A Deal To Mend Their Marriage

* * *

Caro tiptoed past the disused pantry, and the butler’s and housekeeper’s offices—both of which had been vacant for as long as she could remember. The kitchen stretched all along the other side of these old rooms, with the small sitting room Paul used as his office on the other side of the kitchen. She’d chosen this route so as to not disturb him, but she tiptoed just the same. The man had bat-like hearing.

Lifting the latch on the back door, she stepped out into the darkness of the garden, just as she’d promised Jack she would. She glanced around, wondering in what corner he lurked and watched her from. Feigning indifference, she lifted her head and gazed up at the night sky, but if there were any stars to be seen they were currently obscured by low cloud.

She knew from past experience, though, that one rarely saw stars here—the city lights kept the stars at bay and, as her father had always told her, star-gazing never got anybody anywhere in life.

‘Tell that to astronomers and astronauts,’ she murmured under her breath.

‘Miss Caroline?’

Paul appeared in the kitchen doorway. Caro wiped suddenly damp palms down her skirt. No one was supposed to see her out here.

‘Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.’

She turned towards him. ‘Are you sure there isn’t anything I can help you with?’

‘Certainly not.’

In his youth, Paul had trained as a chef. With the help of an army of maids, who came in twice a week, Paul had kept this house running single-handed for nearly thirty years. Although, as her father had rarely entertained, the position hadn’t been a demanding one.

When she was a child she’d spent most of the year away at boarding school. So for nearly fifteen years—before her father had married Barbara—it had just been her father and Paul rattling around together in this big old house.

Some sixth sense—a hyper-awareness that flashed an odd tingling warmth across her skin—informed her that Jack stood in the shadows of a large rhododendron bush to her left. It took all her strength not to turn towards it. She’d wanted to let Paul in on their plan—his help would have been invaluable, and for a start she wouldn’t be tiptoeing through the house in the dark, unlatching doors—but Jack had sworn her to secrecy.

And as he happened to be the surveillance expert...

She reached Paul’s side and drew him to the right, away from Jack, pointing up at the steepled roofline. ‘Did you know that one night, when I was ten, I walked all the way along that roofline?’

Paul glanced up and pressed a hand to his chest. ‘Good grief!’

‘I’d read a book about a cat burglar who’d made his way across London by jumping from roof to roof.’

‘Tell me you didn’t?’ Paul groaned.

She laughed. From the corner of her eye she saw a shadow slip through the door. ‘Mrs Thomas-Fraser’s Alsatian dog started up such a racket that I hightailed it back to my room before the alarm could be raised.’

‘You could’ve fallen! If I’d know about that back then it would have taken ten years off my life.’

Caro shook her head. ‘I can hardly believe now that I ever dared such a thing. Seriously, Paul, who’d have children?’

He chuckled and patted her shoulder. ‘You were a delight.’

To Paul, perhaps, but never to her father.

‘Come along.’ He drew her into the house. ‘You’ll catch a chill if you’re not careful.’

She wanted to laugh. A chill? It was summer! He was such a fusspot.

‘I don’t suppose I could talk you into joining Barbara and I for dinner?’

‘You suppose right. It wouldn’t be seemly.’

Seriously—he belonged in an England of a bygone age. ‘Oh, I should go and lock the other door.’

‘I’ll take care of it.’

To insist would raise his suspicions. ‘Paul, do we have any headache tablets?’

He pointed to a cupboard.

When he’d gone, she popped two tablets and unlatched the kitchen door—just in case. This sneaking around business was not for the faint-hearted.

* * *

Barbara sliced into her fillet of sole. ‘Caroline, do I need to remind you that if your father had wanted me to inherit any portion of his estate, he’d have named me in his will?’

Caro swallowed. ‘You only call me Caroline when you’re cross with me.’

Barbara’s gaze lifted.

‘I didn’t know he was going to do this, Barbara. I swear. I wish he’d left it all to you.’

Her stepmother’s gaze lowered. She fiddled with the napkin in her lap.

‘And if he had left it all to you,’ Caro continued, ‘I know you’d have made sure that I received a portion of it.’

‘Of course—but that’s different.’

‘How?’

‘This money has been in your family for generations. It’s your birthright.’

Twaddle. ‘I mean to give Paul a generous legacy too. He’ll need a pension to see him through retirement.’

‘That man’s a rogue. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t weaselled enough bonuses out of your father over the years to see him through two retirements.’

‘Even if he has, he’ll have earned every penny.’

The other woman’s gaze narrowed. ‘You and your father—you never could find any common ground. You didn’t understand each other. You never brought out the best in him. And—you’ll have to forgive me for saying this, Caro, darling—you were never at your best when you were around him either.’

Caro opened her mouth to dispute that, then shot her stepmother a half smile. How could Barbara still defend him after he’d treated her so shabbily? ‘Okay, I’ll concede that point.’

Where was Jack at this very moment? Was he in Barbara’s room, scanning its every hiding place? Had he found the snuffbox yet?

The thought of Jack prowling about upstairs filled her with the oddest adrenaline rush—similar to the one she’d had as a ten-year-old, when she’d inched across the mansion’s roof. It made her realise how boring her life had become.

Not boring! Predictable.