Free Rogue in Porcelain by Anthea Fraser Page A

to see a man and woman being shown to a table not far from their own.
    â€˜Well, well,’ he said softly.
    Edward turned to look behind him, by which time the couple had seated themselves.
    â€˜Who was it?’
    â€˜Nigel de Salis and his wife.’
    Hester gave an exclamation of annoyance.
    â€˜Who’s Nigel de Salis?’ Becca asked curiously.
    â€˜The man who broke up your uncle Nicholas’s marriage,’ her grandmother answered tightly.
    â€˜But not, apparently, his own,’ Anna remarked.
    â€˜No; she took him back, more fool her. No pride, some women.’
    â€˜Perhaps she still loves him,’ Becca said innocently, and Hester, nonplussed, changed the subject.
    Finlay did not immediately join in. Mention of the breakdown of his cousin’s marriage necessarily reminded him of his own. Its ending had been considerably less dramatic than Nick’s: no passionate accusations, no lovers fleeing their respective marital homes. He and Ginnie had simply, over the years, grown apart, and the fact still hurt him. He’d had no news of her since the divorce, and wondered now if she’d remarried.
    â€˜Finn?’
    Anna was smiling at him, and he saw she understood his momentary withdrawal.
    â€˜Sorry,’ he said, ‘I was miles away.’
    â€˜We were wondering if you’ve chosen your starter?’
    He glanced back at the card in his hand. ‘I’ll go for the whitebait, please,’ he said.
    It was also raining in Tynecastle, and Cynthia’s raincoat was glistening with moisture as she hugged them.
    â€˜Rona! It’s been ages since we saw you! You’re looking great!’ She turned to Max. ‘You too, you old reprobate! The car’s in short-term parking; I’m afraid it’ll mean a dash through the rain.’
    â€˜We won’t melt,’ Max assured her. ‘How’s the old man?’
    â€˜Looking forward to your visit. You’ll see an improvement since you were last here; he’s eating better, according to Mrs Pemberton, though he still has that cough. Paul’s picking him up on his way home from work.’
    They emerged from the airport building, opened their umbrellas, and hurried after Cynthia’s small, round figure. The rain slanted down in the beams from the overhead lights and the ground was treacherous with puddles. The sanctuary of Cynthia’s roomy car was more than welcome.
    â€˜The boys will be in for dinner,’ she told them, as she slowed at the exit to slot money into the machine. ‘Did I tell you Michael’s bought a new car? It’s his pride and joy, and I rather think, Max, he’s hoping to persuade you to do a painting of it.’
    â€˜What kind is it?’ Max asked guardedly.
    â€˜A red MG. He’s taken photographs of it from every angle, for you to take back with you if you agree.’
    â€˜I don’t see why not,’ Max said. ‘It’ll make a change from views of Buckfordshire and pretty debutantes.’
    Cynthia laughed. ‘Don’t tell him I forewarned you.’
    Paul’s car was in the driveway when they arrived at the house, and Roland Allerdyce came into the hall to greet them. Despite Cynthia’s optimistic assessment, Rona was shocked at the change in him. Though still tall and straight-backed, his features stood out prominently from his sunken cheeks and his clothes seemed to hang on him. But his grip was as strong as ever as he pulled her towards him for a fierce hug.
    â€˜Too long since I’ve seen you, my girl,’ he said gruffly, before turning to take Max’s hand.
    Paul also came to welcome them, but his sons had not yet returned from work. ‘Come in and get warm,’ he said. ‘It’s a wild evening out there.’
    Roland resumed his place on the sofa, and tapped the cushion beside him. ‘Sit next to me, Rona,’ he instructed, and, as she did so, enquired, ‘That boy of mine