36. London Calling: Part Two

Tenderness and passion and were never going to part of her life. Nor was romance.

She was not going to be with the sort of man who would whisk her off to Paris for the sole purpose of buying her lunch. She wouldn't have someone who would then cook her a meal that looked deceptively simple – white truffle penne – but that really was the epicurean revelation he had promised. All the while debating with her over whether or not they should be introducing specialist crops and more heritage breeds to the estate farms.

Audrey tried to remember the time when she had wished that Richard DeVere had never set foot on Grantleigh's hallowed soil, and shuddered at the thought of the emptiness and coldness of her life if he hadn't.

It had rained solidly in Paris; a constant, soaking downpour of grey that, ordinarily, would be enough to lower anyone's spirits. She hadn't cared. It had made the rich golds and reds of Maxim's glow more intensely. It had made Richard's hair curl just above his collar and she hadn't been able to stop herself from playing with it.

The rain followed them back to London, diamond glints against the ink black glass of the high windows in his flat. They closed the curtains against it.

'Do you realise that this is the longest we've been alone together? Ever?' She didn't raise her head from his shoulder.

His voice was soft, breath barely stirring her hair. 'If this is where we find out we can't actually stand one another, I'm throwing myself off the nearest ice flow.'

'There are no ice flows in London.'

'We'll just have to find a way to get along, then.'

Audrey shook her head, eyes drinking in the lines of his face. 'You are a fool.'

After dinner she had started investigating his record collection. There were the expected symphonies and operas (he was the only person she knew who went to Glyndebourne because he actually liked the music), and early jazz; but then there was also the rock n' roll, blues and soul. They argued the merits of favourite versions of songs and discovered a mutual love of bossy nova and danced together in the middle of the room.

Audrey caressed his face and he caught hold of her hand, pressing his lips against the now-bare ring finger. She had removed the bands a week ago, placing them in a box and the box in a drawer. The remnants of an old life and one that she was happy to say goodbye to. She hadn't thought that he had noticed their absence.

'You don't have to take them off,' he said.

'I wanted to. It was time. Besides, someone told me once that some things aren't worth preserving.'

'Sounds like a very clever fellow.'

'Don't push it.'

A curve of a smile tugged at his lips. 'There is something I wanted to give you.' He kept hold of one of her hands while reaching for the jacket slung across a chair, fumbled with it before turning back to her with a small box.

'How long have you been carrying that around for?' Her mouth, inexplicably, felt thick, the words hard to get out.

'Not that long.' One corner of his mouth tilted up more. 'Of course, I should have realised by now that if I'm waiting for the right time, I could be waiting forever.'

The art nouveau sensuousness of Maxim's would have fit with the sort of grand romantic gesture that Audrey imagined was Richard's idea of the right way to do this sort of thing. But here, on a rainy night in London, while Jobim conjured an imaginary of Brazil and they danced alone in the drawing room, this felt right. An intimacy that was just for them.

The emerald cut trio of diamonds glittered discreetly. 'It's beautiful.'

'And look at that, it fits.'

The cool metal encircled her finger and she twisted hers through his, her other hand brushing against his cheek. 'I adore you,' she said softly.

He held her to him, his face buried in her hair and she heard the words of devotion murmured into her ear.

It was still raining the following morning and the drumming sound on the roof was both familiar and strange. In her half-awake state, it took Audrey some minutes to make sense of things. The windows were on the wrong side of the room. The walls, now that she recognised that what she was looking at was a wall, were the wrong colour. She wasn't at the lodge; she wasn't even at the manor. And the weight pinning her down was not Bertie having managed to sneak his way into her bedroom and up onto the bed. It was Richard's arm around her waist, his breath against her neck.

She turned herself around in his embrace until she was facing him. A comma of dark hair fell across his forehead and she pushed it back, her fingers then following his hairline, the hollow at his temple, down across his cheekbone.

'That tickles.'

Audrey snatched her hand away guiltily and then scowled at him. 'I thought you were asleep.'

One eye opened and looked at her, a dark glint through his lashes. 'I was. Why aren't you?'

His hand raked through her hair, twisting through the strands.

'No reason.'

Strange sounds, the unfamiliarity of her surroundings, the even more unfamiliar sensation of being held by someone who loved her.

He smiled lazily. 'You know, if the lady is still awake, then the gentleman hasn't done his duty.'

'Oh?'

'And I know how you feel about duty.'

'It is very important,' Audrey said seriously.

His hands skimmed across her skin, a whisper that barely touched her but she felt the nerve-endings ignite, sing in response to his call. His kiss was tender, a delicate exploration of her mouth and she sighed against his lips.

There was so much pleasure in touching him, in feeling the way muscle bunched under her hands, his hard lines yielding to her touch. The weight of his body against hers. The faint salty tang of his skin and then the smoky sweetness of his lips.

Whispered words and soft cries lost in the roar of the rain.

There had been fforbes-Hamiltons present at every major battle in English history for four hundred years. There were countless portraits, of countless ancestors, in assorted military garb, hanging on the Grantleigh walls. The women were as renowned for their resilience and stalwart defiance of the enemy as their menfolk.

So if anyone had asked the current descendant of this fearless – and fearsome – tribe if she were feeling any trepidation, Audrey fforbes-Hamilton would have laughed in their face.

She was feeling trepidation, however. A lot of it.

In the back of a taxi that was taking them into the leafy suburbs of south-west London, Audrey tried to ignore the roiling in the pit of her stomach. They hardly seemed to have gone anywhere at all before they pulled up in front of a good-sized house on a quiet street in Richmond. Sunshine had followed the rain and everything glittered, the air fresh and cleansed.

Richard pulled her arm through his. 'It will be fine.'

