The Surgeon's Miracle. Caroline Anderson

not volunteering, I can assure you. I have quite enough to do.’

      ‘I imagine you do. Does your brother know you’re bringing me, by the way?’

      He turned towards her, and in the dim light she could see his eyebrow twitch. ‘As in, did I tell him I’m bringing a girl? Yes. Did I mention why? No.’

      She smiled at that. ‘Won’t he think it’s odd?’

      ‘That I have a social life? No. Should he?’

      ‘No, of course not, but I didn’t mean that.’ She shrugged. ‘I meant—I don’t know—that none of them have ever heard of me. Won’t there be a lot of speculation? Most people wouldn’t turn up for their mother’s sixtieth birthday with a total stranger in tow.’

      ‘They would if they had my mother,’ he said drily, making her laugh. ‘And anyway, speculation is the general idea, isn’t it?’

      ‘Probably.’ She rested her head back and looked across at him. ‘Tell me about your mother, I’m sure she can’t be that bad,’ she said, and listened to him talking about his parents and his childhood with great affection. They were obviously a close-knit and loving family, and she envied them that. Her father was dead, her mother was remarried and lived in blissful penury in Ireland with her artist husband, and she and her married elder sister hardly ever spoke. It wasn’t that they didn’t like each other, but with seven years and several hundred miles between them, they had little in common, and the last time she’d seen her had been at a great-aunt’s funeral a few months ago—a gathering that had opened a potentially devastating can of worms.

      ‘So that’s us. My father, my mother, me, my brother and his wife and a whole horde of cats and dogs and horses and cattle and deer—I take it you’re all right with dogs, by the way? We have quite a few.’

      She pulled herself back to the present and put the troubling thoughts aside. ‘I’m fine with dogs. I’d have one if I wasn’t at work all day.’

      ‘Ditto. Not to mention half the night.’

      ‘Mmm. So tell me about Jacob. I know you’re happier with him now but did you get last night off?’

      He laughed and scrubbed his hand around the back of his neck. ‘Sort of. His left leg was swelling a bit yesterday—that was why they paged me. They thought he might be getting compartment syndrome, but nothing came of it, and I popped in before I went home last night and I went in again early this morning and it seems to have settled. He’s OK—well, orthopaedic-wise, anyway, for the moment. The head injury’s still a bit of a worry and he might need further surgery later on his legs and pelvis if he makes it, but at least that’s looking increasingly likely, thank goodness.’

      ‘So will you have to go back over the weekend?’ she asked, wondering whether he would abandon her to the mercy of his mother and the dowagers, or take her back to Audley with him, but he was shaking his head.

      ‘No, I hope not. This leg is the only critical issue I can see that might involve me, so I might take a quick run back tomorrow to check him, but the team are pretty good and he was looking stable when I left.’

      He turned his head and she caught the flash of teeth as he smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you. I’ll leave you with Will, if I have to dash off. He’ll look after you.’

      ‘I’ll look forward to meeting him. He sounds interesting. ’

      ‘He is, but I hope you’re tough. He’s got a wicked sense of humour and he’s a bit of a tease, and I don’t suppose for a moment he’ll be subtle. Stand by to be quizzed.’

      ‘I’m sure I’ll cope,’ she said drily. ‘I manage the boys on the ward.’

      That made him laugh, and as they turned off the road and rattled over a cattle grid, he threw her a grin. ‘Ready for this?’

      ‘As I’ll ever be,’ she said, although she wasn’t really sure. Not now she knew a little more about them and the scale of the estate. It was sounding grander by the minute. ‘What do I call your mother?’ she asked as an afterthought.

      ‘Jane—and my father’s Tony.’

      Or Lord Ashenden. Or should it be Sir Tony? Sir Anthony? She had no idea. Was he a lord? An earl? A baron? A marquis?

      The titles were confusing, the whole aristocratic hierarchy a mystery to her, and she resolved to find out more about it. Not that it would be necessary to know, after this weekend, of course, because it would never affect her again. She reminded herself of that as they pulled up in what looked like the courtyard of an old stable block and he cut the engine. So far, so good, she thought, looking around in the gloom. It didn’t look too outrageously grand—except of course this was the back. The front was probably altogether different.

      By the time she’d fumbled with the catch on her seat belt, the door was open and he was helping her out. ‘Watch where you walk, it can be a bit uneven on the cobbles and you don’t want to fall off your stilts and wring your ankle.’

      ‘What about our cases?’

      ‘I’ll get them later, unless you want anything from yours now?’ he said, and when she shook her head, he ushered her towards a well-lit doorway with a firm, steadying hand on her back.

      ‘We’ll see if Will and Sally are still here—they’ve got the east wing,’ he said, and she just about stopped her jaw dropping. The east wing? Good grief! Well, she’d known it was big, but for some reason it was only just starting to sink in how big, and she realised her whole house would probably fit into one of the stables!

      ‘Shop!’ he yelled, banging on the door, and it swung in to reveal a younger version of him, slightly taller, identical ice-blue eyes mocking as he scanned his brother’s face.

      ‘You’re cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you?’

      ‘Yeah, well, some of us have to go to work. And it’s not as if you’re in there already.’

      ‘I have been. I came back to check the dog and ring you. Ma was starting to panic. Hi, you must be Libby,’ he said, turning the full force of his charm on her. ‘Come on in. I’m Will,’ he said, and shook her hand firmly. He was looking intrigued and curious and welcoming all at once, and she smiled back, relishing the strength of his grip and utterly charmed by his smile and frank, assessing eyes—eyes just like his brother’s.

      ‘Hello, Will. It’s good to meet you. Andrew’s just been telling me a bit about you.’

      ‘It’ll all be lies,’ he said with a grin. ‘So—how come my brother’s failed to mention you? Is he keeping you a deep, dark secret from Ma?’

      She chuckled. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment,’ she said lightly, and he laughed.

      ‘You don’t need to. Discreet isn’t the word—getting information out of him is like getting blood out of a stone,’ he said with a grin, and then stepped aside to let a great, shaggy grey dog through. ‘This is Lara. Are you all right with dogs?’

      ‘I’m fine with dogs. Hello, Lara. Aren’t you gorgeous?’

      ‘No, she’s a pain,’ Will said affectionately as the lurcher thrashed her long, skinny tail against his leg and slurped Libby’s hand. ‘She’s a terrible thief, so I’ve cleverly trained her to steal my father’s newspapers every morning, but the downside is if we leave anything on the worktop, she eats it.’

      Libby laughed and rubbed the dog’s head. ‘Oh, darling, are you a naughty girl?’ she murmured, and Lara slurped her again with her tongue.

      ‘You’d better believe it,’ Andrew said drily, then sighed. ‘Come on, then, I suppose we ought to go and get this over with. Where’s Sally?’

      ‘In the kitchen trying to stop Ma interfering with the caterers. Come on, let’s go and find them and then the birthday girl can make her grand entrance.’

      Leaving