It was so clear.She shook off her sadness and announced, ", Miranda, let's get David upstairs and see how he likes what you've been working on for him."We left Cook and her assistant, whose name I didn't get, to clean up after us and went back through the hallway to a door I hadn't noticed. Behind it an elevator waited to take us up. The ride to the third floor was slow but a big improvement over trying to walk up three flights in my weakened condition.Miranda was excited to show me the suite of rooms she had been getting ready for me, ever since the family decided to bring me home to recuperate. We hadn't discussed the length of my recuperation, so I had no idea what they intended. To please Reggie, I needed to go along and get along, so I did.The suite was marvelous.Miranda had every reason to be proud of her work, because I sure was. Upon entering I found a wonderful, light and airy sitting room with a view of the west side of the estate. Through the door in front of us was a. I had a good view of her shapely arse and swinging hips, which seemed purposefully swung for my pleasure, which it was.Maddy kicked off her wellies, socks and all; I noticed her toenails were painted an emerald green — it wasn't a Sloanie trait to paint ones toenails, unless on a beach abroad. She opened the door, waving me into the room."This is our reception room. The three of us spend evenings together in here when we are not out, or when entertaining in our own rooms. She pointed to a comfy looking armchair. "Please, — take a seat, Mister Desmond." Des. Please call me Des," I said, nearly disappearing in the cushioned comfort of the chair.She perched on the arm of a sofa. "Gemma said you would probably call in..." Where is she?" I interrupted her, and I saw a glint of annoyance on her face."I do apologise for butting in, Lady Madeline, but I'm rather concerned that I can't reach Gemma, and I'm..." The name is Maddy, Des. Gemma is away working for the BBC, somewhere in the West.
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