The English Lord's Secret Son by Margaret Way

Achilles heel. Meeting the boy might deliver a judgment. Apparently she kept him well hidden. Hugh Saunders hadn’t met the boy either. But he knew where she lived. The big mystery was how had the boy’s father opted out so easily? Either he had placed little value on being the father of a child, or Catrina hadn’t told him.
    Simply used him.
    It happened. Women were getting better and better at using men.
    * * *
    They sat down on the loggia to a light, delicious lunch served by Lady McCready’s housekeeper, Mary, a pleasant, capable woman clearly devoted to her mistress. The loggia with its series of archways faced a cerulean infinity-edged pool. Beyond that, breathtaking views of the Coral Sea. There were comfortable white furnishings set back from the pool, the tables, couches and chairs protected from the dazzling sun by large blue, white fringed umbrellas. Huge terracotta planters framed either side of the arches, filled with blossoming hibiscus in a range of brilliant colours. The house presented the classic Mediterranean style of architecture he was long familiar with.
    Over lunch Lady McCready didn’t bother him with personal questions. He had asked to speak to her privately regarding possible negotiations. If she was surprised she had hidden it well. Davey would take Catrina on a tour of the gardens while they talked. Catrina, however, was allowed to take him on a tour of what was the large house.
    “I’m not as spry as I once was,” Lady McCready said with a laugh and a little wave of her beringed hand. Indeed the regal little lady dressed in a gorgeous kaftan looked quite frail, though the years had dealt kindly with her. “I’ll wait here for you.”
    Immediately they were out of earshot and Cate went on the attack. “So you cut me out of the negotiations? That wasn’t the plan.”
    “Plans change,” he said briefly, moving ahead of her. “I really don’t need you to make a business pitch. I would have thought that it was obvious I can handle it myself. Lady McCready and I won’t have a problem dealing with each other on what I’m sure is a seven-figure deal. It’s a truly beautiful home they’ve created here, but I haven’t yet decided whether it’s irresistible to me. It’s clear no expense has been spared. Isla Bella is much more than a hideaway. More like an Italianate villa. It must have taken a long time to complete the project?” He suddenly turned to her, caught her out staring at him.
    “Five years, I believe.” She knew she gave a betraying flush. “They commissioned an Italian architect. Lady McCready loves all things Italian. She was responsible for creating their island home. Surely you can tell me what you think so far?”
    He gave an elegant shrug. “The house in the Bahamas is British West Indies style. It’s lighter, more airy, minimalistic when compared with this. I suppose this could be called a grand house. It’s lavishly decorated. Some might find it overwhelming. Changes would have to be made.”
    “Many VIPs have stayed here as guests,” she pointed out stiffly, thinking he now had reservations. It wasn’t what he wanted? Good. “The McCreadys were known for their lavish hospitality. Three prime ministers have stayed here. But then you would have VIP guests of your own. Who knows, even royalty might stay a day or two?”
    “Okay, you can show me upstairs now.” He ignored her last comment. They had seen the major rooms of the first floor. He had declined entering the housekeeper’s domain, the kitchen, which Cate knew had been brought up to state of the art. Perhaps he simply wasn’t interested in how kitchens worked.
    They walked back into the hallway with its intricately patterned flooring featuring three types of Italian stone before taking the black wrought-iron curving staircase to the upper floor.
    “Six double bedrooms all with en suites.” She spoke exactly like a Realtor showing a client over a high-end property. “How many family members have