Unconsciously, we listened to his footsteps on the polished wooden floor of the hallway, could imagine the blast of cold air washing towards us as he opened the front door, heard the murmur of voices. Only Ella seemed unconcerned-both by the interruption and the turn the conversation had taken before it. She was totally absorbed with making a sand castle of sorts out of her second helping of mashed potato and trying to create a moat for the gravy round the outside of it.
The voices continued by the front door. Lucas and another man’s, deeper and somewhat colder for it. I couldn’t make out the words but thought I detected a note of strain in Lucas’s. His tone went sharp, then stopped abruptly, like it had snapped off.
I glanced at Rosalind and found her apparently placid expression belied by the fact that she was gripping her fork so tightly her knuckles had turned white. I pushed my chair back slightly from the table and found myself automatically measuring the distance between us and the nearest doorway to the outside, which was behind where Ella and Simone were sitting. A pair of double doors led out onto part of the external decking that seemed to surround the house on three sides, with steps down into the woods.
There was another door leading to a screened porch by the fireplace in the great room, which was behind me and over to my left. I hadn’t initially liked the number of different access points to the house, but now I was glad of the options they provided.
Lucas came back into view at the end of the hallway with another man beside him. There was a study off to the right, and as they passed it Lucas tried to shepherd the visitor into it, saying firmly “Come into the den and we can talk,” but the man kept walking towards us, as though Lucas hadn’t spoken, almost brushing straight past Lucas’s outstretched arm. As they reached the dining area, Rosalind pushed back her chair and stood, defensive, allowing the man to kiss her pale cheek. An act of submission rather than affection.
The man was of a similar age to Lucas himself, perhaps a little older-into his early sixties-but this was clearly no pensioner. He had iron gray hair, cut short enough to see his scalp through it, and there was an altogether harder edge to him.
“Rosalind, my dear,” he said smoothly as he advanced. He had a craggy face with a strong nose and a full-lipped mouth, and his eyes were pale, a faded green or gray. “A pleasure, as always.” His eyes skimmed over the three of us as he spoke, and he made a convincingly rueful face. “My timing is impeccable, I see.”
“You know you’re always welcome, Felix. Why don’t you join us?” Rosalind said, contriving to keep her voice pleasant, even though her face was frigid.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, but making no moves to leave. His gaze swung to Lucas. “I saw your car was out front, but I didn’t realize you had people visiting.”
“Yes,” Lucas said bluntly
There was a long pause. The man, Felix, raised his eyebrows slightly and craned his neck forwards, as if straining to hear. Eventually, he asked softly, “So, aren’t you going to introduce me to these lovely ladies?”
Lucas flushed as his lack of manners was rammed down his throat. I saw his eyes flick to Simone and realized she was the one whose good opinion he wanted to maintain.
“Of course,” he said. “This is, er, my daughter, Simone, and her friend Charlie Fox.”
The stranger’s eyebrows, if anything, climbed a little higher at this news. He directed a piercing stare first in Simone’s direction, then in mine. And finally he looked at Ella, who was gazing at him without apparent concern and chewing artlessly with her mouth open. “Well, well,” he murmured. “Is it really?”
“And this is Felix Vaughan,” Lucas said, with obvious reluctance. “A business colleague of mine.”
“Oh, but surely we know each other better than that, Lucas?” Felix Vaughan said in that soft deep voice of his. “Charmed, my dear,” he added, shaking Simone’s reluctantly proffered hand, although his eyes still seemed fixed on Ella. He held on to Simone for just a little too long. I saw the way Simone’s shoulder flexed as she tried to withdraw and was unable to, and rose from my seat.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Vaughan,” I said, offering him my hand instead.
Vaughan’s eyes glittered as they flickered over me very deliberately, insulting in their calculation. Eventually, he released Simone’s hand in such a way that he managed to make it look like she’d been the one who’d been prolonging the contact. Simone winced and massaged her crushed fingers.
Vaughan liked that. He was smiling as he reached for me, but as our hands came together I jammed mine forwards, so the fleshy vee between my thumb and forefinger was hard up against Vaughan’s before he had the chance to close his fingers around my knuckles. I’d dealt with too many macho squaddies whose first instinct was to prove how weak and feeble female soldiers really were. The bone-crushing handshake was usually their opening salvo, in my experience, and I’d learned a long time ago how to counteract it.
As it was, I saw Vaughan’s eyes widen slightly, then narrow as he tried to apply pressure and found himself outmaneuvered. I offered him a bland smile and said nothing. After a few moments he got bored with the game and let my hand drop.
“So, what’s your story, Miss Fox?” he asked, casually taking Lucas’s chair at the head of the table. Lucas, I noticed, had moved to stand behind his wife and was gripping the back of her chair with both hands.
“I look after Ella,” I said, level, letting Vaughan know that if he was determined to cause trouble for her, he’d have to go through me.
“She’s the nanny, Felix,” Rosalind put in quickly.
“Ah yes, of course — the child,” Vaughan said, turning his attention back to Ella. The way he said it made all the hairs come up on the back of my neck. “So you’re Ella, are you, my dear?”
Ella, completely unafraid, shoveled in another mouthful of mashed potato and said, through it, “Yes, and I’m four.”
“Are you really? And is this your mommy, Ella?” Vaughan asked, inclining his head towards Simone. He moved with a kind of controlled violence, as if his instinct was to lash out and he had to make a conscious effort to keep himself in check at all times.
Ella chewed thoughtfully for a long moment, then nodded vigorously, and I could have sworn I heard the hiss of collected breath escaping from Lucas. Simone edged her chair closer to her daughter’s and glared at Vaughan. I saw her flick a reproachful little glance in Lucas’s direction, as though she couldn’t understand why her father was letting this man torment her. Come to that, I couldn’t understand it, either, but I was prepared to let it ride a little longer, just to find out.
“It’s strange that you’ve never mentioned having children before,” Vaughan said directly to Rosalind, and a faint edge of color crept along her pale cheekbones.
“We made the decision not to have any children,” she said stiffly. “Si-mone is Greg’s daughter from his first marriage. This is the first time I’ve met her.”
“Ah, I see,” Vaughan said carefully, his pale eyes ranging over Rosalind and Lucas. “How fortuitous that she should decide to reacquaint herself with her father now, don’t you think?”
“I live in England,” Simone put in, her voice puzzled but growing more defensive by the minute.
“Really?” The raised eyebrow and the faintly sardonic tone sent a flush across her cheeks. “He’s never mentioned you.”
“We lost touch after my parents divorced,” Simone snapped. “I’ve been looking for him for years.”
“Is that so?” Vaughan said, his voice entirely neutral. “And can you be quite sure that you’ve found him now?”