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‘Honesty? No, that seems to be in short supply.’

‘What does that mean?’ He forced himself not to swallow.

‘I sometimes think we’re all telling ourselves little fibs to maintain the status quo, to not have to face the truth.’

‘What truth can’t you face?’

‘Oh, like there’s not some gorgeous woman pining for you at home.’

He wasn’t ready for the spotlight to be turned back on him so brightly. Her aim was deadly. ‘I didn’t say that,’ he countered, sipping carefully.

‘So there is someone waiting for you at home?’

‘I didn’t say that either,’ he added, hoping he was achieving a playful tone but not convinced he had. All he heard was sidestepping. ‘I think my mother would love me to be home, now you mention it.’

She wasn’t buying it, he could tell, but he liked that she played along. It gave him time to shore up his defences.

‘Where does she live?’

‘In East Sussex. My father’s dead, before you ask.’

‘No other siblings?’

‘None,’ he said, hoping that ended the line of questioning.

‘Sorry to sound nosey; these are everyday polite questions, of course, but somehow you make me feel like I’m prodding at a bruise.’

You are. ‘No need to apologise. Um, how about you? Looking forward to children?’

Alex didn’t answer immediately and then they were interrupted by the arrival of the housekeeper precisely as the mantelpiece clock gave a soft chime to confirm it was eight-thirty.

‘Over here, Norma,’ Alex said, standing to meet her at the round table. ‘We can turn it into a sort of picnic by the fire.’

Norma gave her mistress a look of practised disdain. ‘As you wish. We’ve got simple fishcakes with a parsley sauce and garden cake for later, plus there’s some cheese, of course.’

‘We’ll have the cake with my parents when coffee is served.’

‘I’ll forget about the cheese then, I take it?’

Harry watched the mistress give a tiny nod.

‘Er, is Mr Britten-Jones definitely home tomorrow? It’s just that Joyce is leaving now and said she would pick up the chicken tomorrow morning on her way in.’

He noted Alex’s frown. ‘No. He rang to say it will be Thursday now.’ She blinked as if admonishing her cook.

‘I see,’ Norma replied. ‘Well, call me if you need anything, madam.’

‘Thank you,’ Alex murmured. When the door closed, she uttered a low growl. ‘I do love that woman but she pushes her luck sometimes. Please, come and help yourself.’

Even that polite invitation seemed to carry a note of undertone that she knew he registered by the way his expression sparkled barely couched amusement.

Harry arrived at the table. ‘I gather the enquiry about your husband was for my benefit?’ he asked, and was as surprised as his host was when he lightly touched her hand. ‘I think she’s making sure I know my place.’

Alex gazed down at their fingers, not intertwined, but the warmth between their skin, the affection he suspected she could feel coming through that simple touch, was presumably palpable for her too because she seemed lost for how to respond. ‘Er . . .’ She hesitated and then cleared her throat as he pulled back. The touch had been brief, meant as reassurance, but in the heartbeat of reaching for her and making contact Harry understood the connection lacked the simple innocence he intended.

‘Forgive me. That was inappropriate. Should I leave?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Norma would kill you.’