“How do they . . . ?”

“Slop buckets.”

“Ugh.”

“Yes, I think they haven’t updated because they consider the conditions to be a deterrent to criminals.”

“It’s enough of a deterrent for me.”

“And for me, too, so don’t wheedle me into compromising myself.”

“Was I wheedling?”

“You were about to, weren’t you?”

“Well, yes, though I like to think I would have wheedled charmingly.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment.”

“I should have wheedled when we were in bed, then I would have had more leverage.”

“So to speak.”

She laughed. “So to speak.”

—

Felicity bustled in on schedule, introductions were made, and a stiff whiskey and soda placed in her hand by Geoffrey, who had not had to ask her pleasure.

“I feel so at home in this house,” she said, and behind her, Gala rolled her eyes.

“You’ve known it far longer than I,” Stone said, letting himself off her hook. He turned to Gala. “It was Felicity who insisted I fly here from Rome. She made me buy the house.”

“What happened to the previous owner?”

“He was ill at the time and died a few weeks later.”

“It all looks so fresh,” she said.

“Yes, a well-known London designer completely redid it for the previous owner. It was nearly done when I first saw it.”

“She is a very good designer,” Gala said, casting an eye around the room.

“She is, indeed,” Felicity said. “Stone and his French partner had her do the big house next door, too. It’s now an Arrington.”

“We saw it this afternoon while riding,” Gala said.

“Stone, has your new boat arrived?”

“It’s due any day. Hinckley is sending over a team to launch it and to educate me in its operation.”

“Wasn’t your last boat a Hinckley?”

“Yes, but the layout and equipment are all new to me. I’ll need to know how to handle light maintenance.”

“And who will do the heavy maintenance?”

“Hinckley has arranged that with a Southampton yard.”

“How convenient.”

“Do you live nearby, Dame Felicity?” Gala asked.

“Oh, yes, just across the river.”

“How convenient.”

Stone cringed a little.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it? And you must drop the Dame—I’m just plain Felicity.”

“Thank you.”

“You are most welcome, Gala.”

Geoffrey called them to table, and they polished off their drinks. They were given a pâté of smoked mackerel to start, with a glass of very dry sherry, and a crown roast of lamb to follow, with potatoes au gratin and haricots verts.

“The lamb is from the estate next door,” Stone said, “and the vegetables are from our own garden.”

“And the wine?” Gala asked.

“A Chateau Palmer 1978,” Stone replied, swirling some in his glass and tasting it. “I think we’ll drink it.”

Both women made appreciative noises about the wine.

“Felicity,” Gala said, “Stone tells me you are in the intelligence business.”