Oscar found his father propped up on his pillows in bed with a breakfast tray across his lap.

The old man beamed at his son as he pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. ‘So? Good trip was it?’

Oscar nodded. ‘It went very well indeed. William was so impressed with Ruby’s designs but . . .’ He licked his lips before going on. ‘What you said to me a short time ago, about Serena . . . The thing is, I’ve asked her if she’ll be my wife when my divorce comes through and she’s accepted me. Of course, we’re not making it public knowledge yet – I don’t want to ruin her reputation – but I felt I had to tell you.’

There was a bright twinkle in his father’s eye as he clapped him on the shoulder. ‘And it’s about bloody time too,’ he laughed. ‘I thought the pair of you would never get around to admitting your feelings for each other. I’m pleased for you, lad. You’ve got a good ’un there.’

‘I think so too,’ Oscar agreed and when he left to go to work a short time later there was a spring in his step that had been absent for a very long time.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Two

‘This is a surprise,’ Hermione said when she answered the door to find her great-niece on the doorstep later that morning. ‘I thought you were in France.’

‘I was.’ Miranda breezed past her and threw her coat across the bannister rail. ‘But there were a few problems there so I decided to come home.’

‘I see. And to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit so soon after the last one?’ There was a trace of sarcasm in Hermione’s voice but Miranda gritted her teeth and ignored it. It wouldn’t do to go upsetting the old lady now.

‘I just wanted to see you, that’s all. And Ruby, of course,’ she told her with a sickly grin.

‘Then you’re going to be disappointed on one score at least because Ruby is in the workshop working,’ Hermione said bluntly as she snatched Miranda’s coat up and hung it on the coat rack.

‘Then I’ll go in to her,’ Miranda said brightly. ‘And don’t worry, I won’t disturb her. I’ll just watch her working.’ And before Hermione could object, she was gone, leaving the older woman to shake her head.

‘If that little madam isn’t up to something then I’ll eat my hat,’ she told Mrs B as she joined her in the kitchen.

Mrs B looked up from the dough she was kneading and nodded. ‘It does seem odd,’ she agreed. ‘She was only here at Christmas an’ shouldn’t she be at that posh school in France?’

‘She said there had been a few problems there so she came home.’