Harriet opened her eyes to see James standing in a shaft of moonlight at the end of the bed.
She smiled at him drowsily for a moment, and then shot upright in shock. It was no dream. He was here, in the flesh.
âI frightened you,â said James tersely. âIâm sorry. I didnât expect to find you here.â
She pulled the sheet up over the heart banging against her ribs. âBut you knew I was coming to La Fattoria.â
âI meant here in my room.â
âOh.â She heaved in a shaky breath. âI didnât know it was your room.â
James took in a deep breath. âGo back to sleep. Weâll talk in the morning.â
The door closed behind him and Harrietâs heart was still thumping from the shock of finding a man in her room. Only it wasnât just a man, it was James. She slid out of bed, and then snatched at her dressing gown as the door flew open and James strode in againâ¦.
HARRIET let herself into the still, empty house, but instead of making her usual nostalgic tour went straight to the kitchen to make a pot of the expensive coffee brought along for brain fuel. It was crunch time. She had to get to grips right away with the problem sheâd taken a weekâs holiday leave to solve. Before she went back to London a decision had to be made about her legacy. Her grandmother had made it very clear in her will that End House and its contents were to be left to Harriet to dispose of exactly as she wished. But what she wished, thought Harriet fiercely, was that her grandmother were still alive, and that any minute sheâd come in from the garden with a bunch of herbs in her hand, demanding help to make supper.
When the coffee-pot was empty Harriet took her bags upstairs and, because this might be the last time she ever slept here, put them in her grandmotherâs room for the first time instead of her own. She ran a caressing hand over the brass rails of the bed, hung up some of her things in the oak armoire, and folded the rest away in the beautiful Georgian chest. Olivia Verney had disapproved of clothes flung down on chairs. Harriet grinned as she made up the bed. A good thing her grandmother had never seen her flatmateâs bedroom. Dido Parker was a good friend, and good at her job, but tidy she was not.
After supper Harriet made some phone calls to announce her arrival, watered the array of plants in the conservatory, and had just settled down to read in the last of the evening light when she heard a car stop outside. She got up to look, and dodged back in dismay when she recognised the driver. But there was no point in hiding behind the sofa. Tim had probably told his brother she was here.
When the knock came on the door, Harriet counted to five before opening it to confront the tall figure of James Edward Devereux.
She gave him a cool smile. âHello. Iâm afraid Timâs not here. I came on my own.â
âI know that. May I come in?â
As if she could refuse, she thought irritably, and showed him into the small, elegantly furnished sitting room.
Her visitor was silent for a moment as he looked at his surroundings. âItâs months since your grandmother died, but here in her house it seems only right to offer my condolences again, Harriet.â
âThank you. Do sit down.â
âI liked your grandmother very much,â he said, choosing Olivia Verneyâs favourite chair. âI was deeply sorry I couldnât make it to the funeral. I went down with some virus at the time.â
âI heard.â She perched on the edge of the sofa, feeling edgy. Sheâd known Timâs brother since she was thirteen years old, and lately sheâd even run into him in London once or twice, but theyâd never been alone together before. What on earth was he doing here?
âIt must have been a shock when she left you so suddenly,â he said with sympathy.
Harriet nodded soberly. âA shock for me, but great for her.â
âTrue.â James Devereux became suddenly businesslike. âRight, then, Harriet, Iâll get to the point. Did Mrs Verney tell you Iâd approached her about selling the house to me?â
She stared at him blankly. âThis house?â
âYes. The others in the row already belong to Edenhurstââ
âYou mean to you.â
âYes, Harriet, to me,â he said patiently. âI need more staff accommodation, and End House would be ideal.â
âSorry,â she said instantly. âItâs not for sale.â