The Rich Man's Bride

‘You don’t have to wait.’

‘Don’t talk rot,’ he said brusquely.

Anna groaned in dismay. ‘You can’t make tea. They’ve taken the kettle.’

‘What a townie you are these days,’ he mocked. ‘A saucepan on the stove will do the job just as well—provided they left the tea.’

‘It should be in the caddy with the portrait of the Queen.’

‘I know. Hector often made tea for me in that big brown pot,’ said Ryder soberly. ‘I miss him too, Anna—’ He broke off as the bell rang and went to the door to let in the police.

The constables who came in answer to Anna’s call had known Hector Morton well. They offered condolences, made a thorough inspection and found the window broken in the spare bedroom. The burglar had climbed up the wisteria, smashed the glass next to the window latch and hopped over the window sill, splintering wood and tearing curtains down in the process as he rushed to let his partner in through the front door. Ryder assured the policemen that he’d block up the window until a glazier could be organised and, after providing the men with a list of everything she knew to be missing, Anna felt weary by the time they left.

‘I don’t care about the television and the electrical stuff they took,’ she told Ryder as he finally gave her the promised tea, ‘but the paintings and plates and the kitchen clock were Gramp’s wedding presents.’

‘It won’t be easy to track them down, Anna. There are so many cop shows on television every likely lad wears gloves to do his breaking and entering these days,’ he pointed out.

She nodded, depressed. ‘Dad’s coming to take me to lunch tomorrow. When I tell him about this he’ll insist on taking me home with him. In the meantime I’d better ring the Red Lion—’

‘Why?’

She pulled a face. ‘I don’t fancy sleeping here tonight with a broken window for company.’

‘You’re not going to. You’re coming home with me.’

Anna stared at him in surprise. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

She could think of a great many reasons, none of which she wanted to share with Ryder.

‘I’m not exactly short of bedrooms,’ he reminded her. ‘And Mrs Carter is still around. God knows what I’ll do when she retires. She’s been a godsend since I took over. I employ plenty of help from the village, but she’s getting on a bit and does so much I tend to worry about her.’

‘Is staff easy to find?’

‘The women who help in the house have been working there for years, so up to now the problem hasn’t arisen. The estate manager retired recently and I haven’t found anyone to take over his job yet so I’m doing that myself as a learning exercise. My father and Eddy died within months of each other, which meant double death duties, so there’s a lot to sort out.’

‘So Dominic told me.’

Ryder smiled sardonically. ‘Did he mention that my engagement ended about that time as well?’

‘No, he didn’t. Tom told me only recently. I’m sorry,’ she added awkwardly.

He shrugged. ‘Past history now. Right then, Anna, if you can supply me with a plastic bag I’ll raid Hector’s tool box for some masking tape and seal that window while you pack some things for the night.’

Not, thought Anna as she handed him a bin liner, that she was as sorry as she should be about the missing fiancée. Edwina French had been one of the unfriendly girls at the party all those years ago.

Ryder made short work of sealing the bedroom window, made a note of the splintered ledge and crumbling plaster the burglar had left in his wake, and went along the landing to Anna’s room. He frowned when he saw the tangle of underwear on her floor. ‘You can’t wear any of that!’

‘Absolutely not,’ she said, shuddering, and stepped over it to look in her wardrobe. ‘Nothing seems to be touched in here, thank goodness. My sweaters are still in their polythene bags. I’ll just throw the other things in the bath—’

‘Stuff them in a bag instead and take them with you. Mrs Carter will run them through the washing machine and have them ready by morning.’

‘The poor woman has enough to do without that. I’ll ask her to let me do it,’ said Anna firmly.

‘You can ask, but she’ll take one look at you and rush you off to bed.’

Ryder was right. He rang Mrs Carter to tell her he was bringing Anna to stay the night, and why, and by the time they arrived she had prepared a room and had the kitchen door open the moment Ryder drove into the back courtyard. Neat as always in a navy dress and flowered apron, every grey hair in place, she beamed in welcome as Ryder helped Anna down from the Land Rover.

Unlike the black and white half-timbered houses common to most local architecture, the Manor was a classic Georgian cube with a pillared portico and floor to ceiling windows. Anna glanced up at them with a shiver, remembering the light blazing from them as she made her escape from Ryder’s party all those years ago.

‘Here she is, Martha,’ said Ryder.

‘You poor dear,’ said the housekeeper as Ryder took Anna inside. ‘What a thing to happen.’

‘I’m sorry to give you so much trouble, Mrs Carter,’ said Anna. ‘Ryder said you wouldn’t mind if I put some things in your washing machine. The intruder pawed through them and left them in a heap on the floor.’

‘Dirty beast,’ said Mrs Carter fiercely. ‘Just you hand them over, dear. I’ll see to them. I’ve put you in the little blue guest room because it heats up the quickest, but I’ve put hot-water bottles in the bed just in case. I’ll bring you a tray of supper after you’ve had a rest.’

Maternal coddling had been missing from Anna’s life since she was eight and, after the shock of the robbery, it was the last straw for her self-control. ‘So sorry,’ she said thickly, mopping at tears.

‘Don’t you apologise. You’ve got every right to cry after such a nasty shock. Now, I’ll see to these things while Mr Ryder takes you up to your room.’

Anna blew her nose and followed Ryder up a panelled staircase lined with portraits of former Wyndhams. He took her along the landing to a small, reassuringly cosy guest room, eyeing her searchingly as he put her bag down. ‘Do you really want to go straight to bed?’

She shook her head. ‘Are you going out?’ she asked awkwardly.

‘No.’

‘Then could I just sit downstairs with you?’

‘Of course,’ he said courteously. ‘If that’s what you prefer, I’d be delighted to have your company, Anna. I’ll tell Martha. Your bathroom’s through that blue door. In the meantime, take it easy for a while. I’ll be back for you in an hour.’

Anna felt grubby from mere contact with the clothes the intruder had handled. She would have liked a bath, but with no clean underwear at her disposal she contented herself with a vigorous wash before changing into the red sweater she’d packed. When Ryder came back for her she was sitting in a small blue armchair by the window, leafing through out-of-date magazines.

‘You look much better,’ he said in approval, then smiled as he noticed her reading matter. ‘We used to provide those for guests, but I haven’t done much entertaining since my father and Eddy died.’

‘Because you’re still grieving for them, Ryder?’ asked Anna, surprised to feel a pang of sympathy.

‘That’s certainly part of it. Losing them both in such a short space of time was pretty devastating. I needed time to myself to mourn them. I was also landed with a job I wasn’t trained for. Since the estate manager retired I’ve worked so damned hard I don’t have much inclination for socialising.’ He smiled wryly.

‘A lot different from life for you at one time,’ she commented.

‘Too true. In the old days in the City, juggling with other people’s millions, I burnt the candle at both ends, never imagining that one day I’d have to take over here. Eddy was the heir; I was just the spare.’ He smiled. ‘Dominic refers to himself as The Accident.’

‘During the very brief time we spent together,’ said Anna very deliberately, ‘Dominic told me he’s doing well at his auction house.’

Ryder acknowledged her barb with a wry smile. ‘He’ll do even better after he marries the founder’s granddaughter.’