‘Lily? However did you get here? Did you come by bus?’ The Comtesse de Tourney was clearly puzzled to find her granddaughter in a country inn. ‘Did you know I was lunching here?’
‘G–g–grandmama! N–no, I didn’t know you were here – but I’m glad to see you – that is – I –’ Lily gulped some air and tried to speak calmly. ‘Are you going to London?’
‘Did you not receive my letter?’ asked the Comtesse. ‘Or my telephone message?’
‘N–no, I’m afraid not.’ Lily gave her grandmother a quick hug. ‘I wish I’d known you were coming to England, I’d have made sure I was here to meet you. Not here, of course, but in London – if that’s what you wanted. I didn’t know you’d be here, of course, but it’s lovely to see you, Grandmama. Did you come for the food? I believe it’s very famous.’
Lily knew she was babbling, but she had no idea how to even begin to tell the Comtesse how she came to be at the White Hart, never mind explain about Ronan. If he would only stay at Joe’s, Lily might be able to get a message to him through Molly and he could stay out of sight until her grandmother had gone.
The Comtesse regarded her thoughtfully. ‘As I explained in my letter, I have been planning a visit to England for some time. I have several old friends to see, one of whom is Gustave. He was chef at our villa at Cap Ferrat. Before your time,’ she added dryly. ‘When Angel told me she’d had to cancel her weekend with you, I decided to come earlier than I had originally planned and take you out. But none of this explains what you are doing here. You say you did not come to meet me?’
‘No – you see –’ Lily’s explanation was cut short by a cheerful shout.
‘Hey, Rapunzel!’
Stifling a groan, Lily turned to see Ronan practically waltzing down the hall clad in nothing but a bath towel. It clung to his body and she wasn’t surprised to hear the Comtesse’s sudden intake of breath at the sight of the superbly defined sixpack outlined by the smooth, tanned skin above his navel.
And it wasn’t only Ronan’s stomach that was firm and muscled. His towel (Did he use the bath mat by accident? wondered Lily foolishly) ended at mid-thigh and it seemed to her as though his leg muscles had been formed by a master sculptor.
Her cheeks burned hot at the thought and she tried to think of something to say. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what her grandmother was thinking and, for a split second, Lily considered pretending not to see him in the hope that he might take the hint and just keep on walking.
I wish, thought Lily, before her brain contradicted her. No, I don’t wish.
Okay, so her grandmother had turned up unexpectedly from Paris and found her in a hotel hallway being greeted by a guy wearing nothing but a bath towel. But it looked much worse than it really was. All she needed was a chance to explain.
Once Grandmama had met Ronan and got to know him, Lily was sure everything would be fine. For a split-second she imagined the three of them sitting in the restaurant drinking tea and eating seed-cake and English muffins, and laughing about their unlucky adventure.
But it was only for a second.
‘I forgot my clothes,’ said Ronan, breaking the silence. ‘Do you reckon you could grab ’em for me, Lily?’
‘Uh . . . sure . . . I can.’
‘Stay where you are,’ commanded the Comtesse, stopping Lily in mid-step.
Ronan looked at her enquiringly, while Lily, her brain alternating between fear and embarrassment, forced herself to speak. ‘Uh, Grandmama, I – I’d like you to meet a friend of mine –’
She broke off as Ronan’s towel slipped below his hip, revealing a red-and-green snake tattoo that was startlingly familiar.
‘Oh!’ gasped Lily and thought she heard a faint echoing gasp from the Comtesse. She chanced a sideways glance at her and was astonished to see her grandmother’s eyes fixed on the tattoo.
After a second, the Comtesse lifted her head and gazed coldly at Ronan. ‘A friend?’ she repeated. ‘And does your friend have a name?’ she demanded.
Ronan instantly stepped forward and held out his hand (Lily was relieved to see his other hand firmly holding his towel). ‘Good afternoon,’ he said, meeting the Comtesse’s icy stare and standing as tall as if he were wearing evening clothes. ‘I’m Ronan Carver, a friend of Lily’s.’
‘Indeed?’ replied the Comtesse, ignoring his outstretched hand. ‘And are you, what I believe is called, “a friend with benefits”?’
