Veronica extricated the umbrella and tossed it into her bag. “That’s for my scrapbook. It will always remind me of this special day with you, dear Mr. Gray.”

“Are you sure you’re not chilled by the wind?” he asked anxiously. “Let me go get a sweater for you.”

“No need,” Veronica proclaimed as she yanked a shawl out of her seemingly bottomless tote bag. “Dear Regan thinks of everything.”

Regan thought she detected hostility in the glance Gabby threw at her.

“And now I must complete the book of my favorite author. Mr. Gray, did you know that Regan’s mother is Nora Regan Reilly, the famous suspense writer?”

Gabby had a twisted, sadistic look on his face. Alarmed, Regan noticed her mother and father were just coming around the side of the pool. She was sure Gabby spotted them at the same moment. He clamped his lips as Nora whirled around and fled back into the lounge, a resigned-looking Luke in her wake.

At 4 P.M. Regan and Veronica started upstairs to begin packing before dinner.

“As Regan has pointed out, it would be so much better if we get most of it out of the way before dinner, since the bags have to be out in the hallway before we retire.” Veronica waved the tote bag at Gavin. “Au ’voir.”

Chapter 53

OXFORD

THERE WAS NOTHING he could do except wait out the return of Val and Philip. Livingston decided he might as well go home and have a decent dinner with the family. His wife, Maude, always sensitive to his moods, observed quietly, “Something brewing, I gather. I was sure I’d be putting the lamb in the fridge for you.”

He was attacking it vigorously. “It would be a shame not to have it fresh and hot. I do have to go out later.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Davina wailed. “I was hoping you could drive me and Elizabeth and Courtney and Laura to cinema.”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid.”

“But we’re all planning to go.” Davina looked horrified. “It’s important.”

“I’d like to think that my appointment is important too,” Livingston said dryly. “Where are Elizabeth’s and Courtney’s and Laura’s fathers tonight?”

“All very busy. Maybe you could—”

“Davina, let your father enjoy his dinner in peace,” Maude ordered.

Peace. Livingston looked at Davina with irritated affection. Since the moment they’d carried her home from hospital, peace had been a rare commodity in this household.

Somehow that reminded him of Athena Popolous. From what he’d learned, she’d been at odds with her parents. Not that Davina was at odds, of course. But Athena had been only five years older than this pretty child who was looking at him with such indignant eyes. And Athena had been strangled and left to rot covered by brambles and underbrush.