Was she the only one who was aware of the sarcastic inflection behind the words? Genista wondered miserably. Jilly’s ecstatic chatter filled the awkward silence Luke’s announcement had provoked. Bob congratulated them stiltedly, and Genista knew that his thoughts were on Elaine. Poor Bob! She wished there was some way she could help him.
‘You’ll be giving up your job, of course?’ Jilly mused. ‘Does Luke have a flat in London? Nice, but hardly suitable for children,’ she added, betraying quite plainly the direction her thoughts were taking.
‘You’re ahead of us there,’ Luke responded lightly. ‘But as it happens I don’t live in London. I have a house about fifty miles away. It’s in the country, and the pleasure of returning to it after a day cooped up in an office more than makes up for the travelling involved.’
‘And now it will be even more pleasurable because you’ll have Genista to go home to,’ Jilly murmured. ‘You’ve always loved the country, haven’t you, Gen? She’s a small town girl at heart—but then I expect you already know that?’
‘We haven’t had a lot of time to catch up on each other’s backgrounds,’ Luke replied succinctly. ‘We’ve been too involved with more immediate concerns.’
Jilly laughed delightedly when Genista coloured.
‘Well, I think it’s wonderful. My only complaint is that I didn’t get an invitation to the wedding.’
‘It was a very quiet ceremony,’ Genista told her quietly. ‘We were married by Luke’s godfather, in the Lake District.’
‘What did you wear?’ Jilly demanded. ‘I want to know all the details.’
‘A pale green silk suit,’ Luke said promptly before Genista could answer. His arm circled her waist, holding her against him, the look in his eyes full of tenderness as he added softly, ‘And very beautiful she looked in it too.’
It was only to keep up appearances, of course, but even so, her heart pounded with dizzy pleasure for a briefly betraying moment before she reminded herself sternly that it meant nothing.
‘Green silk? Oh, not that gorgeous outfit you bought the other week, Gen?’ Jilly exclaimed. ‘The one you were going to wear for the christening?’
Genista could feel Luke watching her, and the tiny scraps of paper which had once been his cheque seemed to burn a hole in her handbag.
‘Thrifty as well as beautiful!’
The light words held an undercurrent of steel that made Genista dread the time when they were alone. Luke had specified that she was not to wear clothes paid for by anyone else, and neither had she done, so why should he be annoyed because she had not used his cheque?
‘You’re very quiet, Bob?’
Genista frowned a little at the challenge in the quietly spoken words. Was Luke trying subtly to remind her of the weapon he still held? He need not have done.
‘Old age creeping up on me, I suppose,’ Bob replied lightly. ‘Genista knows I wish her all the happiness in the world. She deserves it, and I suspect it’s very selfish of me to worry about how I’m going to replace her.’
‘Very,’ Luke agreed coolly. ‘But I’m afraid you’ll have to. Genista will have more than enough to do running our home, and no newly married man wants to find his wife dropping with exhaustion every evening.’
The pointed comment made Genista’s cheeks burn. Jilly winked at her and hissed conspiratorially, ‘Lucky thing! What I wouldn’t give to be waiting for Luke to come home to me every night!’
They left shortly afterwards. Luke tossed the files he had collected on to the back seat of the Maserati as he opened the passenger door.
This time the silence between them seemed to have an added ingredient of hostility, and Genista’s head began to throb painfully with the tension gripping her body.
They drove east, along the M4 in the direction of Bath, the countryside rolling and unfamiliar. Some forty miles outside London Luke took a slip road off the motorway and in the gathering dusk Genista gained only a vague impression of high hedges and narrow winding roads.
Luke switched on the cassette player and the strains of Debussy filled the car. Genista tried to relax her tense muscles, but it was impossible. The intimacy of the car seemed to close over her, like a thick, muffling blanket. Luke, on the other hand, appeared completely relaxed. She stole a look at his remote profile. He was concentrating on the road ahead, but the anger which had seemed to grip him as they left the office had gone. His shirt was open at the throat and memories of how his body had felt beneath her urgent fingers poured over her.
‘What’s wrong? Have I suddenly grown another head?’
She looked away quickly, hating herself for being caught out staring at him. She was like a miser, greedily studying his gold, storing up memories for the time when he might no longer be able to look upon the real article.
They were deep in the country. In front of them a Tudor farmhouse materialised out of the dusk, the black and white façade of the upper storeys picked out by the new moon.
The house had an air of serenity that soothed Genista’s bruised heart. It seemed to reach out and embrace her, and she wondered idly to whom it belonged. Some rich landowner, no doubt. From the front it resembled an ‘E’ without the middle, the two outer wings like arms protecting the main body of the building.
As the Maserati purred throatily towards the locked gates she started in surprise. Luke flicked a switch inside the car and they opened automatically. This time Genista did not look away when he returned her stare.
‘This is your home?’