‘Grandmama!’ cried Lily, blushing fierily. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say! Ronan –’
‘Mr Carver is in an out-of-the-way hotel with my sixteen-year-old granddaughter,’ interjected the Comtesse in what Lily had always thought of as her guillotine voice: just one syllable had the ability to slice through the most confident utterance. ‘He is nearly naked, undeniably handsome, and a total stranger to me. And, I suspect, to your father.’
Lily waited for Ronan to dissolve into a puddle before her eyes, but he just stood there, apparently impervious to her grandmother’s powers.
After a moment he dropped his hand, bowed slightly and said calmly, ‘You are right about one thing, señora. I am a stranger to you, but –’
‘Spanish, are you?’ interrupted the Comtesse, looking at him as if he’d just crawled out from under the nearest rock.
‘Half Spanish, half Irish,’ replied Ronan coolly.
‘Well, I am not “señora”,’ declared her grandmother. ‘I am the Comtesse de Tourney and I should like to know who gave you permission to bring my granddaughter to –’ she waved an imperious hand, ‘this hotel!’
Ronan frowned and, with a sinking heart, Lily saw the beginnings of his glowering look. ‘I had permission from the only person who needed to give it. I had it from Lily.’ A tight-lipped smile touched his lips and he stood even straighter. ‘Had I known your name, señora,’ added Ronan, emphasising the title with icy politeness, ‘I would have called you by it. Unfortunately, we have not yet been formally introduced and so, out of respect for your age, I call you “señora”, exactly as my mother taught me.’
‘And did your mother also teach you to behave like a young Lothario and seduce my granddaughter?’ snapped the Comtesse, her eyes sparkling dangerously.
‘Grandmama!’ cried Lily, aghast. ‘Please, it’s not like that! You don’t underst–’
‘Thank you, Lily. I understand perfectly. This young man has outstayed his welcome and is about to leave.’
Lily saw the anger kindling in Ronan’s eyes and hastily interceded. ‘It’s okay, Ronan, I can explain.’ She turned to the Comtesse. ‘Ronan was just being kind, Grandmama. My first public critique with Arathula Dane was kind of rough and he figured I could use some time away from the Academy. So when Angel had to cancel our weekend together, he offered to take me out and I –’
Her voice trailed away beneath the Comtesse’s haughty stare. ‘If you had received my telephone message, Lily, you would know that I had arranged to come in Angel’s stead.’
‘I honestly didn’t get it, Grandmama.’
‘Which is regrettable but,’ the Comtesse looked at her watch, ‘not of the least consequence now that I have found you here. Indeed, one might that say our meeting is almost serendipitous, given that it is not yet two o’clock and we still have plenty of time to get to London. Henri is outside with the car, so if you have your things we can go.’
‘Go? To London? Oh, no, Grandmama,’ cried Lily. ‘I can’t leave Ronan here by himself.’
The Comtesse raised her eyebrows, stared directly at Ronan’s tattoo, and said crisply, ‘You most certainly can – indeed, you will leave him here. You will come with me now and we will forget all about this unfortunate . . . mistake.’
‘It’s you who’s made the mistake, señora,’ said Ronan evenly. ‘I was simply taking Lily on a picnic to Dover. Nothing more. But for a minor accident, we would have been in Dover by now, enjoying the view. I –’
‘It wasn’t Ronan’s fault, Grandmama,’ interrupted Lily. ‘He wasn’t going fast, but there was a cow across the lane and so he had to go through the hedge. I’m sure that anyone else would have hit the cow, but Ronan is a brilliant driver and we would’ve been fine, except that when the bike landed I almost fell off and that made him wobble and so the motorcycle went into the duck pond –’
‘– and so did we,’ finished Ronan. ‘Luckily it was a soft landing, but we got soaked, so I brought Lily to the White Hart to get out of her wet things and put on some dry clothes. I never –’
‘Motorcycle?’ interjected the Comtesse, her voice even deadlier than before. ‘You took my granddaughter on a motorcycle?’
‘He’s a very safe driver, Grandmama,’ protested Lily.
