Blood in the Cotswolds Read Online Free

I’ll watch from behind the laurel.’
    Pulling a face at him, Thea got up and followed the spaniel. The slam of the car door reverberated just as she rounded the row of shrubs and set eyes on a tall dark man fondling the long ears of the excessively hospitable dog.
    He was impossibly handsome. Words like chiselled and debonair flittered through her head. He had deep-set eyes, full lips, straight black brows. He looked to be in his mid-forties, perhaps, with no trace of silver in his hair and a supple body as he bent down to the dog. He wore a thin shirt, with at least two of the buttons undone, and cream trousers that made her think of cricket.
    ‘Hello?’ she said.
    ‘Good afternoon.’ It was a Noel Coward drawl: easy, assured, slightly amused. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude, but I’ve come to find Miss Deacon. Is she in?’ He glanced at the two cars parked tidily side by side in front of the garage.
    ‘No, she’s away. I’m her house-sitter. Thea Osborne.’ She almost held out a hand for him to shake, but something stopped her.
    ‘Hi, Thea Osborne.’ He paused, looking at the upper storey of the house, as if checking the veracity of Thea’s words. ‘I’m Rupert Temple-Pritchett.’ The scattering of plosives in his name made it sound military and intimidating. Thea silently repeated it to herself, wonderingly.
    ‘Temple,’ she said. ‘Something tells me that’s not a coincidence. This being Temple Guiting, I mean.’
    ‘Well spotted,’ he smiled. ‘A scion of the oldest family in the area, that’s me. Very much diluted, it has to be admitted, since the Temple bit derives from my mother, and I’m afraid the female line carries rather less clout – deeply unjust as that may be.’ He twinkled at her, conveying his awareness of latter-day sensitivities on gender issues. ‘So – the old girl’s away, isshe? That’s a disappointment.’ And it did look as if he was at a loss as a result. ‘I always like a chat with Polly. Sets me up for weeks, it does.’
    ‘She’s not back until the very end of the month.’ She bit back further information with an effort. Discretion did not come easily to her, but she had learnt a certain caution over the past year. Already there was something about the man that raised a wriggle of alarm in her insides. His manner was old-fashioned, languidly careless, but not genuinely relaxed.
    ‘Oh dear. Well, I should go then. Hot, isn’t it,’ he added irrelevantly.
    ‘Yes,’ agreed Thea. ‘Oh – would you like a drink? My friend’s here – do you want to come and meet him?’
    ‘How kind. But no, I’ve taken up too much of your afternoon as it is. It was lovely to meet you. And your dear little dog.’ He made an odd little quirk with his mouth. ‘Pity about the tail, though,’ he added. ‘Makes her look a very peculiar shape.’
    Thea had had this conversation a score of times since she’d acquired a cocker with an undocked tail. Country people in particular thought it an outrage. ‘I like it,’ was all she said.
    She watched him turn his low-slung car and retreat up the track, before returning to Phil. ‘Rupert Temple-Pritchett,’ she said. ‘How’s that for a name?’
    ‘Impressive. What did you mean by asking him to stay for a drink?’
    ‘Common courtesy. Did you hear the whole thing?’
    ‘More or less. What was that word – the thing he said he was? Not a Zionist, surely?’
    ‘A scion. He said he’s a scion – how about that?’
    Phil shrugged. ‘He’s welcome, whatever it is.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘What should we do now, do you think?’
    ‘Why do we have to do anything? I’m all right here for ages yet. We can see without even getting up that the horses are fine, and the snake doesn’t need feeding again until Tuesday. This is a sinecure, compared to the other places I’ve had to look after.’
    Phil sighed and slumped back in the garden chair. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘Of course.’
    They drifted through to nine