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Heart racing, she turned in the opposite direction and fled for the safety of the ladies’. Locking herself in the far end cubicle, Jess pushed the seat lid down and sank onto it, knees wobbling. Though he’d been smiling, there’d been no mistaking the promise in Tristan’s eyes as they’d parted on the dance floor. He wanted to kiss her! A little giggle escaped her mouth and she clamped her hand over it. What if someone walked in and caught her laughing to herself?
What if they saw Tristan kissing her? This was her first proper job. Getting mixed up in an office romance might ruin her chances of being taken seriously. But, it was Tristan – the man who made her stomach do somersaults, and her heart race a mile a minute. The man who went out of his way to do nice things for her, for reasons other than his general decency perhaps? The man who would be certain to beat her to the permanent position if she did anything to diminish her reputation in the eyes of their superiors.
She might have sat there for another hour mooning over what could never be, had her bladder not decided to remind her quite forcefully just how much she had drunk in the past couple of hours. With a sigh, Jess stood and began the inelegant task of wriggling down her tights and underwear, almost groaning with relief as her stomach was released from the tight confines of her elasticated pants. She was in the process of struggling back into them when the external bathroom door banged open and she caught the tail end of a conversation.
‘… even more gorgeous than usual in a tux.’ Jess recognised the speaker as Michelle, one of the two company receptionists. She froze, not wanting the woman to know she was there. Though she’d never been overtly rude to Jess, there was an undercurrent to the way she treated her, as though she resented being asked to do things by the new girl – even when they were part of her job description and she never seemed to have a problem when anyone else asked her to make a drink for a visitor or to book a courier.
‘I know, right? Tristan’s so hot, he puts James Bond to shame.’ The second voice belonged to Nicola, the other half of the formidable duo who handled everything from dealing with visitors, to answering the phones and sorting the post without so much as a chipped nail or a single hair out of place. Jess had never seen either of them ever looking anything other than perfectly made-up and turned out. ‘I’m going to ask him to dance when we go back in,’ Nicola continued, her voice distorted in a way that told Jess she was applying lipstick as she talked.
‘Good luck with that,’ snorted Michelle. ‘You’ll have a fight on your hands the way Shrek has been hogging his attention all night. God, did you see the way she was hanging off his neck on the dance floor just now? I felt embarrassed for him.’
Jess found herself frozen in place, hunched over, her tights still halfway up her thighs. The bitchy edge to Michelle’s voice was harder and meaner than anything she’d heard from her before. And – God – had she really just likened Jess to the ugly ogre cartoon character? She clutched at the wall for support as she listened, the pair of them oblivious to her presence.
‘Everyone knows Jess has had a crush on him forever.’ Nicola said. ‘But tonight it’s downright embarrassing the way she’s traipsing after him like a dog with its tongue hanging out. As if he’d look twice at a fat lump like her.’
‘More like a bitch in heat.’ Michelle cackled. ‘And you’re right. How can she possibly think a man like him would fancy someone like her? That’s the trouble when you’re as nice as he is, I suppose – some people get the wrong message. Let’s go and find him and let him know we’ll run interference for the rest of the night. Give the poor guy a chance to enjoy himself without Shrek stomping on his toes.’ The pair’s laughter faded as the door closed behind them.
Shocked and humiliated, Jess tried to focus on the task of pulling up her tights, and not on the burn at the back of her eyes. How was it possible people knew she fancied Tristan when she’d gone out of her way to keep it to herself? Perhaps she wasn’t as discreet as she’d believed and the whole office was laughing at her behind her back. Horrified at the thought, Jess yanked at the thin nylon of her tights, manging to rip a big hole in the left thigh which immediately zoomed down to her ankle in a ladder. ‘Damn it!’
Vision swimming with tears, Jess kicked off her heels and yanked off the ruined tights. The pale, mottled skin of her legs looked shockingly white in the harsh overhead lighting. Now what was she going to do? She couldn’t go back out there flashing her dead-fish coloured legs, for God’s sake! Despair gave way to hope as she recalled the baskets of supplies on the counter tops. Leaving her heels on the floor of the cubicle, she padded barefoot across the thickly piled carpet and began to rummage. She came up with two pairs of tights, both of them size small. In desperation more than hope, she took one pair back into the cubicle but couldn’t get them much more than over her knees before the fibres stretched so thin and tight she knew it was no good.