‘I don’t care if he’s Valentino Rossi!’ retorted the Comtesse. ‘He had no business doing anything so dangerous.’
‘I can assure you that I am a very experienced driver, señora,’ said Ronan firmly.
‘I’m fine, Grandmama. I promise. There’s not a scratch on me.’
‘I am delighted to hear it, Lily, but that is no thanks to this irresponsible, brazen young man! And if this is the sort of person with whom you are choosing to be friends at the Academy, then –’
‘Ronan’s not at the Academy, Grandmama, he’s –’
‘Some random stranger you met on the street, I suppose?’ snapped her grandmother. ‘No,’ she held up her hand as Lily opened her mouth to explain. ‘I have heard enough, Lily! We are leaving.’ She looked daggers at Ronan. ‘I am sure that Mr – Carver, was it? – can see to his motorbike and get himself back to whichever part of London he came from. Indeed, I am convinced he will travel faster alone.’
‘But we came together,’ cried Lily. She pushed a hand through her damp hair and stammered, ‘I – I’m sorry, Grandmama, but – but I’m n–not leaving without Ronan. I don’t even know if – if his bike is okay and if it’s not, how will he get back to London?’
‘Don’t worry about me, Lily,’ said Ronan softly. ‘I can take care of myself.’
‘I’m sure you can, young man,’ said the Comtesse with a thin smile. She turned to Lily. ‘If it will allay your fears, I will have Henri ascertain the state of Mr Carver’s motorcycle.’
‘Thank you, señora,’ said Ronan coolly, ‘but that won’t be necessary. I can handle my own affairs.’ He swept her a mocking bow.
But Lily had found another morsel of courage. ‘I can’t go with you, Grandmama. I came here with Ronan and I’m going back with Ronan. Even if it means catching a bus.’
‘In that case, Lily,’ said the Comtesse with an icy calm, ‘the choice is yours. You can come with me now in the Bentley and leave your – er – friend to make his own way home. Or, I can report this rather regrettable motorcycle accident to the local police.’ She fingered the triple strand of pearls around her neck. ‘While I will be the first to admit that no serious damage has been done, I am sure they will be most interested to learn of Mr Carver’s illegal behaviour.’
Lily stared at her in dismay. The last time she’d heard her grandmother sound so pompous it had marked the end of the career of an (admittedly unpleasant and decidedly lecherous) Russian diplomat.
‘Illegal behaviour, Grandmama? What do you mean?’
‘Why don’t you ask Mr Carver, Lily?’ said the Comtesse. ‘I feel sure he knows exactly what I am talking about.’
‘Ronan?’ Lily turned to him and was stunned to see an anxious crease between his brows. ‘What is she talking about?’
He held out his hands to her. ‘I’m sorry, Lily. It was wrong of me to assume – but we were wearing full helmets and leathers so I figured no one would know. Still, I shouldn’t have taken you out on the bike without telling you –’
‘Telling me what?’ she interjected, looking from Ronan to her grandmother. ‘What? What has Ronan done wrong? Tell me!’
‘I think, you will find, Lily,’ said the Comtesse, ‘that, as my godson Nicky recently informed me, in Britain one needs a full licence in order to carry a pillion passenger. I sincerely doubt that Mr Carver has yet reached the minimum age of nineteen!’
Ronan paled but said nothing.
‘I thought so,’ said the Comtesse. She held out her hand to Lily. ‘Shall we go?’ She moved towards the door and, with a last forlorn look at Ronan, Lily reluctantly followed.
But Ronan was not done.
‘Of course, you’re right, señora,’ he said, raising his voice just enough to ensure that she heard him. ‘And my mam would skin me if she knew I’d taken Lily on the bike.’ They turned to find him staring at them defiantly. ‘My dad, though – my dad would be proud.’
‘Would he?’ said the Comtesse grimly.
‘My dad made mistakes, but he still taught me plenty. And he was definitely right about one thing.’
‘Oh?’ said the Comtesse.
Ronan lifted his chin, looked her straight in the eye and said firmly, ‘Yeah, he taught me to never kowtow to the toffs.’