Lydia unfastened her seat belt and climbed out, catching sight of a beautifully manicured lawn stretching out to the side of the house. It was a stunning place. Which made it strange, surely, for such a wealthy man to leave a godmother he loved with so little?

She lifted out the cat basket. Why not set her up with a little cottage in the grounds? There was bound to be one. Probably more than one.

‘Lydia Stanford?’

Lydia spun round. ‘Yes. I have…Nimrod.’

‘Mr Regan-Phillips did telephone,’ the other woman said with a nod. Her eyes looked past Lydia and seemed to scan the bushes behind her.

It was strange, preoccupied behaviour. She’d expected to be asked in for a cup of tea or something—a chance to see inside the inner sanctum of Nicholas Regan-Phillips’s impressive home. A chance to glean some snippet of information she could regale Izzy with.

Instead the housekeeper seemed completely distracted. Her face was agitated and her eyes were continually darting around as though she were searching for something.

‘Are you all right?’ Lydia asked abruptly.

‘Yes, I…’ the other woman broke off ‘…that is…’

There was the sound of tyres on gravel and the housekeeper looked round. ‘Thank heaven!’

Lydia turned round in time to see Nicholas Regan-Phillips’s dark green Jaguar twist up the drive. She watched as he climbed out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.

Actually, she thought dispassionately, he was sexier than she’d first thought—if that was possible. He was taller, sharper. He looked as though he was used to the world working exactly as he wished it would. And there was something incredibly attractive about that.

She watched as his housekeeper surged forward, stopping him, the hapless Nimrod still imprisoned in the cat basket. Lydia caught no more than snatches of their conversation, words carried back to her on the breeze. ‘We thought she was sleeping—’

Nick looked past her and his eyes locked with Lydia’s. He crossed towards her, his feet scrunching on the gravel. ‘I’m sorry. It seems my daughter, Rosie, has gone missing,’ he explained quietly.

Instantly Lydia’s mind flew through possible options. Was it possible she’d been kidnapped?

Something of that must have shown on her face because he added, ‘It’s something she does quite frequently. The grounds are fully enclosed; I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.’

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