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The interior of the house was full of original features and beautiful artefacts, but instead of the slightly dissipated, neglected air that the various homes of her childhood had held there was a sense of grace, order and calm that had the unexpected effect of issuing a sense of calm inside Maya too.
The kitchen was large and high-ceilinged, and just as ordered as the rest of the house with its oak furniture, neat rows of blue and white porcelain on the imposing dresser and every surface gleaming with obvious care and attention. The elderly woman wearing a cheerful floral apron, who was clearly responsible for its upkeep, made no bones about displaying her pleasure at welcoming her handsome employer home again.
‘There you are—and about time an’ all, if you don’t mind me saying so! You’ve been away so long I thought that all that fame and adulation in London must have gone to your head…made you forget where you really belong!’ she exclaimed, and without further ado opened her arms to embrace Blaise.
‘Never!’ He grinned, hugging her ample frame hard. And if Maya was slightly shocked at the familiar, clearly fond way the housekeeper addressed him, she was also a little envious. To have someone waiting for you at the end of your travels to welcome you home—as if they’d been counting the days until your return—was something she had never experienced.
As Blaise stepped away from the older woman, she sensed the backs of her eyelids prickle with threatened tears. Get a grip, Maya! What do you think you’re doing? He’s hired you to come and do a job for him, and he’ll start to think you’re some kind of emotional wreck if you carry on like this! The familiar critic in her head that was always there to bring her back down to earth mercilessly laid into her.
‘And you must be Miss Hayward?’ Lottie turned her attention to Maya, warmly gripped her hand and patted it.
‘Please,’ the younger woman replied a little self-consciously, ‘call me Maya.’
‘What a beautiful name! An extremely apt one too, if you don’t mind my saying so, my dear.’
‘Before I show Maya to her room, we’re in need of one of your excellent cups of tea, Lottie,’ Blaise teased, pulling out a couple of carved oak chairs from the kitchen table and indicating with a look that Maya should sit.
‘It’s all ready and waiting for you, my dears. The teapot’s been keeping warm for the past five minutes, and I’ve made some of your favourite ginger biscuits to go with it.’ She bustled around, arranging plates, cups, spoons and a dainty jug of milk, and finally brought the pretty china teapot to the table, removing its clearly home-made knitted cosy to pour the tea. Then she fetched a scalloped cream plate full of the most mouthwatering and delicious-looking home-made ginger biscuits that Maya had ever seen.
‘Help yourselves. I’ll leave you now and go and see if Tom has brought your bags in. If you want to top up the pot, there’s fresh hot water in the kettle.’
Carefully sipping her scalding hot tea, Maya relished the silence that suddenly descended. It gave her a chance to get her bearings and compose herself, even though her heart felt as if it missed a precarious beat every time she glanced across the table at Blaise.
‘Your housekeeper…Lottie…she seems like a lovely lady.’
‘She is. She’s been mothering me since I was little. In fact, sometimes I think she forgets that I’m a grown man!’
As if any woman couldn’t see that Blaise Walker was a man, Maya reflected, her avid glance privately examining the strongly delineated beauty in that indisputably masculine face, the stop-you-in-your-tracks blue eyes, the broad, hard-muscled shoulders beneath his casual but exquisitely tailored sports jacket.
‘When did you lose your parents?’ she asked, half expecting him to ignore the question. Or at the very least divert it.
‘About ten years ago. Funny…it doesn’t seem that long.’ The azure gaze was far away for a moment. ‘They were touring in Vienna with a company of local actors they’d been mentoring and the train they were travelling in derailed. They and the guard were the only fatalities.’
‘I’m so sorry. So they were actors too?’ Maya hadn’t realised that. Was that why Blaise had initially gone into acting and not play-writing?
‘Wait a minute…’ The search engine inside her head whirred to a surprised stop. ‘I vaguely remember hearing the news about that accident on the news…Henry and Letitia Walker were your parents?’
‘Yes, they were.’ Blaise’s wary glance levelled with hers for a moment, then moved uncomfortably away again. ‘Would you like some more tea?’
