Probably because this is undoubtedly going to be his least favourite appointment of the day, and he wants to get it over with, she thought, with a sigh.

When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, she was surprised to find Barney accompanying her across the hall, whimpering with excitement.

He must think Andrew’s simply been away and has just returned, she told herself, her throat tightening again. But it’s the sound of his key that he’s always recognised in the past.

She tucked a hand into his collar, knowing that not everyone relished being hit amidships by a large and exuberant Labrador, and opened the door.

She began, ‘Good evening,’ then stopped with the words ‘Mr Hargreaves’ freezing on her lips.

Because the man standing in front of her was certainly not the family solicitor. For a moment, he seemed part of the darkness, his black trench coat hanging open over a charcoal grey suit, with a leather satchel on a long strap hanging from one shoulder. His hair was dark too, and glossy as a raven’s wing, even if it was over-long and slightly dishevelled.

For the rest of him, he was tall, with a lean tanned face and heavy-lidded dark brown eyes. Not good-looking, was her overriding impression. Not with that thin-lipped, uncompromising mouth, nor that beak of a nose, which looked as if it had been broken at some point, and a chin that by contrast seemed to threaten to break any fist which dared approach it.

And yet he was, in some incomprehensible way, faintly familiar, and she found this disturbing.

But Barney had no reservations about the newcomer. With a whine of delight, he broke free of Ginny’s suddenly slackened hold and pushed himself against the stranger’s legs.

‘Barney! Sit down, sir.’ There was a faint quiver in her voice, but the dog obeyed, tail thumping and brown eyes gazing up in liquid adoration.

She said, ‘I’m sorry. He’s not usually like this with—people he doesn’t know.’ Or with people he does know most of the time...

The man bent and stroked the smooth golden head, gently pulling Barney’s ears.

‘It is not a problem.’ A low-pitched voice, slightly husky, with a definite accent that was certainly not local.

As he straightened, Ginny realised she was being looked over in turn. His face betrayed nothing, but she sensed he was not impressed by what he saw.

Which makes two of us, she thought.

She took a breath. ‘I’m sorry. Were we expecting you?’

‘Mr Hargreaves expects me,’ he said. ‘He asked me to meet him here.’

‘Oh—I see,’ she said untruthfully, trying and failing to connect this tough who appeared to need a shave with the ultra-conservative firm of Hargreaves and Litton. ‘In which case, you’d better come in.’

And if he turns out to be a master burglar and/or a mass murderer, she addressed Barney silently, I shall blame you.

She turned and walked back to the study, knowing without looking round that he was following her, the dog at his side.

She said, ‘If you’ll wait here. Would you like some coffee?’

‘Thank you, but no.’

Civil, she thought, but terse. And the way he was looking round him, appraising what he saw, much as he’d done with herself, made her even more uneasy.

‘Mr Hargreaves should be here at any minute,’ she went on, and he responded with a silent inclination of the head, as he put down his satchel and shrugged off his trench coat. His shirt she noticed was pearl-grey, open at the neck and he wore a black tie tugged negligently loose.

Feeling she was observing altogether too much, Ginny murmured something about her mother and sister and retired.

In the drawing room, Rosina rose, smoothing her skirt. ‘I presume Mr Hargreaves has arrived, and we can get this farce over and done with.’

‘No, that was someone else—from his office apparently,’ said Ginny, frowning a little as she remembered the tanned and calloused fingers that had fondled Barney. Not, she thought, the hand of someone who worked at a desk. So, who on earth...

Her train of thought was interrupted as the doorbell sounded yet again. She rose but was halted by her mother.

‘Stay here, Virginia. It’s Mrs Pelham’s job to answer the door, while she remains under this roof,’ she added ominously.

Just as if she didn’t know how many of the household tasks Ginny had quietly taken over in the past six months.

The drawing room door opened again to admit Mrs Pelham, back upright, but walking with the aid of a stick. ‘Mr Hargreaves is here, madam. I have shown him into the study.’

Rosina nodded. ‘I’ll join him presently.’

She and Cilla disappeared upstairs to tidy their hair and no doubt freshen their make-up. Ginny, content that she looked neat and tidy enough in her grey skirt and cream polo-necked sweater, remembered the unexpected arrival and grabbed an extra chair on her way through the hall.