Feeling wretchedly sorry for herself, Jess tried to push her naked toes into the narrow confines of her heels. Her feet had swollen after so many hours in the unfamiliar shoes, and that combined with the lack of any barrier between her bare skin and the leather made it almost impossible to get them back on. A couple of steps was all it took for her to know she’d rub a blister if she tried to wear them like that. Why was everything going wrong for her, tonight of all nights? A hot tear coursed over her cheek, and Jess stumbled over to the mirror to grab at a handful of tissues. No amount of deep breathing, cheek pressing, and dabbing could stem the trickles. She wasn’t exactly crying, but her eyes wouldn’t stop leaking and the salt of her tears made her contacts start to itch.
Between rapid blinks, she managed to get the right one out, only to drop it. Its slide down the plug hole was the last straw. ‘Sod it.’ Removing the other one, Jess flicked it into the sink and turned on the tap to flush it after its mate. Her ruined tights were balled up and chucked into the waste basket, the hated heels pried off and shoved into her backpack along with her evening bag. Retrieving her glasses, Jess popped them on and met her gaze in the mirror. A sense of calm descended as she reached up to tug and pull at the myriad pins holding her up-do in place. Curls tumbled around her shoulders only to be gathered up in one of the spare scrunchies she kept in the front pocket of her rucksack.
Securing her hair in a rough ponytail at her nape, Jess then pulled out a knitted bobble hat and tugged it down over her ears. Coat on and zipped to the neck, feet and calves snug in her furry boots, she cast one last glance in the mirror as she slung her backpack over her shoulder. She should’ve stayed at home tonight. It was clear she didn’t fit in here, and the idea of spending another second around people who thought so little of her they made up cruel nicknames behind her back was more than she could stomach. It turned out she wasn’t a blue velvet dress kind of girl, after all. And, she thought as she reached for the door handle, that was just fine with her.
Thanks to a points failure, it took Jess ages to get home and by the time she slotted her key into the front door all she wanted was to crawl into her pyjamas and curl up in bed with a mug of hot chocolate. Before she could turn the key, the door was yanked open and she was confronted with the sight of Steve, her brother’s best friend, red-eyed, his face an agonised mask. ‘Oh, Jess,’ he said, dragging her into his arms. ‘He’s gone. Marcus is gone.’
No. No, no, no, no, no. It couldn’t be, he couldn’t be, not her darling big brother. After everything they’d been through with him the past couple of years. The endless worry, the thousands of pounds her parents had spent on rehab. A scream echoed down the stairs, inhumane, animalistic, a sound no human throat should be capable of making. As the waves of grief smashed into her, Jess clung to Steve, his strong arms the only thing that kept her from being swept away.
Chapter 1 (#ue5f0d153-b95e-5211-b492-8756822eedce)
Present Day – the first week of September
Charlie Tanner, Tristan’s boss since he’d left university and the cofounder of a very successful events and PR firm he’d set up with his business – and life – partner Tim Beaman, took a sip of the wine poured by the waiter. Though Tristan had invited him to lunch and was footing the bill, he had left it to the older man to select the wine. Already feeling nervous about the news he was going to deliver, he could only hope the sop of a decent vintage would go some way to ease the news he was pretty sure Charlie wasn’t going to want to hear. Charlie raised his glass towards the light spilling in from the window, turned his glass a couple of times as he studied the ruby-red hue of the liquid in his glass before finally giving the waiter a nod. With the ritual of the wine selection over, he turned his hawk-like gaze to Tristan. ‘So, when are you coming back to us?’
Okay, so they were cutting straight to the chase. Tristan smiled his thanks at the waiter then reached for his own glass, more to give himself time to word the answer than any real desire for a drink. Both Charlie and Tim had been incredibly understanding when Tristan had taken a twelve-month unpaid sabbatical in order to return home to help his brother, Arthur, and sister, Igraine, manage their ancestral home following their father’s death the previous autumn. Though he’d been happy to do everything he could to support Arthur, Tristan was grateful that being the youngest of the triplets meant the family title and all its burdens and responsibilities had not fallen on his shoulders.
