'I'm starving,' the secretary wailed. 'They had drinks and sandwiches, but I can't eat in cars, it makes me sick.'
Keir appeared in time to hear that and smiled at the girl, who looked far too young to be working for Terry Lexington. Liza suspected her role in Terry's life was not entirely secretarial, but Keir, if he suspected that too, looked kindly at the girl.
'I've made arrangements for a cold buffet—it's laid out in the dining-room. My butler will show you the way after you've been up to your room.'
The girl looked completely knocked for six, pink and stammering. 'Oh, thanks, I . . . thanks.'
They all trooped up stairs, except Nicky's brawny young assistant who was ferrying heavy equipment into the house and asking, 'Where can I stack this safely, sir?'
The hall echoed with the tramp of feet, loud voices, clattering and bangs. Liza yawned and quietly went to bed, leaving them all to it. Their arrival had broken something; the gentle spell of the house, the warm summer evening, the candles in the old conservatory, the lazy voices and the lingering taste of white wine. Nicky and Terry and their crew were from another world altogether; they had crashed in on the deceptive idyll and made Liza remember she did not belong here, any more than they did.
She washed, undressed and was just getting into bed when there was a tap on her door. Warily she put on her neglige and tied her belt tightly, then opened the door.
'Oh, I'm glad you hadn't had time to get to bed yet, my dear,' Keir's mother said, smiling warmly at her. i just wanted to check that you had everything you needed, that you were comfortable.'
"Oh—yes, thank you,' Liza said, her green eyes wide and startled, but warming with pleasure at the smile Keir's mother gave her.
'I've been looking forward to meeting you, Liza.'
'Have you?' Liza was bewildered by that. Did Mrs Gifford mean it, or was she just being polite? Keir had made it crystal clear that his family didn't think her suitable for Bruno, so why should Mrs Gifford have looked forward to meeting her?
'Ever since Keir talked to me about you,' Mrs Gifford nodded. 'Tomorrow we must manage to have some time alone, to talk without anyone else around. Maybe we could have tea together? I'll see what I can arrange. Goodnight, Liza, sleep well on your first night under Hartwell's roof.'
She was gone and Liza stood there, completely numb—what had all that been about? What had Keir said to his mother about her? A flush ran up her face— surely he hadn't told his mother how he had been pursuing her? Did men confide such things to their mothers? Even today, in these broad-minded times, Liza couldn't believe any man would cheerfully tell his mother he had tried to seduce some girl. And if it wasn't the truth Keir had told Mrs Gifford, what had he said?
She got into bed, sure she wouldn't sleep because she was so on edge, but she did. Outside the grounds and gardens were very quiet, almost silent except for the occasional sound of a bird or a rustling among undergrowth—a fox, perhaps, or a hedgehog or mouse. It was pitch-black out there tonight and very warm, humid—as if a storm was on the way. If it came, Liza would sleep through it.
She woke up very early next morning; the sky was mistily blue and the birds calling sleepily among the trees. After leaning on her window-sill for some time, Liza decided to go for a walk. She showered, put on lemon cotton slacks and a matching sleeveless top with a white and lemon overblouse, and quietly made her way out of the house. All was silent; nobody was about. They must all be sleeping late, including the servants, Liza thought, until she heard faint muffled sounds from the rear of the house later and realised that there were people working in the kitchens.
It was cooler than it had been; perhaps that storm had broken last night while she had slept? The immaculate lawns glistened with dew, and so did the formal rose-beds; red and white and full-hearted glossy pink. Liza wandered slowly, admiring the velvety flowers, watching a sleepy bumble-bee blundering from one to another on his first run of the day. He was the only bee out gathering pollen; like her he was an early riser, she thought, smilingly watching him.
A gate creaked behind her. She turned, startled, to see Keir coming from another garden. He halted, seeing her, his black brows lifting.
'You're up early!'
'So are you.'
He smiled wryly. 'A boring habit of mine, I'm afraid— picked up when I was a boy. I've never been able to stay in bed once I'm awake, and I'm always woken up by the first light. Napoleon had the same problem; he hated any light in his bedroom, even a candle outside in the corridor could wake him up.'
'Oh, something else you have in common with him!' commented Liza, fondling the soft, long ears of the black spaniels with him and, watching her, Keir looked amused.
'Other than what, or shouldn't I ask?' 'Megalomania?' she suggested demurely and he laughed.
'I knew it would be something like that, but you can't make me angry—not this morning, it's far too lovely.' His eyes slid over her with unhidden enjoyment. 'And so are you.'
She felt her colour heighten and hurriedly turned back towards the house, which stood among its gardens glowing in the early-morning light, the stone given a creamy gold warmth.
'Don't go in yet,' Keir said, catching her hand. 'Come for a walk with me. I haven't had a chance to get you alone yet.'
The back of her neck prickled tensely; he was using that voice which disturbed her, deep, warm, intimate. It made her edgy because she knew it aroused her, and she suspected he knew it too.
'I don't think that would be a good idea,' she said, pulling free and walking quickly across the lawn, but Keir kept up with her and suddenly steered her sideways towards some stone steps leading to a lower terrace.
'Come and see the topiary,' he urged and Liza glanced downwards and was delighted by the yew trees clipped into the shapes of chessmen, peacocks, pyramids.
'How marvellous!' she said, moving towards them, and Keir told her that his mother had been very keen on topiary at one time, but she found it too tiring now and the gardeners kept the yews clipped into shape for her.
He was wearing very casual summer clothes this morning—an open-necked cream shirt without a tie, light blue trousers and some slip-on cream leather shoes that looked hand-made, they were so elegant. He talked about the topiary and his mother, and she listened, but her eyes were busy absorbing everything about him. His black hair gleamed in sunlight like a bird's wing, she thought, dreamily, and her mouth went dry because she knew she was falling in love and she couldn't stop herself. It was like falling down a deep, dark cavern towards the sound of the sea—a dreamlike, inevitable fate which she felt she had expected from the minute they had first met, although she had fought it off with angry reluctance.