He cleared his throat. ‘And it was entirely understandable. I was at fault and I apologise. I wasn’t completely upfront with you.’
Her frown eased a fraction. She gave a brief nod.
‘Would you like a coffee?’ he offered.
She didn’t bother answering, just shot him a look that said everything. Around here there was only one source of coffee she deemed drinkable, and it wasn’t Brenda’s.
‘Wise,’ he said. He closed the door behind her as she stepped fully into the room and looked around.
‘It’s been years since I’ve been in this room.’
‘I’m sure nothing’s changed.’
Her smile slipped. ‘Because that’s how people like it.’
He chose to ignore that.
‘I’ve been told this is where “gentlemen” guests used to retire after dinner with a port,’ he said.
Lucy huffed a sardonic little laugh. ‘To discuss important things while the little ladies talked about children.’
‘Ah yes,’ he couldn’t resist, ‘the good old days.’
She shot him a sharp look. ‘Then why get rid of them?’
‘Because no one behaves like that these days. No one wants to be separated from the opposite sex.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Lucy said. ‘Although I think you always do.’
She glanced at him from under her cap as she said it. He decided to let that one pass. For now.
As he searched for a retort, his mind drifted — unhelpfully — to the idea of Lucy as some sort of Spartan warrior. Tall, lean, all edges and purpose. Throw in a shield and a spear, she’d fit right in.
She moved to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, running her fingers along the spines. She looked at home in the room, with its high stud, cornices and the two Corinthian columns flanking the ornate fireplace, even with the threadbare Persian rug underfoot and water stains blooming on the plaster.
‘My sister Jen would love these,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder. ‘She’s a bibliophile. Loves to write them, read them, hoard them.’
‘She’s welcome to look through and take what she likes. The rest will go to a second-hand bookshop.’
He hadn’t actually decided, but that could be someone else’s problem. As long as everything was gone when the wrecking crew arrived, he was happy.
Lucy nodded. ‘I’ll mention it. I spotted some local history on the shelves. Could be useful.’
‘I didn’t have you pegged as a historian.’
‘I’m not. But we’re looking into something at the moment. A family mystery.’
‘Oh? Intriguing.’
‘Not really. More like frustrating.’
‘Why don’t you sit down and tell me about it?’
‘It’s a private family matter,’ she said, clearly closing that door. But she did sit, running her hand over the leather as it creaked beneath her. ‘I’m sure you understand.’
‘Of course. And if you see anything here you’d like, it’s yours.’
‘Books aren’t my thing, but I can appreciate them. So I want to keep them despite that. Not personally, you understand. But because sometimes we have to think about the wider picture. Like, I don’t know… other people’s wants and needs.’
