A quick check of the time told her it was two-fifteen. Concerned, she slipped out of bed and ran across to the window seat just in time to see a pair of headlights clip the corner of the coach house and disappear from view. It had to be Chas. On his way back to London, choosing to drive through the night rather than face her in the morning. It was her own fault, she thought. They were supposed to be friends, but she had flung accusations and locked herself in her room, not giving him even a moment to explain. But was there really an explanation, beyond the obvious? Her heart sank. She was alone in the house, the granddaughter of a housemaid and a groom sleeping in a bedroom not unlike one her Gran might have cleaned. Crawling back into bed, Sam drew the covers over her head, but that didn’t stop her mind whirling through the possibilities that had plagued her since she had opened the cabinet to see Chas’ silver collection.