During the bleak winter months when it’d seemed to do nothing but either rain, snow or some hideous combination of the two, Tristan had missed his busy life in London. Once the bluebells that had given the family castle its pretty nickname had started blooming and the hard work the three of them had invested started to pay off however, Tristan had found his thoughts straying less and less to the smart apartment he rented in Battersea and his job as a marketing executive in the city. ‘Yes, well that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,’ he said to Charlie with an apologetic wince.
‘Oh, balls. Don’t tell me we’re going to be losing both of you? When you invited me to lunch, I assumed you wanted to get up to speed on our current projects in preparation for your return.’ Charlie cast him a gloomy look then took a large swig of the rather fine burgundy. ‘Well, you know what they say about assuming things …’
It cut Tristan deeper than he’d expected to be letting the man opposite him down. Charlie had been an inspiration to him from the first day he’d started working at the events management and public relations firm. Both Charlie and Tim, chose to encourage rather than control their staff, giving them room to take chances as long as any failures were learning experiences.
Feeling wretched, Tristan braced his forearms on the edge of the table and met the older man’s gaze. ‘I’m really sorry. I should have given you a warning, I suppose, but I wanted to talk to you face to face and explain. After everything you’ve done for me, it seemed rude to put it in an email.’ Twisting his glass between his fingers, he studied the rich wine as though he could find the answers he owed his boss in its opaque surface. ‘If I’d thought for one moment I would find myself in this position then I would have resigned outright rather than requesting a sabbatical.’ He glanced up to find Charlie studying him over the steepled tips of his fingers.
‘What changed?’ There was no censure in this question, only genuine curiosity.
‘I fell in love.’ When Charlie quirked a brow, he laughed. ‘Not like that. As a second son, I always knew there was never any future for me at the castle and somewhere along the way my brain translated that into believing that I didn’t want there to be a future for me there. I told myself I was city boy, that life in the country was too slow-paced for me. And then somewhere along the line I found myself standing on the edge of our land looking out over the dales and I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.’
‘If that’s the case, then you can go with my blessing.’ Raising his glass in a silent toast, Charlie took another drink.
Relief flooded Tristan and he returned the gesture in tribute to everything the man opposite had done for him. As his worry over letting Charlie down began to dissipate, something else his boss had said earlier finally filtered through his awareness. ‘Hold up. What do you mean losing both of us? Who else is leaving?’
Setting down his glass, Charlie sat back in his seat with a sigh. ‘Jessica turned her notice in last month. Did you not know?’
Tristan swallowed. Cocooned in the microcosm of life behind the thick curtain wall of the castle, he’d been a bit lax in keeping in touch with his friends and co-workers. Several unread emails rested in his inbox. Fearing they would be asking him about his planned return, and not sure how to answer them, he’d stuck his head in the sand and ignored them.
‘Well, anyway,’ Charlie said after giving him a quizzical glance. ‘It’s her last day today. We’re having drinks in The Crown and Sceptre later; you should come along. I’m sure everyone would be delighted to see you.’
Everyone apart from Jessica. They’d been great friends until he’d cocked it all up by coming on too strong at a work’s party. So desperate had she been to avoid his crass advances she’d done a runner, then hardly said two words to him on their return to work in the new year. Several years later, it was still a source of embarrassment that he’d managed to read what he’d thought was a mutual attraction so wrong. The fact she’d married some bloke she’d practically grown up with less than twelve months later had told him exactly how mistaken he’d been about the whole scenario.
Even with her own wedding to plan, Jess had still beaten him hands down to the permanent position on the events team they’d both been interning for. Her work ethic had been formidable, even back then. Luckily for Tristan an opening had come up in the corporate affairs side of the business and he’d been able to transfer across. Things had soon settled down between them, and whenever they’d been called upon to work together on a big project it’d been fine. Oh, he still felt a pull towards her whenever she removed her glasses and stared at him, but married women were off limits. No matter how sweet and sexy they were. They’d never quite recovered that close bond forged during their first week as baby interns, both fresh from university and clueless about the real world, though, much to his chagrin.
