‘I won’t be dancing,’ said Miranda, pulling her hand away at last and stepping back. ‘I’ll be working, remember? And you’ll be on the lookout for a bride.’
Rafe had forgotten that for a moment. She was right.
‘So I will,’ he said.
There was a tiny pause.
‘Well,’ he said a little too heartily. ‘Let’s go and ask Elvira if we can borrow her ballroom.’
They had lunch sitting round one end of a vast dining table, with portraits of Rafe’s ancestors staring ponderously down at them.
‘I don’t normally eat here,’ Elvira explained, ‘but it’s important to keep up standards when I have guests.’
‘I’m hardly a guest,’ said Rafe humorously.
‘Miranda is.’ His grandmother inspected her with a disconcertingly sharp gaze as she unfolded her napkin. ‘Fairchild? Any relation to the department store Fairchilds?’
‘Yes, except there are no stores any longer, I’m afraid.’
‘I remember your father, in that case. A charming boy, but not much grit.’ Elvira’s eyes narrowed in an effort of memory. ‘Didn’t he marry one of the Tatton girls? There were about four of them, all beauties, but one of them was a bolter, as I recall.’
Miranda’s smile didn’t falter. ‘My mother,’ she said, and Rafe winced for her. ‘She ran off with a racehorse trainer when I was twelve.’
Anyone else would have been embarrassed by the faux pas, but not his grandmother. Not a whit discomposed, Elvira studied Miranda’s face thoughtfully. ‘You don’t look much like either of your parents from what I can remember.’
‘No, I’m afraid not. My sisters are both very beautiful, though.’
‘Probably a good thing. You’ve got character instead.’ Elvira turned to her grandson. ‘Why don’t you marry Miranda?’
‘Elvira!’ Rafe threw Miranda an apologetic look. ‘Miranda’s here as my assistant, not a girlfriend!’
‘You said you wanted to get married, didn’t you?’
‘Well, yes, but-’
‘What’s the point of going to all the expense and effort of a ball if you’ve got a perfectly nice girl right in front of you?’
Miranda was quite enjoying seeing Rafe put on the spot by his forceful grandmother, but she could see a muscle working in Rafe’s jaw and decided it was time she intervened.
‘It’s nice of you to think of me,’ she said politely, ‘but I don’t want to marry Rafe.’
‘Why not?’ Elvira looked positively affronted. ‘He’s clean, and healthy, and not such an idiot as he looks! Plenty of money, too. He’d be a good catch for you.’
In spite of himself, Rafe grinned. ‘Elvira, stop, you’re making me blush!’ he said. ‘You’ll turn my head with all these compliments.’
Miranda bit back a smile. ‘I’m sure he’ll make someone an excellent husband, but it won’t be me. I’ve got other plans.’
‘Is there someone else?’
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But I don’t want to live in London. I’m saving up to restore an old cottage by the sea. I’m going to live there and set up my own business and be as self-sufficient as I can. I can’t imagine it would be the sort of life that would suit Rafe at all.’
‘I’m sorry about my grandmother,’ said Rafe as they left after lunch. ‘She can be a bit direct!’
‘I didn’t mind,’ said Miranda, clicking her seat belt into place. ‘I liked her.’
There was silence for a moment. Rafe put the car into gear and set off down the long avenue of mature trees. He was frowning slightly.
‘Was it true what you said?’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘What about?’
‘About there not being anyone else?’
‘Oh, that.’ She settled back into her seat. ‘Of course. How long do you think “anyone else” lasts once they’ve set eyes on my sister? I used to get asked out a lot, but any prospective boyfriends usually just wanted to meet Octavia, or Belinda until she was married. I gave up accepting invitations in the end.’
‘You mean you’ve never had a serious boyfriend?’
‘Well, there was Keith. I met him when I went to university. Predictably, I reacted against my upbringing and chose someone I knew my father would disapprove of. Keith was a socialist and took his politics very seriously.’
Miranda’s reminiscent smile was crooked. ‘I was absolutely sure he’d be immune to Belinda, who was the ultimate It girl then. Octavia was still at school then, fortunately, but Keith took one look at Belinda, and that was it. I vowed to never take anyone home after that, but I had to give up my course and join the firm anyway the next year, so that was that.’
Rafe made a face. ‘So you’ve given up on men?’
‘No, I’m just facing reality. I’m not the kind of girl men lose their heads over. It would be nice to think that one day I’d meet someone who didn’t care what I looked like, but in the meantime I’ve got other things,’ she said resolutely. ‘I’ve got my dream.’
‘Doing up that old cottage?’ Rafe didn’t sound impressed.
‘It’s all I want at the moment. Why do you think I’m temping, and spending my evenings passing round plates of canapes? I hate it in London,’ said Miranda more passionately than he had heard her before. ‘I can’t breathe there, and it’s got too many bad memories. I can’t wait to leave it behind!’
At the end of the avenue, they passed the lodge and went through the imposing gates Rafe’s great-grandfather had built to show the world that he had arrived. Rafe waited for a tractor to pass and then turned onto the narrow country road.
‘If you hate London that much, why don’t you just move out now?’
Miranda sighed. ‘Because I’m too practical. I inherited the cottage from my godmother, but it’s in poor condition. I don’t mind living rough but I’ll have to get the basics done, and that will cost a bit. I can earn more in London than I could elsewhere, and as long as I can live cheaply with Rosie I can save my earnings as a waitress. If nothing else, I’d need some money to live on until I can get a business up and running.’
‘What kind of business?’
Miranda looked away. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted, shamefaced. ‘It’s all too far in the future to imagine very clearly. I don’t want to think about how long it’s going to be before I can afford to even think about moving out of London, so I’m just holding onto the idea of it at the moment. I hardly ever get down there as it is. Whitestones is surprisingly isolated, and you need a car to get there. I can’t afford to hire one at the moment.’
‘Then we’d better go now,’ said Rafe as they came up to the main road. ‘Which way?’
‘It’s miles from here!’ Miranda protested, although the thought of seeing Whitestones again tugged yearningly at her.
‘It can’t be that far. We said we’d go to sea,’ he pointed out. ‘It’s only half past two. It’s too early to go back, but too late to do anything useful with the day if we do. Besides, I’d like to see this place of yours.’
‘Well, if you’re sure…’ Succumbing to temptation, Miranda leant forward and pointed right. ‘That way.’
The closer they got to the coast, the higher her spirits rose. She hadn’t been to Whitestones since Rosie had driven her down for one bitterly cold day just after Christmas and she was excited to see the cottage again.
Rafe pretended concern as she directed him down twisting country lanes. ‘Where exactly are we going, Miranda? I feel as if I’m about to drive off the edge of the earth!’
‘I told you it was isolated.’
Isolated it certainly was. Miranda showed him where to pull over in a rough patch of grass next to a gate. If he parked right up against the hedge, another car could get by if necessary…although Rafe couldn’t imagine why anyone else would be there.
He stretched and looked around him as he got out of the car. ‘Where’s the cottage?’
‘Over there.’ Miranda pointed across a field. ‘We have to walk from here.’
She led the way through the gate and cut across the field. Rafe followed gingerly. The sun was shining today but it had been a wet spring and the field was still muddy. Before he was halfway across, the bottoms of his jeans
