Page 105 of Ruby Red (The Ruby Red Trilogy 1)

“I was seventeen and easily impressed,” she said.

“I get the idea,” I told her, grinning. “Those are amazing eyes, right?”

Mum grinned back as we sauntered deliberately slowly toward the gate. “Oh, yes. Paul’s eyes were just the same. But unlike his big brother, he wasn’t at all condescending. No wonder Lucy fell in love with him.…”

“I’d love to know what happened to them both.”

“Sooner or later I’m afraid you will.”

“Give me the key,” said Falk de Villiers impatiently. Mum handed him the key to the door through the wrought-iron pattern, and he unlocked it. “I sent for a car for you.”

“We’ll meet at breakfast tomorrow morning, Gwyneth,” said Lady Arista, putting a hand under my chin. “Chin up! You’re a Montrose, and we stay calm and composed everywhere, always.”

“I’ll try, Grandmother.”

“That’s right. Oh, dear!” She waved her arms about as if shooing flies. “What do those people think they’re doing? I’m not the Queen!” But with her elegant hat, her umbrella, and the coat, all color-matched, she obviously looked so British to the tourists that they were taking photos of her from all sides.

Mum gave me a last hug. “The secret has already cost human lives,” she whispered into my ear. “Don’t forget that.”

I watched her and my grandmother with mixed feelings until the car had turned the corner, carrying them away.

Mr. George took my hand and held it firmly. “Don’t be frightened, Gwyneth. You’re not alone.”

He wasn’t kidding. I was surrounded by loads of people I wasn’t supposed to trust. I mustn’t trust any of them, my mum had said. I looked into Mr. George’s friendly blue eyes and searched them for something dangerous and dishonest. But I couldn’t see anything of the kind.

Trust no one.

Not even your own feelings.

“Come along, we’d better go in. You must get some food inside you.”

“I hope that little conversation with your mother was illuminating,” said Mr. de Villiers on the way upstairs. “Let me guess: she warned you against us. We’re all unscrupulous liars, am I right?”

“You’ll know more about that than I do,” I said. “We were talking about how you and my mother once had something going on together.”

Mr. de Villiers raised his eyebrows in surprise. “She told you that?” There was actually a touch of embarrassment in his expression. “Ah, well, that’s a long time ago. I was young and—”

“And easily impressed.” I finished the sentence for him. “That’s what my mum said too.”

Mr. George roared with laughter. “Oh, yes, that’s right! I’d quite forgotten. You and Grace Montrose, you made a handsome couple, Falk. If only for three weeks. Then she plastered a slice of cheesecake over your shirtfront at that charity ball in Holland House and said she never wanted to say another word to you.”

“It was a strawberry tart,” said Mr. de Villiers, with a twinkle in his eye. “She really meant to throw it in my face, but I was lucky and she only hit my shirt. The stain never came out. She was jealous of a girl whose name I can’t even remember.”

“Larissa Crofts. She was the chancellor of the exchequer’s daughter,” said Mr. George.

“Really?” Mr. de Villiers seemed genuinely surprised. “The chancellor now or the chancellor then?”

“Then.”

“Was she pretty?”

“Reasonably pretty.”

“Well, anyway, Grace broke my heart, because after that she started going out with another boy from my school. I remember his name all right.”

“Yes, because you broke his nose and his parents nearly sued you for it,” said Mr. George.

“Is that true?” I was absolutely fascinated.

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