‘Maybe I’ll drop in for a quick drink,’ he said, having zero intention of doing so. It wouldn’t be fair on Jess to appear out of the blue and steal any of her thunder. ‘Which of your rivals has been lucky enough to poach her?’ Their corporate world was a small one, and staff interchanged across the major firms with some regularity as they zig-zagged their way along career paths all headed in one direction. It was testament to both Charlie and Tim how few of their employees jumped ship for other opportunities. Someone must’ve made Jess one hell of a sweet offer.
‘That’s the absolute worst thing about the whole bloody business – she’s not moving to a new role, she’s quitting.’ Charlie shook his head then took another mouthful of wine.
His revelation stunned Tristan. ‘But why?’
The waiter chose that moment to return to the table, interrupting their conversation as they each selected something from the lighter lunch menu before throwing all their good intentions down the drain by adding a portion of chips to share.
‘Carbs will always be my downfall.’ As though to underline his point, Charlie reached for a piece of bread from the basket between them and began to slather it with butter. ‘What were we saying? Ah, yes, poor Jessica.’ As though intent on torturing Tristan, he took a large bite out of the bread and proceeded to chew it slowly.
Poor Jessica. What the hell did that mean? Tamping down his need to demand answers, Tristan conjured every possibility. Perhaps her husband was changing his job and they were moving away. She already had a couple of kids, was she pregnant again and had decided to take a career break? Neither of those seemed likely to elicit the sympathy he’d detected in Charlie’s tone. Was she ill? Oh God, what if one of the kids was ill? The piece of bread he’d taken was now many crumbs on his side plate, shredded into pieces as he pondered ever more outlandish scenarios.
‘Now, normally I wouldn’t say anything, but she’s been very open about things around the office, so I don’t feel I’d be betraying a confidence if I tell you that she and Steve are getting a divorce.’ Charlie shook his head, expression sad. ‘No one else involved,’ he continued, answering Tristan’s unspoken assumption. ‘Just one of those things, apparently, and they’re still very good friends. With him moving out and giving up his job to go back to university, she can’t afford the rent on her own so she’s moving back in with her parents until she can get things straight. They retired to Surrey, or Sussex, or perhaps it was Somerset. One of the esses.’ He dismissed them all with a wave of his hand, the look on his face saying they were all as bad as each other as far as Charlie was concerned. ‘But, enough about that, tell me what’s been going on with you.’
As they shared their meal, Tristan outlined the goings-on at Bluebell Castle, most significantly the discovery by Arthur’s now-wife, Lucie, of a long-lost painting which was going a long way to righting the family’s fortunes. ‘I saw something about that in the paper,’ Charlie said. ‘Hidden under the floorboards or something, wasn’t it?’
Tristan laughed. ‘Walled up in a hidden passageway, actually. There’s a heart-breaking story attached to its creation. One of our ancestors commissioned the piece to commemorate his engagement and his fiancée did a moonlight flit with the artist. I’ve been working with my sister-in-law on the copy for the information boards to support an exhibition in the castle about it. We’re hoping to add some of our other ancestors to it as time goes on, bit of a potted history of the Ludworths, you know the kind of thing?’
Charlie nodded. ‘You’re opening things up to the public then?’
‘Yes. My sister, Iggy, did an amazing job with restoring the grounds, and the summer fete was a huge success. We’d like to open a few parts of the castle as well to ensure we’ve got an all-seasons attraction. That’s where I come into the mix – I’m organising some top-end boutique holiday packages. A chance to experience a traditional Christmas in a real castle. I put a teaser up on the castle’s blog the other week just to see if there was any interest and I’ve had dozens of enquiries. I’d also like to do something with the grounds, create a Winter Wonderland experience.’
‘Hopefully it won’t end up like one of those disasters that seem to crop up on the news every year.’ Charlie observed, dryly.
‘Tell me about it,’ Tristan agreed, fervently. He’d come across some absolute horror stories during his research into it over the summer. ‘Thankfully, I’ve got my own crack team of garden designers on call in my sister and her other half, Will Talbot.’
