Chapter Eight
James leaned back on his elbow and took a slow sip of wine. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken part in an al fresco meal like this, in the company of friends. He contemplated stretching out on the rug and closing his eyes. The sunshine, the food and the wine, the laughter, combined to make him feel more relaxed than he’d been since his brother Edward had died.
He narrowed his eyes against the sun and looked towards the reed-edged lake, where Kate and Miss Penrose stood casting bread to the ducks. Harry, he saw when he glanced sideways, lay sprawled with closed eyes. James nudged him with a booted toe. “A fine host you are, Honeycourt.”
Harry rolled over onto one elbow and opened his eyes, shading them with a hand. He grinned, unoffended. His gaze slid past James
