Diane Vorsack was a disaster waiting for a place to happen, with a heartily established dislike for the Beck clan. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. She looked at her flattened belly. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. “I should really like to find somewhere to stay, if it was only for a few nights. ‘It is what my father intended.
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