Charlie raised an eyebrow. ‘Not that Will Talbot?’
Prior to meeting Iggy, Will had been something of a tabloid celebrity renowned for his wild ways. Happily settled, there was little about him now to hint at that bad boy image, other than a rather arresting scar on his face and a penchant for leather jackets and jeans.
Tristan grinned. It seemed like even someone as urbane and sophisticated as Charlie wasn’t immune to a little stardust. ‘The very same. They’re based here in town now for the most part which is one of the reasons I came to London. They’ve been working on design ideas, and we’re sitting down this afternoon to make a final decision.’
‘Cutting it fine, aren’t you? It’s September already.’ Charlie followed his comment with a chuckle. ‘But then that always was your style.’
‘Hey,’ Tristan protested, though he was laughing at the same time. ‘I met most of my deadlines.’ True, he’d pulled more than a few all-nighters to get the job done, but he’d always delivered when it mattered.
‘Well, I hope you’ve got someone who’ll keep you in line.’ When Tristan remained silent, Charlie gave him a speaking look. ‘I quite fancied the sound of your traditional Christmas in a castle. After the year we’ve had, Tim and I could do with a bit of luxury pampering, but maybe we’ll wait until next year …’
‘You don’t think I can pull it off.’ Tristan couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice.
Leaning forward, Charlie patted the back of his hand in a purely paternal gesture. ‘I’m sure you can pull it off, but perhaps it’s time for you to do more than that. Christmas is a special time for a lot of people. Last-minute scrambles to get things done shouldn’t be a part of that.’ Sitting back, he finished the wine in his glass. ‘Look, Tristan, you know I adore you – both Tim and I would cut off our right arms if we thought for a moment we could lure you back into the fold – but you’ve never been one to sweat the small stuff. When you are part of a team, you’re unstoppable, and we gave you the structure you needed to succeed. But even you have to admit you’re not always on top of all the details.’
Tristan opened his mouth to argue then recalled the unread emails in his inbox. He was very good at focusing on the stuff that interested him, the rest of it … ‘So, what do you suggest?’
‘Get yourself a decent assistant, someone to compliment your enthusiasm with a dash of ruthless practicality.’ Charlie offered him a kindly smile. ‘Don’t look so worried, I’m sure it will be a great success, but this is the first time you’ve struck out on your own and sometimes it takes a friend to point out our potential weaknesses.’
A friend. Yes, that’s what Charlie was, and a mentor too. ‘Thank you. And if you’re serious about you and Tim coming up for Christmas, I’ll be happy to do you a special deal.’
Charlie waved him off, but Tristan could see it had pleased him that Tristan was willing to not only listen to his advice, but take it in the spirit in which it was meant. ‘Nonsense. Mates rates are the death of far too many ventures. We’ll be happy to pay full price. Do we get a proper four-poster bed?’
‘We’ve still got a couple of old horsehair mattresses if you want that authentic experience. Or I could throw some rushes down in front of the fireplace in the great hall and you can bed down with the dogs for warmth.’ The image of Charlie, a walking Savile Row catalogue, being descended upon by the castle’s collection of unruly hounds brought a wicked grin to Tristan’s face. A mixed bag, most from local shelters or given up by people who had taken on more than they could handle, the castle pack were a sweet, harmless bunch but could be a little overwhelming to someone not used to them. ‘I did tell you about the dogs?’
‘Stop trying to put me off, it won’t work. Tim told me the other day I’m getting a bit paunchy.’ Charlie touched a hand to the slight roundness of his stomach well disguised by the impeccable cut of his jacket. ‘I can already picture myself striding around the Derbyshire countryside with a whippet at my heels.’ He frowned, thoughtfully. ‘That’s what you North-country types have isn’t it?’
