Chapter 62

Dorincourt rejoined us once again and lounged against a counter, never taking his gaze off my nephew. I recalled how I would stand in a very similar position, watching as Jeremy prepared our meal.

St John glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Ah. It should be done now.” He opened the oven door and used the tea towel to remove the baking dish. “Robert, why don’t you and Uncle James go into the…”

The doorbell rang, and Dorincourt swore under his breath. “What is this, Tra-bloody-falgar Square?”

“Were you expecting anyone?” I asked.

“No. The family all have keys, and none of my friends know I stayed in town.”

St John and I both stood there unmoving. After all, this was Dorincourt’s house.

“That’s all right, I’ll just go see who it is,” he said, his voice rife with false solicitation. He stalked out, muttering, “All I wanted was a quiet dinner with…”