Free Rogue in Porcelain by Anthea Fraser

the phone. Belatedly, she hoped that she and her proposed lodger would like each other.
    The Deer Park Hotel and Country Club was a ten-minute drive from the outskirts of Nettleton, and the car park looked ominously full as Finlay drove into it. Eventually he found a space at the far end, and, since it was raining, was fairly wet by the time he reached the foyer. His family, he saw, was awaiting him in the bar, and, smoothing down his damp hair, he went to join them.
    â€˜Happy birthday, Harry,’ he said, holding out his hand, which the boy took.
    â€˜Cheers,’ Harry replied, unaware of his grandmother’s wince. ‘And thanks a lot for the cheque, Uncle. It’s very welcome.’
    â€˜My pleasure.’ Finn bent to kiss first his mother, then Anna and Becca.
    â€˜What are you drinking?’ Edward asked him. ‘We’re all on champagne cocktails, if that appeals?’
    â€˜All except us,’ corrected Becca, eying her soft drink with resignation.
    Finn flashed her a sympathetic smile. ‘Sounds wonderful, thanks.’ He sat down next to his mother. ‘You’re looking very glamorous, Mama.’
    â€˜Thank you, my dear.’
    He spoke no more than the truth. Before her marriage, Hester Curzon had been an opera singer, and the lessons she’d learned in make-up and deportment had stood her in good stead for the rest of her life. Her pale gold hair was only faintly touched with silver, and her skin, nurtured over the years and meticulously protected from the sun, had remarkably few lines for a woman of her age. In the two years of her widowhood, Finn reflected with pride, there had been no shortage of escorts.
    Edward returned with his drink, and they all toasted Harry, who flushed, looked away, and muttered something inaudible in acknowledgment.
    â€˜Too bad Jackie couldn’t make it,’ Edward commented. ‘Bill has a weekend conference in Edinburgh, and she’s gone up with him. She sent her best, Finn.’
    Finlay turned to Hester. ‘She never showed any interest in joining the firm, did she, Mother?’
    Hester looked at him in surprise. ‘Jacqueline? Not that I remember. What put that thought in your head?’
    Edward laughed. ‘Not “what”, but “who”. It was our chronicler, wasn’t it, Finn?’
    â€˜Your what ? Oh – that girl you mentioned, who’s writing the article. Has she met Jacqueline?’
    â€˜Not yet,’ Finlay replied, ‘but she will; she wants to see everyone. It’s the family that interests her.’
    Hester raised her eyebrows. ‘Even if we’re not in the firm?’
    â€˜Yes; that was the point of my question. She was surprised no female members of the family had joined. It hadn’t struck me before, but it does seem a bit odd, particularly these days.’
    â€˜We’ve all done our own thing,’ Hester said complacently.
    â€˜That’s what I told her.’
    â€˜Didn’t you say, Edward, that her name’s Parish? She’s not the biographer, by any chance?’
    Edward looked surprised. ‘I’ve no idea, but I shouldn’t think so. She writes for Chiltern Life .’
    â€˜It’s not mutually exclusive,’ Hester pointed out. ‘If she interviews me, I shall make a point of asking her.’
    A waiter appeared at Edward’s elbow to inform him their table was ready. They finished their drinks and followed him through to the restaurant, where they were shown to a window table. In daylight, the windows that made up this entire wall overlooked the golf course. Now, on a wet March evening, heavy curtains closed off the view.
    The congestion in the car park was explained; every table was either occupied or reserved, and the room was filled with the hum of voices. Finlay was studying the menu when Anna suddenly touched his sleeve.
    â€˜Look who’s just come in!’ she said in a low voice.
    He glanced up