makes generous donations to party funds.’
‘ So is it official then?’ Lucy asked, still trying to take it in.
‘ No, that’s a long way off. It’s usual for names to be leaked to test the water and to see if anything nasty crawls out of the woodwork. I can name several who have been strongly rumoured to be in the running for an honour only to find themselves quietly dropped because something that deemed them unsuitable surfaced in the intervening period.’
‘ Well, I didn’t know anything about it, but then I’ve only known him two minutes,’ commented Lucy.
‘ It strikes me there may be an awful lot you don’t know about Mr Delacroix, perhaps it’s time you and I had a chat, Lucy. How about a drink after work one evening next week?’
Without moving her head Lucy opened her eyes and sto le a glance at Marcus’s profile. Seemingly deep in thought, he didn’t notice and she watched him for a while trying to process her own thoughts.
She wasn’t particularly surprised he had said nothing to her about the possible knighthood. He seemed to work on a need to know basis and the flow of information between them was as yet rather one-sided. She wondered if she should say anything to him about it but something told her that wasn’t a good idea.
She thought about the possibility of becoming Lady Delacroix and had to suppress a gurgle of laughter. She said the name over and over in her head and decided, as ridiculous as it was, she rather liked the sound of it. Closing her eyes again she realised just how little she knew about this man. Perhaps over the next two days that would change.
She had the feeling that nothing Catherine was going to tell her would be flattering; she had mentioned before that he had a reputation for being ruthless. But surely all really successful businessmen had to be ruthless, it came with the territory didn’t it, the killer instinct? He was on close terms with such important people and the Prime Minister thought he deserved a knighthood. He couldn’t be doing anything too dreadful surely.
When the shopping had been dealt with Marcus showed her around the downstairs of the house with its flagstone floors, ornate ceilings and a huge fireplace in every room, hence all the chimneys. The furniture was old but good, put together to create a relaxed and comfortable home far less formal than the London house. Picking up their bags, they made their way up the wide oak staircase with its elaborately carved newel post. The upstairs floors were wooden, waxed to a soft sheen, and a beautiful velvet upholstered chaise longue stood on the large landing.
Marcus led the way along a wide passage and opening a door he told her, ‘This room has lovely views out across the gardens. I hope you’ll be comfortable.’
Lucy followed him into the large sunny bedroom with its three windows, two to the back and one to the side which as he said afforded full views of Grayling’s impressive grounds. These windows were draped with delicate floral curtains, the Victorian brass bed was covered by a crisp white cotton counterpane edged with lace and the other furniture was honey coloured antique pine. It was a lovely room and Lucy told Marcus so. Opening a door in the corner of the room he said, ‘This is the bathroom.’
‘ Wow!’
A huge claw footed bathtub dominated the room, set almost centrally it lined up with the window.
‘Helena always said this bath has the best view in the house. She liked to lie there with a glass of wine, just looking at it.’
‘ I’m not surprised,’ Lucy told him.
‘ Well, I’ll leave you to unpack. My room’s at the front, the other doors are to the guest rooms. Come down when you’re ready and we’ll have some lunch.’
Lucy unzipped her overnight bag and thought about what Marcus had said, all of which suggested that she had been given his late wife’s room rather than a guest room and that the Delacroixs had slept separately. But then lots of couples did,
‘ So is it official then?’ Lucy asked, still trying to take it in.
‘ No, that’s a long way off. It’s usual for names to be leaked to test the water and to see if anything nasty crawls out of the woodwork. I can name several who have been strongly rumoured to be in the running for an honour only to find themselves quietly dropped because something that deemed them unsuitable surfaced in the intervening period.’
‘ Well, I didn’t know anything about it, but then I’ve only known him two minutes,’ commented Lucy.
‘ It strikes me there may be an awful lot you don’t know about Mr Delacroix, perhaps it’s time you and I had a chat, Lucy. How about a drink after work one evening next week?’
Without moving her head Lucy opened her eyes and sto le a glance at Marcus’s profile. Seemingly deep in thought, he didn’t notice and she watched him for a while trying to process her own thoughts.
She wasn’t particularly surprised he had said nothing to her about the possible knighthood. He seemed to work on a need to know basis and the flow of information between them was as yet rather one-sided. She wondered if she should say anything to him about it but something told her that wasn’t a good idea.
She thought about the possibility of becoming Lady Delacroix and had to suppress a gurgle of laughter. She said the name over and over in her head and decided, as ridiculous as it was, she rather liked the sound of it. Closing her eyes again she realised just how little she knew about this man. Perhaps over the next two days that would change.
She had the feeling that nothing Catherine was going to tell her would be flattering; she had mentioned before that he had a reputation for being ruthless. But surely all really successful businessmen had to be ruthless, it came with the territory didn’t it, the killer instinct? He was on close terms with such important people and the Prime Minister thought he deserved a knighthood. He couldn’t be doing anything too dreadful surely.
When the shopping had been dealt with Marcus showed her around the downstairs of the house with its flagstone floors, ornate ceilings and a huge fireplace in every room, hence all the chimneys. The furniture was old but good, put together to create a relaxed and comfortable home far less formal than the London house. Picking up their bags, they made their way up the wide oak staircase with its elaborately carved newel post. The upstairs floors were wooden, waxed to a soft sheen, and a beautiful velvet upholstered chaise longue stood on the large landing.
Marcus led the way along a wide passage and opening a door he told her, ‘This room has lovely views out across the gardens. I hope you’ll be comfortable.’
Lucy followed him into the large sunny bedroom with its three windows, two to the back and one to the side which as he said afforded full views of Grayling’s impressive grounds. These windows were draped with delicate floral curtains, the Victorian brass bed was covered by a crisp white cotton counterpane edged with lace and the other furniture was honey coloured antique pine. It was a lovely room and Lucy told Marcus so. Opening a door in the corner of the room he said, ‘This is the bathroom.’
‘ Wow!’
A huge claw footed bathtub dominated the room, set almost centrally it lined up with the window.
‘Helena always said this bath has the best view in the house. She liked to lie there with a glass of wine, just looking at it.’
‘ I’m not surprised,’ Lucy told him.
‘ Well, I’ll leave you to unpack. My room’s at the front, the other doors are to the guest rooms. Come down when you’re ready and we’ll have some lunch.’
Lucy unzipped her overnight bag and thought about what Marcus had said, all of which suggested that she had been given his late wife’s room rather than a guest room and that the Delacroixs had slept separately. But then lots of couples did,
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