The Mistress of His Manor. CATHERINE GEORGE
until then?’
‘For almost a year.’ She smiled at him wryly, her eyes bright in the flickering candlelight. ‘I’d been away at school since I was eight, and went straight from there to Oxford. No gap year for me. So, much as I love my parents, it was quite an adjustment to live permanently at home in Mill House.’ Hey, watch it, she warned herself, and collected the plates to change the subject. The man was so easy to talk to she’d be telling him all her secrets if she wasn’t careful. Not her usual policy with someone she knew so little. Or even with people she knew well. She smiled brightly. ‘I didn’t have time to make a pudding, but I can give you cheese with home-made biscuits—another of Molly’s recipes.’
March got up, curious about the shutter she’d suddenly pulled down between them. Ignoring her protests, he picked up the heavy platter to follow her into the kitchen.
He was obviously someone used to doing things for himself, noted Jo, and it was making her more and more curious about him. ‘Just leave it on the counter,’ she told him. ‘I don’t put this in the dishwasher.’
‘I’m good at washing up. Let’s do it now.’
She shook her head. ‘If there’s a next time, you can do it then.’
‘Next time,’ he said, moving closer, ‘I’ll take you out to dinner. But,’ he added deliberately, ‘I’ll insist on washing up the time after that. Shall I take the cheese in?’
‘Thank you. I’ll make some coffee.’ Glad to be alone for a moment, Jo frowned while the coffee-maker did its thing. She liked this relaxed, self-assured man very much, but the way he took so much for granted was a bit unnerving. She smiled wryly. On the other hand it was only human to feel gratified when a man of March’s calibre made it so plain he was interested in her.
‘I couldn’t resist trying your biscuits,’ he confessed when she rejoined him. ‘You’re a very talented cook, Joanna. Have you ever thought of it as a career?’
She pulled a face. ‘Lord, no. When I came back here after—after Oxford, I worked for Molly that summer, then did weekends and holiday periods for her when I started the new course. So I know what fiendishly hard work it is. I enjoy a little social entertaining now and then, but that’s as far as it goes.’
‘Who do you entertain?’
‘Josh and Leo Carey mostly—twin brothers I’ve known for years. And I don’t exactly entertain them—just feed them whenever they’ve got an hour off. Then there’s Isobel, the artist whose work you liked. We met at a party when we were thirteen, and we’ve been firm friends ever since. She lives in an attic flat above the art gallery she manages in town.’
March looked at her steadily. ‘But no boyfriend for you, Joanna?’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘If there were you wouldn’t be here tonight.’
‘Point taken. But you’re a pleasure to look at, gainfully employed, you own a jewel of a house—and you cook like an angel.’ He spread his hands. ‘Why hasn’t some man snapped you up long since?’
Joanna kept her eyes on the coffee she was pouring. ‘Because I don’t want to be snapped up.’
‘Is that written in stone?’ He took the cup she handed him. ‘Because be warned, Joanna. I intend to know you better. Much better.’
‘Are you suggesting we become lovers?’ she said bluntly.
March drained his cup and set it down with a click. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘I had to ask.’
‘Well, now you have. And, since we’re calling a spade a spade here, I won’t pretend the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.’ His eyes speared hers. ‘But that’s not my reason for being here tonight. I came to enjoy your company, so relax. I don’t have any shortcuts to paradise in mind right now. These twins you mentioned,’ he added. ‘Since they eat here regularly, I take it neither of them aspires to a closer relationship with you?’
Joanna shook her head, kicking herself for bringing the subject up. ‘They’re like brothers. I’m very fond of them, but they irritate me sometimes, too.’
‘Because they’re men?’
‘Right.’ She smiled crookedly. ‘The only man I know who never irritates me is my grandfather.’
‘Not your father?’
‘Jack’s too dictatorial not to irritate me sometimes, but I love him just the same.’
‘Fortunate man.’ March raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘So, Joanna, where do we stand, you and I?’
She thought it over. ‘I’d like us to be friends,’ she said cautiously.
‘Then we will be. Your house is a surprise,’ he added, stretching out his long legs.
‘In what way?’
‘Because you look like modern woman personified I expected contemporary furnishings and abstract art.’
Jo chuckled. ‘Anachronism in a nineteenth century house, March. Besides,’ she added, ‘this is how the house was when it was made over to me. I helped Kate choose the paint colours and some of the furnishings eleven years ago. When I was thirteen,’ she said demurely, ‘in case you’re wondering. But the chairs and some of the other pieces in the house belonged to the aunt who left it to Kate. How about you?’ she added. ‘Is your place all minimalist and leather?’
‘God, no—anything but!’ March’s eyes fastened on hers. ‘So. Now it’s established that my intentions are honourable, when can I see you again?’
‘Next week?’
March jumped up and pulled her to her feet and into his arms. ‘This weekend,’ he said firmly, and planted a kiss on her lips. He raised his head to look into her eyes, then kissed her again. ‘Saturday. Make a reservation for two at your friend Molly’s.’
Jo nodded rather than trust her voice.
He smiled triumphantly. ‘Good. I’ll ring you to find out the details. And now I’d better leave—before you change your mind.’
‘I won’t. How about some more coffee before you go?’ she suggested, surprised by how much she wanted him to stay a while.
‘Wonderful idea,’ he said, as he opened the door for her, giving thanks that he hadn’t frightened her off by kissing her. It had been a risk worth taking.
To Jo’s relief March did not follow her to the kitchen, which gave her time to recover from the kisses which, though brief, she could still feel like a brand on her mouth. He turned with a smile as she returned to the parlour with two mugs of coffee.
‘Your taste in literature is unexpected, Joanna.’
‘Ah, but I keep the cookbooks in the kitchen, and my romances and Georgette Heyers lurk upstairs in my little study! I enjoy a happy ending as much as any other female.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it.’ He took one of the mugs, impressed to find his coffee was black with a touch of sugar. ‘Perfect. You’re a very efficient hostess.’
‘Molly says the details are important, so I try to remember the various tastes of my guests. Not,’ Jo added wryly, ‘that it matters with the Carey twins. They eat whatever I put in front of them.’
March returned to the sofa. ‘You’ve known them a long time?’
‘Ten years or so. I met them at a very sad time in my young life, and they were a huge help.’
‘What happened?’
She looked at him for a moment. ‘Like your etchings, that’s best left until I know you better.’
‘Which,’ he informed her very deliberately, ‘you will do. And sooner rather than later—Miss Sutton.’