had actually done…!
Leonie moistened her lips. ‘Rachel,’ she began slowly, ‘I don’t wish to appear rude, but—’ She broke off as the older woman began to laugh huskily. ‘Did I say something amusing?’ She gave a quizzical frown.
‘Not really.’ The actress sobered slightly, giving a reassuring squeeze of Leonie’s arm before moving to press the bell beside the fireplace. ‘I’ll order us some fresh coffee. In the meantime…’ she smiled ‘…you can ask me whether or not I deliberately engineered that situation just now so that you would find yourself in the position—obviously against your better judgement!—of being committed to writing my biography. That was what you were about to ask me, wasn’t it, Leonie?’ She arched teasing brows.
That was exactly what she had been about to ask! But now she knew she didn’t need to bother—it was all too obvious that was exactly what Rachel had done, making Leonie aware that she had better re-evaluate her previous opinion of Rachel.
Oh, she didn’t doubt that the other woman was as warm and friendly as she appeared. There was no doubting her natural beauty, even in her seventies, either. But that guileless expression that Leonie had taken for openness of character wasn’t all that it appeared to be; Rachel was more than capable of practising a deception, or manoeuvring a situation, to suit her own ends. In fact, there was more of a likeness between mother and son than she had previously realised!
Although that realisation didn’t change the outcome of what she had just done. Because there was no way, without giving Luke Richmond the satisfaction of believing she was indeed frightened of him, that she could back out of this commitment.
The fact that Rachel now looked very like her son had a few minutes ago, like the cat who had lapped up all the cream, did nothing to assuage Leonie’s feelings of unease…
’This is a nice surprise, darling,’ her grandfather told her warmly as she joined him in his Devonshire garden a short time later, busy in the greenhouse with the seedlings he had grown ready for late-spring planting. ‘I have all too little female company since your grandmother died last year,’ he added wistfully.
Leonie, despite returning his smile affectionately, felt a little guilty for her own lack of visits during the last few months, aware that it was over five weeks since she had last driven down to see him.
He looked as robust as usual, though, his brushed-back hair a thick iron-grey, his over-six-feet frame still as wiry as ever, the tweed jacket and brown trousers he had on for gardening having previously been what he’d worn during his university lecturing days, a post he had stepped down from over ten years ago to retire to his beloved Devon. Unfortunately, as he had said, her grandmother had died the previous year, leaving him very much on his own…
He frowned vaguely. ‘I hope I have something that I can give you for lunch…’
‘Cheese melted on toast will do me just fine,’ she assured him, tucking her arm into the crook of his as they went out into the garden to sit beneath the apple tree, where Leonie had placed the tray of tea things she had prepared on her way through the house. ‘You really should lock the cottage door,’ she told her grandfather ruefully as he looked at the laden tray. ‘Anyone could just walk in.’
‘I wouldn’t call you just anyone, my darling,’ he teased as he watched her pour the tea. ‘Besides, anyone could get in anyway, if they were determined enough, Leonie, locked door or no,’ he defended lightly as she shot him a reproving look.
He was right, of course. But that didn’t mean she didn’t worry about him down here in Devon all on his own. Although she knew he wouldn’t thank her for fussing.
A noted historian in his own right, he had continued to lecture until he was well into his sixties, had always been a voice of authority that was listened to, by his students and colleagues alike.
Luke Richmond had asked her what she was trying to prove by becoming a historian like her grandfather. She wasn’t trying to prove anything; she just respected and loved her grandfather very much. The fact that she had also known her choice of career would please him immensely had come into it, of course, but it wasn’t the whole story…
’So, to what do I owe the honour of this visit?’ he prompted once they both had a cup of tea. “’Just passing” won’t pass muster, I’m afraid,’ he added dryly.
Obviously not, but by driving to Rachel Richmond’s house in Hampshire earlier this morning she had already been almost halfway here; it had seemed only logical to make the rest of the drive to her grandfather’s home in Devon. Besides, for the past week she had wanted to ask him about something…
‘It’s so relaxing here.’ She sighed happily, resting back in her garden chair, birds singing in the trees, the wild flowers already in abundance in the well-cared-for cottage garden that was her grandfather’s pride and joy.
‘It is.’ He too looked around them with satisfaction. ‘How’s your young man?’ he prompted interestedly.
Leonie smiled at the description; at thirty-two Jeremy could hardly be called that. Although, probably to her grandfather, in his eightieth year, that did seem young!
‘Fine,’ she answered dismissively. ‘He’s away on some computer course or other this weekend,’ she added helpfully.
‘Ah. At a bit of a loose end, are you?’ Her grandfather nodded understandingly, blue eyes twinkling teasingly beneath bushy iron-grey brows.
‘Grandfather!’ Leonie chided laughingly. ‘You make it sound as if I only came to see you because I have nothing better to do this weekend!’
‘That’s how it should be with old fogies like me,’ he assured her seriously. ‘Enjoy your life, Leonie, with people your own age. That’s the way it should be. Despite what your mother may tell you to the contrary,’ he added dryly.
They shared a conspiratorial smile; as an only child, Leonie was expected, by her mother at least, to telephone her parents at least once a week, and to visit them in Cornwall once a month. Thank heavens her grandfather was just pleased to see her, no matter how long it had been since her last visit.
‘Actually, I was in Hampshire earlier this morning,’ she began slowly, still not quite sure how to broach this subject when her grandfather had never mentioned it himself. ‘I believe I met an old acquaintance of yours there…? At least, he seemed convinced the two of you had met.’
‘Really?’ her grandfather prompted interestedly before taking a sip of his tea.
‘Yes. You didn’t tell me your social life now involved screenwriters,’ she added lightly, grey eyes glowing teasingly.
He gave a perplexed frown. ‘I’m not sure…’
‘Luke Richmond,’ Leonie told him questioningly; she had far from forgotten the fact that the other man had claimed to have spoken to her grandfather concerning his biography.
Her grandfather looked blank for a moment, and then his brow cleared. ‘Ah—Luke Richmond!’ he repeated knowingly. ‘A rather dour young man as I recall…’ He nodded. ‘How on earth did you come to meet him, darling? Or has your own social life now moved into the world of the movies?’ he added teasingly.
‘Oh, no, you don’t, Grandfather!’ Leonie dismissed laughingly—although she couldn’t say she disagreed with his summing up of Luke Richmond’s nature! ‘I know exactly what you’re doing,’ she assured him wryly, ‘and I’m not going to be distracted. Why didn’t you tell any of us that you had been approached with the suggestion of writing the screenplay of your life?’
He grimaced. ‘Can you imagine your mother’s reaction to that?’ he scorned.
Leonie had no illusions about her mother, knew she was a complete snob—and she had not been at all happy the previous year when Leonie’s book on her father-in-law had come into print.
‘I can,’ she acknowledged dryly. ‘But even so…