“Back where you belong.” I smiled at her excited face. “And where does Jago fit into this scheme?”

“I’m not sure yet. Small steps, Georgie. I’m not about to make any more mistakes. Jago suggested we might turn Trengilly into a hotel—with all these bathrooms! Have a manager on-site . . .”

“Jago?”

“Maybe. But anyway, it’s an exciting prospect, isn’t it?”

“I’m happy for you,” I said. “Look, there’s your father. You’d better go to lunch.”

THE NEXT DAY I caught the train up to London and then transferred to Waterloo to journey home. I had called my housekeeper to let her know I was coming and to have Phipps pick me up at the station, and I arrived at just about teatime.

“Welcome home, my lady,” Mrs. Holbrook said. “Would you like your tea served in the drawing room? I’ve had a lovely big fire made up there. It’s certainly nippy out today, isn’t it?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Holbrook,” I said. “I’ll go on through.”

The fire was blazing away, the room looked comfortable and welcoming. This is my house, I thought. My home. And I felt a great swell of pride and happiness. I had just settled into one of the armchairs when I heard the sound of approaching feet. I looked up, expecting tea, but instead Darcy came into the room.

“I beat you to it,” he said, beaming at my astonished face. “Welcome home.” He came over and kissed me. “I’m glad to have you back safe and sound.”

“I’m glad to be back,” I said. “Sit down. Tea is about to be served.”

“Did Belinda come with you?” he asked.

“She decided to stay on down there.”

“Jago, I presume?”

I nodded. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea or not.”

“He’s a good chap. Solid. He may be right for her.”

“I hope so. She deserves some happiness at last,” I said, then looked up as I heard the rattle of the tea trolley. In it came, pushed by Queenie herself. It was laden with every kind of cake and biscuit imaginable: chocolate éclairs, cream puffs, brandy snaps, maids of honor, meringues, a Victoria sponge, a large plum cake, shortbreads, sandwiches and scones.

“Wotcher, miss. When she told me you were coming home I got busy,” she said.

“Queenie!” I exclaimed. “When I said enough cakes and pastries I never meant . . . Now you’ve gone too far in the other direction.”

“Some people are never bloomin’ satisfied,” Queenie said. “I work me fingers to the bone making everything that you like and you’re having a good old moan about it.”

“I am not having a moan, I promise you,” I said. “It’s just that—how are we going to eat all these before they spoil?”

“Now we’ve no option. We’ll just have to invite the neighbors to tea,” Darcy said with a cheeky grin.