'Of course it will. Why wouldn't it be? Why are you saying that?'

'Because you look like you're about to ride into battle.' He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. 'Come on.'

The door was opened by a large man with a pleasant, placid face, who greeted them warmly. 'Richard! Come in. You must be Audrey. Good to meet you at last!' He shook her hand; he and Richard exchanged the sort of bone-jarring slaps on arms and shoulders that seemed to connote male friendship.

'Sonia, they're here!'

From somewhere deeper in the house, a whirlwind of Pucci print, dark hair and perfume emerged and Audrey found herself caught in an enthusiastic embrace.

Sonia Thuyssen was a vivacious brunette, far more striking in person than her photographs suggested. Perfectly groomed from her gleaming curls to the tips of manicured fingers, she looked as though she'd be more at home on the Côte d'Azur. But she had an urchin-like grin that was at odds with her sophisticated appearance. And there was an unfeigned warmth in her dark eyes and Audrey felt herself start to relax a little.

The pile-up in the hallway was completed by two young boys, who began clamouring for Richard's attention, and an excitable black spaniel who answered to Ludo.

'Here, have a drink.' Michael Thuyssen pressed a gin and tonic roughly the size of an Olympic swimming pool into her hand.

'Thank you,' Audrey said a little weakly.

Sonia claimed her arm. 'Why don't you come and give me a hand, Audrey?'

'Sonia…' Richard looked at her with warning. She rolled her eyes at him.

'Go and play with the boys.'

Richard was dragged away by his nephews, Michael ambling after them. Audrey was guided down the hallway to the kitchen and her fleeting impression of the house was airy, rambling and filled with flowers, books and art.

'Not going to lie,' Sonia said, still clinging to Audrey's arm, 'I've been absolutely dying to meet you.'

Audrey laughed at that. 'I admit, I've been quite curious myself.'

The kitchen was a warm, welcoming space, with windows looking over the large back garden. Audrey could see Sonia's sons trying out their cricket skills on their uncle.

'It's a pretty basic roast chicken, I'm afraid,' Sonia said, pulling the tray out of the oven and inspecting the bird uncertainly. 'I was hoping to have you both over yesterday but Richard said you had plans.'

'Yes. We had lunch in Paris.'

Sonia burst out laughing. 'That sounds like Richard! Thank God he's stopped moping.'

Audrey tried not to sound too interested. 'Had he been?'

'Oh, yes, he's been awful ever since he sold the house.' Sonia's eyes slid towards Audrey and she grinned again. 'Although I don't think it had much to do with the house.' She took a hefty gulp of her drink.

Sonia was nervous herself, and that realisation softened Audrey further towards her hostess. And it was best to get the next part out of the way. 'This must be very strange for you.'

She looked up from the dish of braised radishes she had retrieved from the bottom oven. 'Because of Anna?'

Audrey nodded.

The oven doors were closed. Sonia leaned against the counter, cradling her glass in one hand. 'Anna understood the importance of happiness. She'd have been the first to approve. Well, not if she were still here – because that would have been weird. Besides,' she continued brightly, 'I've known Richard almost all my life. I remember him when he was still plain Bedrich Polouvicek. He's always been like a big brother to me, not just a brother-in-law. I miss Anna, but I'm glad he's found someone. I'm happy for him.'

A thud sounded against the wall. Rolling her eyes, Sonia pushed open the kitchen window and leant out. 'Richard DeVere, if you break my windows, I'm telling your mother!'

'Spoilsport!' came the reply.

Sonia stuck her tongue out at him, and closed the window. 'As you can see, we have a very mature relationship,' she said to Audrey.

'There've been quite a few times I've wanted to do that to him myself,' Audrey replied, her eyes dancing.

'I can imagine. Richard's one of my favourite people, but he can also be absolutely impossible. Oh, you need a top up!'

'No, I-' She hadn't really noticed drinking the last one, but it would go some way to explaining her feeling of relaxation. Another small lake of gin and tonic was deposited in Audrey's glass before she could object. Mainly gin, by the taste.

'Cheers,' Sonia said happily, clinking her own refilled glass against Audrey's.

Audrey smiled. It would be rude to refuse, after all. 'Cheers.'

'Are they always that … hospitable?' Audrey asked when they were in the back of another taxi, threading the way back to Mayfair. Her head was reeling.

'Always. Sonia isn't happy unless her guests are nearly in food-induced comas and are bordering on cirrhosis of the liver.'

The pre-lunch drinks had been followed by copious amounts of wine during lunch. Sonia seemed to find the sight of an empty plate or glass physically painful, a condition that was shared by her husband.

Michael Thuyssen's apparent placidity hid a dry, deadpan sense of humour that sparked against his wife's more outgoing personality. They were an affectionate, happy family and seemed eager to include Audrey - which was sweet, if a little overwhelming.

But Audrey was conscious of a feeling of immense gratitude towards them and the generosity of their welcoming of her.

Richard's arm tightened slightly around her shoulders as though he knew what was in her mind. 'Sonia likes you a lot.'

Audrey inclined her head to look up at him. 'How can you be so sure?'

'She told me. Can't keep anything to herself; if you want to keep a secret, don't tell Sonia. She's hopeless.'

'She's lovely.'

Richard let out a breath of laughter coloured by affection. 'Yes, she is. And so are you.'

Audrey offered him a slightly lopsided smile. He kissed her and she thought to herself that she had never been kissed in the back of a taxi before – and only realised that she had actually said it out loud when Richard murmured, 'Then it's about time you were.'

She remembered at school being warned by older, worldlier girls about the boys who were Not Safe in Taxis.

Richard was first, last and always the consummate gentleman. That did not make him any less Not Safe.

Thankfully.