Judge Master laughed. 'Bertie made this will when you were sixteen; he did think about changing it, but, as you and Justin married, there was no real point. It's all in the family anyway.'
The staff left the room, and then Judge Master revealed the extent of the estate. It was not a great deal of money but, with the house, a very nice legacy. She felt Justin tense beside her, and she shot him a puzzled look, but he ignored her, his gaze fixed on Judge Master.
'With the house included, if he didn't make prior arrangements, the
death duty will be quite considerable.' Justin was all business, and Zoe felt oddly excluded as the two men talked literally over her head.
'Yes, I did warn him,' the judge responded.
'But you know Bertie—-he refused to admit he was dying right up until the end.'
'I shouldn't worry about the tax, though. Zoe is twenty-one in a month, when she will obtain control of her trust fund from her parents, I was talking to the lawyer in New York only a few days ago, and, with the reissue of an old film of her father's about dinosaurs, apparently her trust fund is quite healthy.'
'How healthy exactly?' Justin asked quietly.
'Double what Bertie left, so the tax should not be a problem. Mind you, I would advise you to sell this place; it's far too big for this day and age. Maintenance alone was always a drain on Bertie's funds.'
'Do you mind, gentlemen? I am sitting here,' Zoe intervened, and wanted to laugh as the two males in the room turned to look at her as though she were some apparition.
Judge Master was the first to recover. 'Yes, of course. It has been a long day; Justin and I can discuss all this in a day or two, and I'd better be making tracks or Mary will not be pleased.'
Zoe smiled; she liked Judge Master and, after the conversation she had overheard earlier, she appreciated his wife, who had defended her against the infamous Sara Blacket.
Justin rose to his feet and walked across to the cabinet in the corner of the oak-panelled study. 'You will join me in a drink, Judge? I need one.' He picked up a bottle of whisky, opened it and poured a large shot into a crystal tumbler before adding, 'How about you, Zoe?'
She looked across at her husband; his back was to her, his shoulders tense, and, as she watched, his dark head tilted back as he lifted the glass to his mouth and drank. It was unusual for Justin to drink spirits—an occasional glass of wine was more his style.
'Zoe.' Justin turned, glass in hand. 'Do you want one?' he asked again, his expression austere.
'No. You and the judge carry on. I'll go and find Mary.'
Ten minutes later, she stood in the entrance hall and thanked Judge Master for all his help, but her glance kept straying to Justin at her side as she said goodbye to the couple. She had the oddest feeling that although he was there he was not really with her.
The door closed behind Judge and Mary Master and she sighed in relief.
'At last it's all over,' she murmured, her eyes seeking her husband's. He had been a tower of strength all through the death, the funeral, everything. She could never have managed without him, and all she wanted now was to feel the comfort of his arms around her.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit, a stark white shirt and the obligatory black tie, he looked all powerful, virile male, as though nothing could touch him or those he cared for. He was her rock, her comfort and her lover, and she had never needed him more than now. She stepped towards him.
'I have some work to attend to, Zoe; I'll see you at dinner.'
She shot him a pleading if puzzled glance and could have sworn that he was avoiding her eyes. 'Yes, OK.' But she doubted whether he heard her as she was talking to his back.
CHAPTER TWO
Zoe knocked on the heavy oak door, turned the handle, opened it and entered the study. Justin was sitting behind the huge mahogany desk in what used to be Uncle Bertie's chair, his broad shoulders hunched, his head buried in a mass of papers.
He had removed his jacket and tie, and his white shirt was open at the neck, the sleeves rolled back to reveal sinewy forearms sprinkled with a downy covering of dark hair. He looked stern and somehow remote. She moved silently across the room but he sensed her presence, his proud head lifting.
'Yes?' he said distantly.
'It's eight—dinner is ready.' She shook her head in disgust at his vacant look, her long blonde hair floating around her shoulders in a silvery cloud as she moved to his side and leant against his broad shoulder. Placing one slender arm around his other shoulder, she added, 'You work far too hard, Justin, and it has got to stop.' She pressed a swift kiss on the top of his head. 'Come and eat.'
'I have to work hard if I expect to keep my beautiful wife in the manner to which she is accustomed,' he retorted, his sensuous mouth curving in a brief smile, and, getting to his feet, he spanned her tiny waist with his strong hands and swung her high in the air, as one would a child. 'And that's my mission in life.'
She grinned down into his handsome face, thrilled by the compliment. 'Not any more, you don't, if what Judge Master said about my trust fund is correct,' she teased.
Justin looked up at her, all trace of amusement deserting his hard features, and abruptly he lowered her to the ground. 'Yes, of course. Apparently I've married a woman of means,' he drawled, stepping back and rolling down the sleeves of his shirt. 'The tax man will certainly see it that way,' he added with dry sarcasm, hooking his jacket with one hand as he headed for the door, and flinging over his shoulder, 'Let's eat.'