St James stirred to say, 'Good. That's just as well. I've a mountain of work to get through here.'

Lady Helen felt the sort of confusion that requires an accompanying cry of protest. The world as she knew it was taking on a new shape. Longing to ask the obvious question, she looked from St James to Cotter, but their reserve warned her off. Still, she could tell that Cotter was willing to say more. He appeared to be waiting for the other man to make some additional comment that would allow him to do so. But instead St James merely ran a hand through his unruly black hair. Cotter shifted on his feet.

‘I’ll be about my business, then.' With a nod, he left the room, but his shoulders looked burdened and his steps were heavy.

'Let me understand this,' Lady Helen said. 'Tommy's fetching Deborah from the airport. Tommy. Not you?'

It was a reasonable enough question. Thomas Lynley, Lord Asherton, was an old friend to both St James and Lady Helen, something of a colleague as well since for the past ten years he had worked in the Criminal Investigation Department of New Scotland Yard. In both capacities, he had been a frequent visitor to St James' Cheyne Row house. But when on earth, Lady Helen wondered, had he come to know Deborah Cotter well enough to be the one to meet her at the airport after her time away at school? To phone her father coolly with the arrangements every bit as if he were… what on earth was Tommy to Deborah?

'He's been to America to see her,' St James replied. 'A number of times. He never told you that, Helen?'

'Good heavens.' Lady Helen was nonplussed. 'How do you know that? Surely Deborah didn't tell you. As for Tommy, he knows that you've always—'

'Cotter told me last year. I suppose he'd spent some time wondering about Tommy's intentions, as any father might.'