Promised

‘I didn’t want to have dinner with him.’

‘Why not? He seemed like such a gentleman.’

I resist snorting my disgust. She wouldn’t think that if she knew the ins and outs. ‘He was with another woman.’

‘She’s a business associate!’ she gushes, almost excited to clear up the misunderstanding. ‘Nice woman.’

I cannot believe she bought that. She’s too cute. Business associates don’t shop for silk ties together. ‘Can we leave it there?’ I drop my bag and skulk past her, making my way to the kitchen, getting a waft of something delicious as I enter. ‘What are you cooking?’ I ask, finding George at the table. ‘Hi, George.’ I sit next to him.

‘Don’t turn your mobile telephone off, Livy,’ he scolds quietly. ‘I’ve endured hours of Josephine repeatedly dialling and cursing in between cooking supper.’

‘What is it?’ I ask again.

‘Beef Wellington,’ Nan chirps up as she follows behind me. ‘With dauphinoise potatoes and steamed baby carrots.’

I throw a confused look at George, but he just shrugs and picks up his paper. ‘Beef Wellington?’ I ask.

‘That’s right.’ She doesn’t give my questioning tone the attention it deserves. What happened to stew and dumplings or a chicken roast? ‘Thought I’d try something new. I hope you’re hungry.’

‘A little,’ I admit. ‘Is that wine?’ I ask, clocking two bottles of red and two bottles of white on the worktop.

‘Oh!’ She flies across the kitchen and grabs the white bottles, shoving them quickly in the fridge before opening the red. ‘These need to breathe.’

Shifting in my chair, I chance a glance at George, hoping to get something from him, but he’s undoubtedly doing what he’s been told by sitting still and shutting up. He knows that I’m looking at him. I can tell because his eyes are running too quickly across the text of the paper for him to truly be reading it. I knock his knee with mine, but I’m flat-out ignored, Nan’s male companion choosing to shift his legs to avoid another purposeful nudge.

‘Nan—’ The doorbell interrupts me, my head swinging towards the hallway.

‘Oh, that’ll be Gregory.’ She opens the oven and sticks a long metal stick in the middle of a huge chunk of pastry. ‘Will you answer it, please, Livy?’

‘You invited Gregory?’ I ask, pushing my chair away from the table.

‘Yes! Look at all of this food.’ She removes the rod from the meat and purses her lips as she checks the temperature on the dial. ‘Nearly done,’ she declares.

I leave Nan and George and jog down the hallway to let Gregory in, hoping Nan hasn’t been gossiping with him again. ‘Am I missing a special occasion?’ I ask as I throw the front door open.

My smile falls away immediately.

Chapter 11

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ That damn irritation flares dangerously.

‘Your grandmother invited me.’ Miller’s arms are filled with flowers and a Harrods bag. ‘Are you going to invite me in?’

‘No, I’m not.’ I step outside and pull the door shut so Nan can’t hear our conversation. ‘What are you doing?’

He’s completely unruffled by my ruffled state. ‘Being polite and accepting a dinner invitation.’ There’s no humour in his tone. ‘I have manners.’

‘No.’ I step closer, my shock and exasperation crossing the line into anger. My damn conniving grandmother. ‘You have a nerve, that’s what you have. This has to stop. I don’t want you for twenty-four hours.’

‘You want longer?’

I recoil. ‘No!’ How much longer?

‘Oh . . .’ He looks unsure of himself and it’s the first time I’ve seen this in him. It straightens my back and makes my eyes narrow questioningly.

‘Do you?’ I whisper the question on a skip of my heartbeat, my mind going into overdrive.

His uncertainty flashes to frustration in a nanosecond, making me wonder if it’s directed at me or whether he’s frustrated with himself. I’m hoping it’s the latter. ‘We agreed no personal.’

‘No, you declared that part of the deal.’

His eyes fly up, shocked. ‘I know.’

‘And does it still stand?’ I ask, trying so hard to appear confident and strong, when I’m crumbling on the inside, bracing myself for his answer.

‘It still stands.’ His voice is resolute, but his expression isn’t. That’s not enough for me to build my hopes on, though.

‘Then we’re done here.’ I turn on my Converse and push my defeated body through the door, meeting Nan as I do. ‘It’s a salesman,’ I say, not letting her pass me. My plan is never going to work, I know that. She invited him, and she knew the second the doorbell chimed who it was.

I put up little resistance when I’m barged from her path, letting her open the front door, where Miller is striding slowly away from the house. ‘Miller!’ she calls. ‘Wherever are you going?’

He turns and looks at me, and as much as I’m willing a threatening look to materialise on my face, it’s just not happening. We just stare at each other for the longest time before he gives Nan a small nod. ‘It was really very kind of you, Mrs Taylor, but—’

‘Oh no!’ Nan doesn’t give him the opportunity to make his excuses. She marches down the path, not in the least bit intimidated by his tall, powerful frame, and takes his elbow, leading him into the house. ‘I’ve prepared a blinding supper, and you’ll stay to eat it.’ Miller is pushed into the narrow hallway where, with three people, it’s all very cosy. ‘Livy will take your jacket.’ Nan leaves us and marches back to the kitchen, barking a short instruction at George as she enters.