The Baby Claim

‘What would I do without you, Sarah?’ he said warmly.

She smiled at him serenely, and turned to Joss. ‘Francis will give you my extension number, so if you need any further information just ring me and I’ll provide it.’

‘A lot better than I can,’ said Francis wryly.

Joss thanked her, then watched thoughtfully as Francis escorted his attractive right hand from the room. Sarah Wilcox might not be Lady Morville, but it was plain to the onlooker, if not to His Lordship, that she would like to be.

When Francis got back he topped up Joss’s glass and told her Mrs Wyatt was the lady who looked after him during the week. ‘I fend for myself on weekends, but when Sarah heard you were coming for lunch she insisted on organising it. Very efficient lady, young Sarah.’

‘A very attractive one, too,’ said Joss.

Francis looked blank. ‘Sarah? Yes,’ he said, surprised. ‘I suppose she is.’

‘Is this actually a working farm?’ asked Joss.

‘Not any more. I won’t bore you with politics, but we gave up farming a few years ago as no longer feasible. But we do a roaring trade in shrubs and bedding plants, and every type of herb imaginable—and people come from miles around to buy Sam’s organic vegetables.’

‘Who’s Sam?’

‘Used to be head gardener at one time, officially now retired. But he still terrorises the groundstaff here. When I was a schoolboy I don’t know who frightened me more, Sam or my father. Ah, good.’ Francis opened one of the windows and leaned out. ‘Hurry it up, Dan, I’m hungry.’ He turned back to Joss with a smile. ‘I persuaded a friend of mine to join us for lunch. Let’s go straight to the table.’

The dining room was across the hall, with more panelling, and a table set for three with a posy of flowers for centrepiece.

‘Courtesy of Sarah?’ asked Joss, then her smile congealed on her face as a man loomed in the doorway, ducking his head to enter the room. Instead of a formal suit he wore jeans and a thin dark blue shirt, but there was no mistaking his identity. Or the face which hardened to a mask at the sight of her.

‘Perfect timing, Dan,’ said Francis, grinning. ‘Let me introduce Miss Joscelyn Hunter—Joss to her friends, she tells me. Joss, this is Daniel Armstrong.’ He looked from one rigid face to the other, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. ‘Ah! You two know each other already.’