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They made the perfect picture. He couldn't drag his eyes away. And it hadn't been so very long ago that he'd had the desire to see her hold their baby in her arms, love her until the end of his days, care for her and their children, provide and protect. His thoughts were becoming intolerable.
He cleared the tightness from his throat, called 'Come!' as a room-service waiter tapped on the door, and answered Caroline's question. 'Lucy, my mother, settled back in her native Canada after my father died. Up until then they'd been enjoying Dad's retirement in the south of France. Tea?'
He handed her a steaming cup, whether she wanted it or not, and sat Sophie back against the cushions with her feeding beaker of milk. 'She came over with us for a holiday. She's visiting with friends in Surrey but she's more than happy to come and baby-mind Sophie for a couple of days while I get to grips with whatever it is that's rattling your formidable grandmother.'
He watched her assimilate the information he'd given her while she took small, not very interested sips of tea. Elinor Farr had called her eldest granddaughter a chip off the old block. But was that true? Staunch, intelligent, strong and forceful—yes, he'd go along with that. But one thing was out of kilter. Elinor Farr wasn't sneaky and devious, lacking in moral fibre. Caroline Farr, as he'd discovered, was.
Over the next few hours, stuck with her as he was, he would do well to remember that.
CHAPTER TEN
Finn was bathing the baby when Lucy Helliar arrived. 'Sophie's had a very busy day,' Caro explained. 'So Finn thought it best to get her to bed before we left because if she knew you were here she'd get overexcited and wouldn't sleep.'
'Oh, bless her!' Lucy flopped down on the sofa and patted her iron-grey curls into place. 'He's quite right, of course. I've missed the little treasure. I helped Finn bring her up, you know, right from the first. Poor Fleur was too ill—is that fresh tea in the pot?' 'No, but I'll ring down for some.' 'Oh, don't go to that trouble.' She reached for one of the tiny cucumber sandwiches left untouched from the tea that had been served earlier. 'Fix me up a gin and tonic from the mini bar, there's a good girl, and tell me how you like working for that son of mine. I was truly pleased when he let me know he'd got fixed up with a nanny for Sophie so soon. He's very good with her but he's not going to be able to be with her twenty-four hours a day for ever, is he? And do give me your honest opinion of that property he's thinking of buying. He phoned, earlier this afternoon, and told me the news—that he'd found the house he wanted to buy.'
Lucy Helliar was so open and friendly, she practically took Caro's breath away. She only wished the lady's son had inherited some of that openness, then she wouldn't have to keep tormenting her mind wondering why he was acting the way he was.
He had obviously phoned his mother on the mobile outside the borrowed cottage when he'd rudely asked her if she'd lost the use of her legs, emphasising his need for privacy. He might have told his mum about Mytton Wells but he obviously hadn't told her he'd already sacked the new nanny. And Caro wasn't about to remedy the omission.
'I think you'll love the house when you see it.' She set the drink on the low table in front of the sofa. 'I know your son thinks it will be the perfect place for little Sophie to grow up in. Perhaps you'll love it so much you'll consider making your home there with them?'
Perhaps she shouldn't have said that—she was fully aware that it really wasn't any of her business—but she suddenly ached to hear that Finn's little girl would have her grandmother around when her father was, of necessity, away working. She didn't like to think of the tiny girl being brought up by professional carers.
'No, I shan't be living in England. Oh, I'm not saying I won't visit—of course I will. For a couple of months at a time each year. You might call me selfish, but I have my own life, home, family and friends back in my own country. And Finn and Sophie have their life here. It was Finn's wish and choice to return to the land of his birth and make a home for them both. Of course, it was only natural that he should bring Fleur to me after their marriage. We knew by then that she was so dreadfully ill.'
Lucy patted the sofa. 'Please sit down while you're waiting for Finn. And tell me all about yourself.'
Again the friendly invitation, but Caro couldn't do that. She really, really couldn't.
How could she possibly tell this nice friendly soul that she was no more a nanny than her next-door neighbour's cat was, that she had sneaked her way in here with the express intention of seeking revenge? And she wasn't going to tell any more lies. Which left, 'I'd rather you told me about little Sophie's mother.'
For some reason she couldn't bring herself to refer to Fleur as having been Finn's wife and the aversion had nothing whatsoever to do with her protective feelings for her sister.
It had more to do with the way she was beginning to feel about him: as if she couldn't bear to let him out of her sight, as if he belonged to her and no one else. And if she knew more about the glamorous French singer, Fleur Ferrand, and what had happened to her, then she might feel closer to him. She wanted to know everything about every part of his life.
'So Finn didn't give you the details.' Lucy sipped her drink reflectively, then set the glass down, nodding slowly. 'He doesn't like to discuss it, and that's perfectly understandable when one considers the circumstances. Such a terrible tragedy.'
Her eyes lingered on one of the silver-framed photographs. 'She was so lovely, wasn't she? Finn insists those photographs are on display wherever they happen to be so that Sophie will always know who her mother was and what she looked like. And apparently she'd suddenly shot to fame and had a great future ahead of her in the pop music world.'
She sighed deeply, shaking her head. 'Fleur would have hated to think that what happened to her became public knowledge. She always said she wanted the public, especially back in her native France, to remember her as being young, beautiful and successful. But as Sophie's nanny I guess you have a right to know. At least, you should know about the illness that claimed her life.'
'Not if it's personal?
?private—' Caro floundered. She felt perfectly dreadful. A low-life of the sneakiest possible kind. She had no right to know anything.
And how easily Lucy had been deflected from her request to learn more about her granddaughter's nanny; how generously had the elderly lady offered to give her details on a private family tragedy. She was going to have to confess, tell Lucy Helliar that she was no longer in her son's employ—
'She's out for the count.' Finn walked through, buttoning the cuffs of the crisp white shirt he'd changed into as he came to greet his parent with a hug. 'Thanks for coming. I wouldn't have asked you to break into your visit if it hadn't been important. I should be back later tonight, but if I think I need to stay longer with Elinor Fair I'll let you know. Dad helped set up some complicated trust funds when her husband, Ambrose, was alive, remember?'
'Very well,' Lucy concurred. 'They were great friends. And you must stay as long as you feel you need to.'
'Just long enough to find out why she suddenly feels there's cause for anxiety.' He shot a look at his wristwatch, his voice cooling noticeably as he asked, 'Ready, Caroline?'
She nodded, her throat closing up. He was looking at her as if she were a particularly virulent form of poison. She collected her shoulder bag and the canvas hold-all she'd packed the rest of her gear into and Lucy said, 'I do hope your mother makes a full and rapid recovery. But don't worry about this end—I'm more than happy to take your place for as long as you need. I've got plenty of time to go visit my friends again.'
'So you didn't explain that I'd thrown you off the job,' Finn remarked coldly a few minutes later as the lift carried them down to street level. 'You let her think you'd be coming right back. What a devious, sneaky little creature you are.'
He knew his reaction was over the top. It was perfectly understandable that she would have felt embarrassed at having to explain.
