias Acton thought, he had looked after them for so long that he probably thought of them as exactly that—his own.

And now they were. The lawyer composed his features into those of a man about to deliver ill tidings. ‘I’m afraid, Mr Stamppe, we have received the saddest of news. Your brother Philip is, I must regretfully inform you, deceased. He died some months ago from injuries sustained when he was robbed, I believe in Paris. Please accept my deepest condolences, sir. Or, I should say, Lord Vespian.’

At last! Mathew struggled to contain the smile that tugged at the corners of his thin mouth. Careful not to show his satisfaction, he shook his head sadly. ‘My dear brother’s passing cannot be said to be a shock, given the way he chose to live, but it is a blow none the less. I shall arrange for the appropriate notices and such, but the main thing is to confirm the legal transfer of the estate to my name. I take it he left his will with you?’

Tobias Acton shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Well, my lord, as to that, I’m sorry to tell you that things are not quite so straightforward. Lord Vespian—your brother, that is—left us none of his personal papers. As trustees we can obviously act with regards to that part of the estate which is entailed, but as to the unentailed property which, as you know, is not insignificant, we have only this.’

He solemnly handed Mathew a sealed packet. ‘Our instructions were to give this into your hands in the unfortunate event of his lordship’s death.’

Mathew took the packet, his rigid countenance giving no sign of the anger rising in his breast at this caprice of Philip’s. Tearing open the seal, he read the contents with impotent fury. Finally, he crumpled the letter into his pocket. ‘It seems, Mr Acton, that I have inherited a niece rather than a fortune. My dear brother has posthumously informed me that he was not only married, but that the union produced a daughter who is his rightful heir. The will and testament supporting this was lodged by Philip with a man named Nick Lytton who, to the best of my knowledge, died ten years since. I can only presume my niece—’ he broke off to consult the letter ‘—the Lady Serena, will stake her claim as soon as she has recovered them from his son.’

Tobias Acton’s brows rose a notch. ‘A most unexpected development, Lord Vespian. May one enquire as to how you intend to handle this somewhat, ahem, delicate situation?’

‘That, Acton, is a question I find myself quite unable to answer at this present moment.’

The next morning, Hughes relieved Serena of her hat and pelisse and informed her that Master Nicholas awaited her in the library, which was situated at the far end of the building. Serena opened the door and stepped into a surprisingly modern room with long windows looking out over a paved terrace. The book cases were mahogany, not the oak prevalent in the rest of the house, as was the large desk behind which Nicholas sat. Above the book cases the walls and ceiling were tempered a soft cream. The hangings were dull gold.

‘This is quite lovely,’ Serena said, ‘and so unexpected.’

Nicholas rose from behind the desk to clasp her hand between his in his customary greeting. ‘A description I could easily apply to you.’

She felt his intense gaze probe her thoughts, felt the now familiar fluttering that accompanied the touch of his flesh on hers, however slight. They stood thus for what seemed an eternity, the memory of that remarkable, passionate, all-encompassing kiss hanging almost palpably between them.

A polite cough announced the arrival of Hughes bearing a tray of coffee, which he placed on a small table. Serena poured two cups and handed one to Nicholas before sitting down to sip contentedly on her own. ‘I’ve never learned to make good coffee—this is delicious.’

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. ‘Not exactly an accomplishment you can have had much call for, surely?’

‘On the contrary. There have been times when we were quite down on our luck, Papa and I, unable to afford luxuries such as servants.’

‘Not recently, though. No matter how simple the gowns you wear, I’m not deceived—the simpler the design, the costlier the price, is my experience. You’re tricked out in the absolute finest of everything—gowns, shawls, hats, even those little boots of yours are kid, if I’m not mistaken.’

‘And what, pray, monsieur, would you know about the cost of a lady’s apparel?’

‘As much as you, probably. I’ve certainly paid for enough fripperies over the years, to say nothing of having to cough up for dressmakers and milliners when the lady concerned is a—let us say intimate—acquaintance.’

‘You are referring to your mistresses, I take it.’ She was determined not to be shocked, equally determined to ignore the foolish twinge of jealousy. ‘However, my clothes are from Paris, naturellement, which makes them a little above your touch.’

He remembered her earlier jibe about a protector. What if she had not been joking after all? The idea was distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Au contraire, mademoiselle,’ Nicholas said maliciously, ‘I am well enough heeled to be able to insist that any lady under my protection wears only the very best. And well enough versed in the latest modes to see that your hard times are behind you, if your wardrobe is aught to go by.’

She gave him a direct look, alerted by the harsh note in his voice. ‘You think a man paid for them?’

‘Am I right?’

He spoke nonchalantly, but Serena was not fooled. ‘Yes.’ She waited, but he said nothing, only looked at her in that way of his that made her feel he was privy to her innermost thoughts. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Nicholas, stop looking so serious. I meant my father.’

He was unaccountably relieved, but managed not to show it. ‘Well, he must have made you a generous allowance.’ Serena did not deign to reply. ‘Do you still miss him?’ Nicholas asked her after a few moments, his voice gentler now.

‘Of course. We were very close. Don’t you miss your parents?’

‘The cases are rather different,’ he replied wryly. ‘I saw more of the servants than my parents when I was growing up. Outside school, there were various tutors, but being without siblings I was largely left to go my own way—exactly as my father did in his youth. I had money enough to indulge in all my whims, and when I grew older to support my gaming and fund my amours. My father introduced me to his club and a few of his influential friends when I came of age, and that’s about the sum of it.’

‘So you are an only child too. Did you wish for a brother or sister? I know I longed for siblings.’

‘I was an only child,’ Nicholas corrected. ‘I’ve got a half-sister now.’

‘Yes, but so much younger than you—it’s not the same.’

‘She’s about the age Melissa was when my father married her. There’s no fool like an old fool—he was completely infatuated.’

‘But Melissa made him happy?’