‘Either that or a ferret stuffed down our trousers, yes,’ Tristan responded with a wry grin. ‘If you want to walk the dogs every day, Arthur will probably love you forever.’ He paused to signal to the waiter that they were ready for coffee. ‘Seriously though, the castle is set right on the edge of the dales so there’s no shortage of walking to be done – weather permitting, of course. And the estate has its own woods and plenty of parkland. There’s also stables if you ride …’
Charlie pulled a face. ‘I can’t see myself on the back of a horse, but the idea of getting out of town and away from the endless round of parties is very appealing. We’ll have to talk Tim around to the idea, but you can do that later when you join us in the pub for drinks.’
Damn, now how was he going to duck out of it without causing offence? ‘I’m not sure if I’ll have time, what with seeing Iggy and Will this afternoon.’ Probably best not to mention he was staying in their spare room during his visit, or that he wasn’t going back home until the day after tomorrow.
‘Nonsense. You have to come. Now you’re leaving us in the lurch, it’s the least you can do.’ It was said with a smile, but there was no getting around Charlie’s disappointment at his continued attempts to evade the celebration.
‘The party is for Jess, I don’t want to crash in at the last minute.’ Tristan tried one last time to get out of it.
‘Rubbish. She won’t mind, she’ll probably be relieved. You know how she is when there’s too much fuss. Hold on a minute.’ Before Tristan could say anything, Charlie whipped out his phone and made a call. ‘Jessica? Charlie, here. What? Yes, everything is fine with the Centrifuge account, and besides, it’s not your problem anymore, is it?’
Tristan listened as Charlie laughed. ‘Okay, Little Miss Conscientious, in three and a half hours it won’t be your problem anymore. Look, I’m with Tristan, and he’s decided to quit on me as well. I told him he should come for drinks tonight, but he’s being stubborn. Have a word, will you?’ With that he thrust his phone across the table, leaving Tristan no choice but to pick it up.
‘Hi, Jess.’
‘Hello, stranger.’ The phone emphasised the natural huskiness of her voice, and he could instantly picture her, long dark hair wrapped up in one of those practical knots his fingers always itched to undo, a little crease of concentration furrowing her brow as her hands flew across her keyboard. ‘Causing trouble, as usual?’
He laughed. ‘You know me too well.’ But not half as well as he might wish. ‘I’m staying in Derbyshire for the foreseeable future, and Charlie has decided he’s never going to forgive me.’
‘I’m not,’ Charlie bellowed loud enough to be heard. ‘And the same goes for you too, Jessica. Pair of traitors.’
‘Here we go again,’ Jess muttered, giving Tristan the impression Charlie had put a lot more pressure on her about leaving than he had received. It didn’t do much for his ego, but it would be churlish to feel any resentment. Her tone brightened. ‘Well at least if you’re leaving, too, that takes some of the heat off me.’
‘Cheers,’ Tristan said, wryly. ‘Thanks a bunch. Listen, Charlie wants me to come along to your leaving drinks tonight, but I don’t want to crash your party.’
‘Oh God, crash it, please crash it!’ she begged. ‘I told them I didn’t want to do anything, but you know what they’re like.’
‘Any excuse for a party.’ It was the company’s unofficial motto, and, after all, the way they made most of their business.
‘Exactly! Please, say you’ll come.’ She was quiet for a long moment. ‘It’d be nice to see you again.’
Well, hell, how on earth was he going to refuse now? ‘It’ll be nice to see you too.’
What was he going to wear tonight? He hadn’t packed much, having only planned to be away for a couple of days. He’d worn a suit for lunch with Charlie, but that would be a bit over the top for the pub given he wasn’t coming from the office. They were only going to the pub, surely a shirt and jeans would suffice? And why was he bothered about it anyway?
‘Hello? Earth to Tristan.’ Iggy snapped her fingers a bare inch from his nose, making Tristan flinch back in surprise.
‘Hey, stop that.’ He batted her hand away.
‘Well, if you’d stop daydreaming for five minutes, I wouldn’t have to.’ His sister slouched back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. ‘It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do other than give up our time to help you out.’
Tristan didn’t know what the hell had got into her, but Iggy had been in a foul mood from the moment he’d returned to the apartment she shared with Will. They’d gathered around the big island in the kitchen that doubled as a table to discuss how to transform the castle grounds into something spectacular, but she’d done nothing but snipe and snap at him since they’d sat down.’
