‘But you didn’t?’
‘A new cook started.’ Marcus smiled and he glanced at the tray he had brought up and saw that the cake was untouched. ‘Shirley. You have no idea how many times she tried to get that cake right...’ He didn’t elaborate. ‘Of course, we’ve never told the Thomases about us—they’d have had us moved to couples accommodation on half the wage.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ Libby was as direct as ever with her questions.
‘You asked,’ Marcus said. ‘That’s very rare around here. Anyway, suffice it to say, in a few weeks’ time Shirley and I shall retire, and it can’t come a moment too soon.’
He said no more than that, just gave a smile and wished her goodnight.
After he had gone Libby undressed and climbed into the vast bed and flicked out the side lights. Noise filtered through and she longed for the thick double-glazed windows of her little flat, which kept the sound of the buses and cars out. Here the windows were old and allowed her to listen to the guests leaving and the crunch of cars on gravel and the sound of helicopters lifting into the sky and even, at one point, Sir Richard’s voice, laughing at something someone had said and then wishing them a safe journey home.
She heard George guffaw at something and, no, her straining ears told her that Daniil wasn’t locked in conversation with them.
And she lay there, alone, and as it edged towards three in the morning she wondered if he had gone already. She didn’t know if he’d simply upped and left. Maybe he’d forgotten she was there, like some discarded bag on a train that he’d suddenly recall at midday tomorrow, and make a few half-hearted calls to retrieve.
She remembered only too well how cautious she had been when she had accepted his invitation to dinner that first night. Then she had ensured that she’d had enough money in her purse to offer an escape route.
Tonight she had none.
All she could do was wonder why he would prefer to be alone than with her.
If he was alone.
Doubts were as long and black as the shadows that were cast in the room.
Fear that she could be pregnant did not foster restful sleep. There was a need to accelerate things, to know exactly what she was dealing with, so her eyes were wide-open when, well after four, the door opened and Daniil came in.
‘Where were you?’ she said, as she listened to him undress.
‘I’ve never answered that question in my life and I don’t intend to start now.’
‘So I’m supposed to just lie here, waiting...’
‘I never asked you to wait up for me.’
It disconcerted him that she had. Daniil had assumed that Libby would have been asleep long ago. He was used to operating on his own hours and he wasn’t used to accounting for his time.
‘I hope she was worth it.’ Libby closed her eyes in regret as soon as that sentence was out. It sounded jealous, suspicious, needy, but, hell, four hours waiting for the master to return and that was exactly how she felt. ‘Were you with Charlotte?’
‘Grow up!’ Daniil said. ‘Do you really think I’ve spent the past few hours flirting with some ghost from my past? Making out with Dr Stephenson’s daughter to get my kicks...?’ His voice trailed off and she listened to him undress.
‘Is that what you used to do?’ Libby asked. ‘Was she a part of your rebellion?’
‘Yep.’ Daniil’s response was blithe.
‘Any other ex-lovers here tonight?’ she asked, as she lay there bristling.
‘Many,’ Daniil answered. ‘The village pub closes at eleven—which was far too early to come back to this hellhole.’ He climbed into bed and she could feel the cool come in under the sheets and it dawned on her that he had spent all that time outside.
Rather than be here with her.
‘All I know is...’ Libby started, but didn’t finish.
‘All you know is what?’ he said, pushing her to complete whatever it was she had been about to say.
‘Nothing,’ she admitted. ‘I have no idea where we are or where we’re going...’ She turned and looked at him. He was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, with his hands behind his head, and though sharing a bed he might just as well have been in another room.
‘Nowhere,’ Daniil said. ‘I told you the night we met—we’re going nowhere.’
‘Bastard.’
‘You have no idea the bastard I can be, Libby.’
‘I’m starting to find out,’ she said. ‘I don’t understand what’s happened. I know that something has, but rather than tell me you’d leave me lying here, wondering where the hell you were.’