Free Next Door to Murder by Anthea Fraser Page A

him.’
    â€˜Well, if you’re sure, we’d be glad to give you all the help you need, wouldn’t we, darling?’
    There was something immediately likeable about Felicity, though Rona, remembering the woman she presumed to be her rival, felt she could make more of herself. She wore minimal make-up, and her soft brown hair with its wispy fringe looked as though she’d washed it herself – very different from the chic stylishness of her husband’s London companion. Moreover, though her dress was obviously expensive, it did little for her, being altogether too matronly. Rona longed to take her to one of Magda’s boutiques.
    â€˜When are you hoping to embark on this?’ Julian asked.
    â€˜Whenever’s convenient; my desk is clear at the moment.’
    â€˜Shall we say Tuesday, then? All the papers are at the house, so you’d be working from there. As you’ll appreciate, space at the store is at a premium, with everything being on the one floor.’
    â€˜Julian’s grandfather tried to buy the walkway above,’ Felicity put in, ‘so we could expand upwards, but it caused an uproar. There was a Conservation Society, even then.’
    â€˜What are you all talking about so earnestly at your end of the table?’ Simon demanded laughingly.
    â€˜My next project,’ Rona told him. ‘Willows’ Fine Furniture, Past and Present.’
    â€˜And God bless all who sail in her!’ Max added facetiously.
    â€˜You pulled it off, then,’ he commented, in the car on the way home.
    â€˜Julian brought it up himself. Said he’d wondered when I’d get round to him. Barnie told me he’d had enquiries from local businesses, but he didn’t mention the Willows. At least I’ll be working close to home this time – in fact, actually in their home, though Julian was careful to point out I’ll need to go to Yorkshire, to pay homage to their aristocratic roots.’
    â€˜Who,’ Max remarked drily, ‘probably won’t thank you for reminding them they’re related to trade.’
    Dominic stood at his window, looking down over the town of Marsborough. He’d been damn lucky to find this place, he reflected. Not only was it fully serviced, with a first-class restaurant on the ground floor, but there was also a coffee lounge doubling as an informal club, which residents made use of to meet business colleagues. And to crown it all, Carla had a flat two floors below him, so was always on hand. It could not have been more convenient.
    He glanced at his watch. Another fifteen minutes till the conference call. An important deal was under way, and he was running through the points he intended to make, when a tap on the door broke his train of thought.
    â€˜Not now, Carla,’ he said testily. ‘I need to keep my mind clear.’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ Carla sounded harassed. ‘You have a visitor who insists on speaking to you.’
    He turned angrily. ‘I see no one without an appointment, you know that.’
    â€˜You’ll see me,’ said a voice behind her, and as she perforce moved aside, Lady Miranda Barrington-Selby, known colloquially as Dominic’s heiress, came into the room.
    He felt his heart jerk, surprise and guilt combining to wrong-foot him. ‘Forgive me, Miranda,’ he said gently, ‘but I really can’t talk to you now. I’m awaiting an important call.’
    â€˜I’m sorry if it’s inconvenient, Dominic, but that’s your fault, not mine. If you’d had the courtesy to return my calls, I shouldn’t have had to seek you out.’
    He said quietly, ‘Five minutes, then,’ and nodded dismissal at Carla who, having failed to preserve his privacy, was hovering uncertainly. She went out, closing the door quietly behind her.
    He turned back to Miranda. God, why couldn’t she accept that what had been between them was over? It was an