Will leaned over from his seat to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. ‘Leave your poor brother alone, he’s not going to ruin your garden.’
Iggy scowled at Will, but there was no mistaking the way her body language softened when he tucked his hand under her hair to stroke a light caress. ‘He can’t even pay attention long enough to listen to what we have to say about it, how can I trust him?’
Now he understood what was at the heart of her mood, Tristan had nothing but sympathy for his sister’s position. She loved Bluebell Castle – probably more than he and Arthur did combined – and she’d surprised them all by her decision to move away. It was clear to anyone she adored Will, and he her, and his horticultural business was based in London so the move made sense. They were working to diversify the brand, to leave the refurbishment projects which had been the bread and butter of the business in the hands of their experienced installation team so Will and Iggy could focus on their new passion for bringing gardening to schools and deprived inner city areas, and Tristan understood how important it was for his sister to strive to build a life away from their childhood home. Not because she didn’t love it there, but because she’d been the de facto mistress of the castle for several years and she was determined to surrender that role to Lucie. But the gardens were her baby, and Tristan needed her to know that he understood that, that he would honour all the hard work she had put into them and preserve her legacy.
Pulling his chair close on her other side, he slung an affectionate arm around her waist. ‘I won’t screw this up, Iggle-Piggle, I swear.’
Though his use of her hated nickname earned him a punch in the arm, it was immediately followed by a swift, hard hug. ‘I know, it’s just …’
‘I know.’ Tristan gave her a squeeze before shuffling his chair back. ‘When it comes to the grounds, you’re still the boss. Consider me your on-site eyes and ears, but I won’t do anything that the three of us haven’t agreed in advance.’
‘And we’ll go up for as many weekends as we can spare. And a whole week at half-term,’ Will assured her.
‘That’s a lot of unnecessary miles,’ Iggy protested. ‘When I’m just being precious about it.’
‘Bollocks to that,’ Will retorted, before digging in his pocket with a sigh and dropping a pound coin into a jar on the table. ‘I can’t believe that meddling assistant of mine talked you into having a swear jar at home as well as in the office. A man should be able to eff and blind in the peace of his own bloody kitchen.’
Giving him an evil grin, Iggy tapped the side of the jar with her finger until he fished out a fifty-pence piece and flipped it in after the pound. ‘She showed me a brochure for that luxury spa she visited last month on the back of your dirty mouth,’ she said.
Will leaned forward to steal a kiss. ‘I thought you liked my dirty mouth.’
‘Okay, okay, time out.’ Tristan waved his arms to draw their attention away from each other. As happy as he was that his siblings had both found love, it was bad enough watching his brother moon after Lucie every day at home without being subjected to these two and their public displays of affection. ‘Can we get back to the matter at hand?’
Chapter 2 (#ulink_90c1a49a-6446-51c6-b443-886d68f7d47e)
The door of the pub swung open and Jess cursed herself not only for her Pavlovian response to it, but the little dip of disappointment she felt when once again it wasn’t Tristan who walked through it. She checked her watch surreptitiously, giving a weak smile as a gale of laughter went around the table to some comment she’d missed.
‘Here, get this down your neck!’ A large glass of rosé was thrust in her face.
‘Thanks.’ Accepting the drink, she set it down untasted beside the half-full one she’d been nursing for a while. Apart from the odd bottle at the weekend when she was curled up in her pyjamas after the boys were asleep, she was grossly out of practice. From the ever-increasing volume of her friends and colleagues, they were having no such problem sticking with the pace.
‘Everything all right, Jess?’ Tim was watching her with a frown of concern, making her feel guilty. He and Charlie had put a lot of money behind the bar, she needed to buck up and a least make an effort to have a good time.
‘I’m fine, just not used to being away from the boys.’ Sitting up straighter, she reached for the fresh glass of wine and took a sip. It wasn’t bad at all for a house wine, though not as cold as she preferred it. ‘I could do with some ice.’ She cast a forlorn look towards the bar. Hemmed in as she was along the back row of a group of tables they’d shoved together, there was no chance of her getting out short of getting on her hands and knees and crawling underneath.
