‘He owns a stud,’ Vanessa hissed, pasting on a smile as Richard approached. Richard usually called before dropping in and if he had done so this morning she could have warned him off. As it was he couldn’t have chosen a worse time to turn up out of the blue.
To compensate for her guilty thoughts she strove to sound as welcoming as possible and ended up sounding disgustingly coy. ‘Hello, Richard. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.’
Before he could reply Benedict Savage smoothly interposed himself into the conversation by holding out his hand. ‘Hello. Wells, isn’t it? I was just saying I didn’t realise anyone knew I was home.’
‘Actually, I came to see Van,’ said Richard, smiling pleasantly as he shook hands. Even standing on the second step down he almost topped them both, his bulky oatmeal sweater under the well-worn tweed jacket and working jeans tucked into calf-length boots emphasising his powerful frame. ‘She gave me the impression last night that you weren’t expected back for a while yet.’
Vanessa tensed. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility for Benedict, in his present self-confessed state of unpredictable moodiness, to make some crass joke about the cat being away.
To her relief, ‘I’m beginning to recognise a certain charm about the place,’ was all he said. ‘Would you like to come in? We’ve been looking over the house and were just about to break for coffee.’
That was news to Vanessa, since she would have been the one serving it. He also gave their activities a companionable sound that they had definitely lacked.
‘No, thanks.’ Richard shook his blond head. ‘I just called to drop something off to Van.’ He produced the ‘something’ from his jacket pocket—the tiny vial of perfume that she had filled from the fragile main bottle in her bedroom so that she could carry it in her evening bag. ‘It must have dropped on to the floor of my car when you got your keys out.’
Vanessa was hard put to it not to snatch it out of his hand. All it would probably take would be one whiff and Benedict Savage, with his wretchedly superb memory, would connect it instantly with his fragrant ghost!
‘Thank you, Richard,’ she said, taking it gingerly in her long fingers and tucking it securely in the buttoned breast pocket of her blouse. ‘But you needn’t have made a special trip.’
‘I didn’t,’ he said in his usual prosaic manner. ‘I’m on my way to the vet’s and had to go past your gate anyway, so I thought I may as well stop.’ His brown eyes crinkled knowingly. ‘I also thought it’d give me a chance to check on your health. How’s the head this morning?’
Vanessa was aware of Benedict’s own head turning her way. ‘Fine, thanks,’ she said hurriedly.
‘Were you feeling ill last night?’ Benedict sou
nded nettled as he studied her profile. ‘You could have asked me for the day off. I don’t expect you to work until you drop.’
‘I was thinking more of her feeling ill because of last night.’ Richard grinned genially. ‘Vanessa had a few too many glasses of champagne.’
‘Oh?’ Even though she wasn’t looking at him she could just see the blue eyes sharpen with interest. For the first time Vanessa regretted the qualities that had attracted her to Richard in the first place—his frank openness and the friendly good nature that was incapable of recognising malice. ‘Celebrating something, were you?’
‘The sale of a stallion of mine...and the pleasure of a pretty lady’s company, of course,’ added Richard gallantly.
‘Of course,’ repeated Benedict drily and Vanessa swung her head to glare at him. ‘I hope you don’t mind accepting second-place stakes,’ he said blandly, confirming her suspicion that he was laughing at them.
She forgot that she was only interested in curtailing the conversation. ‘I’m flattered that Richard wants to share his successes with me. His stud is developing a reputation for producing some of the best thoroughbred horses in Australasia.’ There—now let him try to dismiss Richard as an unsophisticated country hick!
‘You mean I can expect my butler to come home legless at fairly regular intervals?’ was the droll reply.
‘I wasn’t legless,’ Vanessa protested coolly, ‘I was merely...’ She searched for a properly dignified word.
‘Over-tired,’ Richard interceded diplomatically, then spoiled it by joking, ‘Van is a very quiet drunk.’
‘No sea-shanties? No brawling? No dancing on the tables?’ Benedict smiled engagingly and Richard’s good nature fell for it like a ton of bricks.
‘I should never have let her polish off most of that second bottle,’ he confided, with a grin of masculine fellowship. ‘But since I was driving she said it was her moral responsibility to make sure I didn’t stray over the alcohol limit. What could I say? Of course, that was before she began to see the funny side of things. I’m afraid I had to hustle her home early when the dreaded giggles struck.’
‘You giggle?’ Benedict raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her, as well he might. Her face was perfectly stony, rigid with the fear that Richard was going to mention just how early he had got her home...
‘I think I’m getting that headache you mentioned now, Richard,’ she said firmly.
He laughed and accepted the heavy-handed hint. ‘And I must get on to the vet’s.’
‘Are you sure you won’t come in? We could have a chat while “Van” finds her aspirin.’
Vanessa gritted her teeth, but fortunately Richard was proof against further charm. ‘Some other time. Will you be staying long?’
‘I’m not sure. It depends,’ Benedict responded with typical reserve, and then took Vanessa’s breath away by saying casually, ‘I’m considering sectioning off part of the upstairs as a private apartment and putting a manager in to handle the hotel side of things. The finishing work isn’t so far advanced that it couldn’t accommodate a few more structural alterations without involving too much extra time and money. So I may soon be here more or less permanently, Wells. At my age a man starts to think about settling down...’