Chapter 51

“St John?”

“Go into the breakfast room, Robert. I’ll be right along.”

On the sideboard was a selection of chaffing dishes, and I hummed happily. The boy could cook. I helped myself to some kippers and eggs and had just sat down to butter a slice of toast when St John entered with a carafe of what smelled like Turkish coffee. Where had he managed to find that? Then I realised he was still in a dressing gown, and I forgot about the coffee.

“Are you feeling quite all right, green eyes?”

“Yes.” St John came to me, his eyes on fire with passion. “I feel…I feel free,” he murmured. “For the first time in…in my entire life, the weight of Father’s disapproval is off my shoulders.”