today. We should strike while the iron’s hot—before I have the chance to think about it too much and talk myself out of it.’
‘Shouldn’t you ring your dad first and check that he’ll be home?’
An irresistibly boyish grin split his lips wide. ‘I probably should, but I won’t. I’d rather just turn up and surprise him. Even if he’s out, his housekeeper will let us in. He’ll come back sooner or later. By the way—we ought to pack an overnight bag. It’s too late to travel there and back today.’
Slowly, Kit nodded. ‘Well, if you think that’s all right, then of course we can go today. But first of all I’d like to ice that knee for you, and then you should rest for a while. We can go after that.’
‘I can rest in the car. After all, I don’t have to worry about driving.’
Zipping up his jacket, Hal was surprised at how enthused he suddenly felt about the idea of making amends with his father. It would also be good to see his childhood home again, despite his fractured upbringing. Falteringham House, the Treverne estate, was breathlessly stunning, and he’d honestly missed it. Any man would be proud to have connections with such beauty, grandeur and history. But most of all Hal realised he was looking forward to introducing it to Kit.
‘Come on, Nurse Blessington,’ he urged with a smile. ‘Let’s get going, shall we?’
* * *
Kit had honed a helpful ability to get packing down to a fine art. She’d had to when she was so often moving from place to place for work. But when she stepped out of her bedroom to find Hal patiently leaning against the wall on his crutches, a classy leather tote down by his feet, she couldn’t help smiling.
‘That was quick. I see you’re all packed and ready. I was just about to come and find you to help.’
‘No need. I’m nothing if not prepared,’ he quipped, an irresistible twinkle in his chameleon hazel eyes. ‘I often have to jet off somewhere at the drop of a hat, so it pays to at least have one well-equipped bag ready. I see you’ve changed your hairstyle... I have to say I approve. The schoolgirl plaits were definitely cute, but I much prefer it when you look like one of Millais’s models.’
After swapping her jeans and shirt for a smart pair of black trousers and a dove-grey Arran sweater Kit had quickly dismantled her plaits and shaken her hair loose. Once again the fiery copper waves tumbled freely over her shoulders, and they helped give her a sense of confidence she found herself suddenly in dire need of. If her one claim to beauty couldn’t help her to that end, then what could?
The prospect of meeting Hal’s upper-crust father, as well as visiting his ancestral family home, was seriously daunting. Although she was all but certain that it would—at last—dash any pointless hope she might be secretly nurturing that she could have a future with him. Best she just keep on reminding herself that if she continued to work hard then one day soon she would have the precious home of her own that she longed for. And she wouldn’t have to depend on any man—even if she was head over heels in love with him—to provide it for her.
* * *
It was close to dusk by the time they reached the end of a long tree-lined drive and pulled up outside the esteemed manor house where Hal had grown up. Surrounded by lush parkland, the building was frighteningly imposing, Kit saw, even in the gloomy half-light of the day. Its Elizabethan windows and stone turrets made it look almost ethereal. And, apart from the late-afternoon birdsong, the silence that cloaked the area was eerily tangible. When she switched off the car’s ignition and turned round to observe her passenger in the seat that she’d extended for him, so he could stretch out his injured leg, she saw immediately that his handsome face looked perturbed.
‘What’s up?’ she asked. ‘I’m sorry if it was a little bumpy coming down the drive. You’re not in pain, I hope?’
‘Unless you have the power to go back to Elizabethan times and predict that we’ll be driving round in engine-driven motor cars in five hundred years’ time, so we had better level the road, there’s not much you can do about the bumpy drive, I’m afraid. The surface has always been uneven and slightly bowed. And, in answer to your second question, I’m not in pain. But thanks for asking.’
Clamping down on her automatic response—It’s my job to ask how you’re feeling—Kit somehow shaped her lips into a smile. ‘Anyway, it looks like an amazing house. It must have been wonderful, growing up with so much space around you. The places me and my mum lived in were always so cramped and small.’
Hal’s gaze narrowed interestedly. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you...where does your mother live now? Is she on her own or does she have a partner?’
It had never been easy to talk about her mum at the best of times, and it wasn’t any easier now. Inevitably, even though she had forged a life of her own and didn’t regret it, Kit couldn’t help sometimes feeling guilty that she didn’t make herself as available to her as she’d used to. But the last time they’d spoken on the phone, Elizabeth Blessington had told her that she’d tentatively been dating the widower who lived next door to the building where her little flat was housed. It was early days yet, she’d stated, her tone sounding uncharacteristically cautious, but she had high hopes that it might blossom into something special.
Tucking some hair behind her ear, Kit stopped frowning and lifted her gaze back to Hal’s.
‘She lives in London and, yes, she lives alone. But she’s recently started dating a widower who lives nearby, so I’m sure she has company from time to time. Anyway, shouldn’t we go and find out if your dad is in? I can wheel you in your chair, or would you prefer to use your walking aids?’
‘I’ll use the crutches. I’d prefer to confront my dad when I’m standing upright.’ His lips thinned ruefully.
‘“Confront”?’
‘Wrong word. Come on, let’s go in.’
As they stood outside the imposing gabled front door Kit stole a glance at Hal to try and ascertain how he was feeling. His carved handsome face never failed to make her heart race, and it raced even more now because she’d intuited that he had mixed feelings about coming home to see his father again. She prayed the meeting would go well. The last thing he needed was to feel it hadn’t been a success.
‘If I didn’t have to hold onto these damned crutches I’d hold your hand,’ he said gruffly, a riveting dimple appearing at the side of his mouth.
Her insides cartwheeled pleasurably. ‘I’m here for you, Hal. You don’t have to worry.’ Gently, Kit touched her hand to the back of his chocolate-brown jacket.
At that very same moment the door opened. A distinguished-looking man who looked to be in his sixties appeared. He had liberally greying dark hair that must once have been as strong and lustrous as the hair of the man standing beside her, and was dressed in casual country tweeds with a waxed jacket. Possessed of the same compelling hazel-eyed gaze as the younger man, he stared at Hal as though being confronted by a ghost.
Kit dropped her hand.
‘Hello, Dad. Thought I’d surprise you.’ His son greeted him diffidently.
‘Why in God’s name didn’t you ring to let me know you were coming?’ the other man responded.
He had the kind of resonant, booming voice usually attributed to distinguished actors who performed Shakespeare, and Kit didn’t mind admitting that it startled her.
‘I’ll turn round and go back to London if it’s inconvenient,’ Hal countered immediately, unable to keep the hurt from his tone.
‘Of course it’s not inconvenient. If it’s a surprise you hoped for then you’ve succeeded. I didn’t mean that it was an unwelcome one. Come in, come in. It’s clear you can’t stand there for long on those crutches. It can hardly be good for you.’
‘I’ll help you,’ Kit said quickly, her hand once again going to Hal’s broad