Free Dead on Cue by Deryn Lake Page A

Sir Rufus looked, his hair as red as the autumn trees, his skin fresh and clear.
    â€˜Well, now that you are here can I show you over the castle?’
    â€˜It would indeed be a great pleasure,’ she answered in her careful Russian way.
    â€˜We’ll start at the oldest part and then you can meet my daughters.’
    â€˜That will be nice. How long have you been looking after them?’
    â€˜Five years now. The smallest one, Perdita, was just three when her mother left me.’
    â€˜Why?’ asked Ekaterina, never wasting words on niceties.
    â€˜She fell for a gamekeeper and moved into his cottage.’
    â€˜Like Lady Chatterley?’
    â€˜Just like,’ Rufus answered, and they both laughed, the sound echoing off the old stones that surrounded them.
    Up on the battlements his four children awaited them, going very quiet and serious as Ekaterina approached.
    â€˜This is Perdita,’ Rufus announced, and the smallest came forward and said, ‘Hello,’ rather shyly.
    â€˜And this one is Ondine. And next to her comes Iolanthe. And my eldest girl is Araminta.’
    â€˜What beautiful names,’ said Ekaterina. ‘They are quite lovely – as, indeed, are their owners.’
    And it was true. Only one – Iolanthe – had inherited Rufus’s red hair and striking autumn looks but the rest were also truly beautiful in their own individual ways. Araminta, who presumably took after the bolting Lady Beaudegrave, had hair a-glistening, gleaming black, and was blessed with a pair of wide, jade-coloured eyes. The other two girls were both blondes but where one was tall and languid, the other was a busy little parcel, petite and doll-like. This one, Perdita, shook Ekaterina’s hand and said ‘Welcome to the castle.’ Ekaterina, who had never felt in the least maternal, felt a strange stirring sensation in the region of her heart.
    An hour later and they had seen over the entire castle, ending up in the Victorian part. As they had passed through the Tudor courtyard Ekaterina had noted the amazing lighting rig and sound equipment and could not help but remark to Rufus, ‘All this is for Gerry’s production, I take it?’
    â€˜You are absolutely right. I think it is going to be tremendous.’
    Thinking of her husband’s amazing ego and going cold at the idea, Ekaterina said, ‘I hope you are correct.’
    Rufus had taken her hands in his and turned to face her. ‘I watched the last rehearsal and I can assure you that there was absolutely no hanky-panky.’
    â€˜â€™Anky-panky,’ she repeated in her delightful Russian accent. ‘I do not know this expression. What does it mean?’
    â€˜Dubious goings-on,’ replied Rufus, and his four girls tittered in harmony.
    It was inevitable that he should invite her to join him for lunch, which they ate at a very ancient pub called The Brown Trout. The girls were all very well behaved but Ekaterina was well aware of the discerning gaze of Araminta, the eldest. Those jade-green eyes barely left her and she wondered if she was making a good impression. Once Ekaterina glanced up and caught Rufus looking at her with his bright amber gaze and there could be no doubt that she was creating an impact on him. Once again she had that strange feeling that somewhere inside her an icicle was melting.
    By the time she returned home she was feeling guilty but happy and she walked into the moated manor house humming a little tune.
    â€˜Gerry,’ she called, ‘where are you?’
    There was no reply but from his study she could hear the television blaring loudly. Putting her head round the door she saw him, trainers on an antique table, still wearing his smelly hip-hop clothes and fast asleep with his mouth open. Giving a deep sigh, Ekaterina withdrew to the drawing room to read
Vogue
.
    After evensong Nick would gladly have slumped in front of the television but had promised Kasper