She laughed, then looked at her watch. “I better get dressed for dinner. And for meeting the illustrious Bella.”
“Bottomless-money-well Isabella,” Jack muttered. He got up and caught Kate’s arm. “I’ll be honest and say that I don’t really care who ran off with whom. If it was up to me, I’d let Sara stay here and research to her little heart’s content. We could pick her up on the way back. I’d like to see Scotland. I read that there’s a place you can buy cashmere sweaters for practically nothing.”
“Hawick,” Kate said, smiling up at him. “It’s on our itinerary.”
He grinned. “Should have known.” He let go of her arm. “I vote that we go. Let Sara deal with her mystery. You and I will go sightseeing.”
“Let’s do it!” Kate said. “We’ll tell her in the morning. Think she’ll be upset?”
“To be left alone in an old house with her camera and a mystery to solve? What do you think?”
“She’ll be in heaven. I need to go. We’re to meet in Bella’s apartment at seven for drinks.”
“That means dinner won’t be until eight and I’m hungry now.”
“Your American tummy will have to wait. I was told that they might be serving English beef.” She was backing toward the door. “With horseradish sauce and buttered parsnips. But maybe that’s just a rumor.”
“Yeah?”
Kate laughed at his delight. “Don’t be late.”
“Where is Bella’s apartment?” he asked, but Kate was already gone.
For a while he stayed in the barren little room, his mind full of the idea of a holiday with Kate. Sara had booked them separate rooms everywhere but he thought he could overcome that. Days of wine and heather, kilts and bagpipes. Time alone with Kate was something he’d longed for since the day he met her.
Now all he had to do was get through the evening. Tomorrow they’d leave.
Smiling, he went downstairs to the drawing room. He’d look at some fishing magazines and get his mind away from the question of who Nicky loved, why Diana ran off with Sean and how Bertie didn’t love anybody.
“I’ve got my own bad childhood,” he muttered. “I don’t need anyone else’s.”
* * *
Bella’s suite of rooms were sumptuous. Draped in green and pink silk, Marie Antoinette would have envied the place. There were tall windows curtained in silk so heavy Jack wondered how the rods held them. He had to refrain from investigating the understructure.
As for Bella, she looked as regal as the room. She was tall, with iron gray hair and a solid figure. Not fat, not thin, but straight up and down. Her face was handsome, and her clothes... Even Jack recognized the straight-cut jacket as Chanel. He’d put money on it that her tasteful little brooch of colored stones was real.
Looked like the profits of the hotel weren’t all being spent on renovations.
She was, of course, charming. Sara had told them that Bella grew up in the finest English boarding schools, had hobnobbed with the cousins of royalty. Smiling, Bella promised to take Kate shopping, admired Sara’s latest photos and asked Jack about his construction work.
“Sara told me what you did for the Morris women,” she said to Jack. “I thought you were a true hero.”
“He was,” Sara said proudly.
“We wouldn’t have continued if it hadn’t been for Jack,” Kate said.
He could feel himself beginning to blush. “So what’s for dinner?” he blurted, sounding like a workman who’d accidently been let into the palace—which he kind of was.
Bella wasn’t perturbed. “English beef, what else would we serve?”
To save him, Sara began asking questions about the estate.
* * *
Mrs. Aiken did indeed serve a dinner of slabs of rare roast beef, with buttered parsnips and roast potatoes. The food was delicious, but her “serving” showed her displeasure. She loudly dropped bowls and a platter in the middle of the table while glaring nastily at Jack.
After she stormed out of the room, Bella looked at Jack with sympathy. “I’d apologize but that would imply that things will improve. It seems that you remind her of someone she greatly disliked.”