Judy, of course, hadn’t been able to compete. Surely few women would, and indeed Tom admitted to himself, as he watched a heron rise from the sparkling waters of the lake, victoriously carting off a perch—Mother knew better than to use koi—Judy had not been in any sense disastrous. She was subdued and didn’t say much more than “good evening,” and “I’m sure Tom is delighted to see you.” There was no attempt to present herself as the hostess. And her dress was—well, suitable: navy velvet, with a sapphire pendant he had presented her with.

In fact, he’d been giving her a lot of jewellery lately. It saved having to talk.

Because something felt wrong. Like that dress. Certainly presentable, but uninspired. And Judy’s whole presence in this house. Tom sensed that she held herself very carefully. Was that what he wanted in a girlfriend?

She was . . . uneasy.

Perhaps with good cause. This was the first time he’d really given himself permission to think things through. Tom hated to admit he’d made a mistake, but it was becoming clearer that he had to do something. Judy Dean was intelligent and charismatic and interesting. But she wasn’t inspiring feeling in him. And as good as she was in bed, he felt a little exhausted; the hardness of her body, at first so sexy, was now slightly repellent. He wanted softness in a woman. Judy’s steel core reminded him, in unpleasant ways, of his grandmother.

It’s a joke, Tom thought. I’m meant to be the big man around here, but I still think of my mother. Grandmother is chivvying me along like a hen being hurried back into the henhouse at night. And I’m stuck here in the countryside with a woman that I don’t really want, presiding at my family table.

He was due downstairs for dinner shortly; Judy had told the cook she wanted roast pheasant with chestnut sauce and candied walnuts, one of his favourite dishes; there would be mashed potatoes, peas, and a glass of good claret. All very pleasant—but how much more pleasant, Tom thought, if he didn’t have to eat it with Judy.

Right now she was at the office. Thank God; he would be better able to think without her here.

Well. His grounds did look inviting, bathed in the warm light of sunset. Tom decided to go for a walk; he wanted to clear his head.

“You’re looking around, my dear.” Katherine reached across to Judy and patted her on the knee. “You mustn’t stare, you know; it’s not done to look impressed.”

“I wasn’t—”