Читать книгу Hitched! - Jessica Hart - Страница 8

TWO

‘I didn’t even know Kevin Taylor had another daughter,’ said George.

I kept my eyes on the hedgerow brushing past my window. ‘Few people do,’ I said. My voice was perfectly even, the way I had trained it to be when I talked about my father. ‘I’m not sure he even knows himself any more.’

‘How long is it since you’ve seen him?’

‘Six years. I made the mistake of asking if he’d come to my graduation,’ I said. ‘He went to New York on business instead.’

As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I couldn’t think what had possessed me to tell George Challoner of all people about that bitter memory. I tensed, waiting for the sympathetic noises, but he surprised me.

‘I haven’t seen my parents for four years,’ he said, and I slewed round in my seat to look at him in surprise. He was so golden, so effortlessly charming. I couldn’t imagine him falling out with anyone.

‘Why not?’

‘We had an...er...disagreement,’ he said, lifting one hand from the steering wheel and spreading it in an eloquent gesture of resignation. ‘It culminated in one of those never-darken-our-doorstep-again conversations, and so I haven’t.’

‘I know what those are like,’ I said, unprepared to find myself sharing some fellow feeling with George.

‘Fun, aren’t they?’

‘Fabulous,’ I agreed. ‘Can’t get enough of them.’

‘Still, at least you’ve got your sister,’ said George. ‘I did family estrangement as a job lot. I haven’t seen my brother since then either.’ He spoke lightly, but I sensed the pain lurking, and I looked away.

‘Perhaps I should be grateful for Saffron, then,’ I said, keeping my tone light to match his. ‘Although if she upsets Lord Whellerby and anything goes wrong with Hugh’s contract, I will personally strangle her and then I’ll end up without any family either.’

‘Don’t worry about Roly,’ said George reassuringly. ‘He’s really not the grudge-bearing type.’

‘I hope you’re right.’ I gnawed fretfully at my thumbnail.

‘Is your sister really going to marry Jax Jackson?’ George asked to distract me after a moment.

‘Half-sister,’ I said automatically. ‘And so she says. I’m not really sure what it’s all about,’ I confessed, shifting back with a sigh to look out of my window where the hedgerows were a blur of spring green.

‘As far as I can tell Jax was a mediocre pop star until he started dating Saffron and became a celebrity. Now he’s on the cover of all those glossy magazines you get at the checkout in the supermarket. He seems to spend most of his time on tour, but Saffron’s so thrilled by the idea of getting married that he appears to be incidental to the whole process.

‘It’s going to be the wedding of the century, I gather,’ I added with a sigh. Ever since Saffron had announced her engagement, she had been in a frenzy of wedding plans, and if I never heard the word wedding again right then, I’d have been more than happy.

George glanced at me. ‘So are you going to be bridesmaid?’

‘No, thank God. Saffron did ask me, but obviously only because she thought she should, and when I said I didn’t think I’d fit with her other bridesmaids and would rather just be happy for her on the sidelines, she was so relieved it was funny. I really don’t blend with Saffron’s décor,’ I said to George. ‘She’s a socialite and I’m an engineer...you can probably imagine how much we have in common!’

‘I’d certainly never have guessed you were sisters,’ he agreed. ‘You don’t look at all alike.’

‘No, Saffron’s gorgeous,’ I said without rancour. ‘Her mother was a model, and Saffron gets her looks from her, not my father. Saffron’s blonde and bubbly and beautiful, and I’m...not.’

I wasn’t looking at George, but I could feel the blue eyes on my profile. Instinctively, I lifted my chin a little higher to show him that I didn’t care.

‘No one could argue that you were blonde,’ he said. ‘And I’d put you down as prickly rather than bubbly, but otherwise I think you underestimate yourself.’

‘You don’t need to be polite,’ I said, in what he probably thought was a very prickly way. ‘I know I’m not beautiful. I’m not ugly either. I’m just...ordinary. As my father never tired of telling people when I was younger, Saffron got the beauty, and I got the brains.’

‘Ouch.’

‘It’s true.’ I shrugged. ‘Saffron and I are so different it’s almost comical when we’re together, which isn’t very often.’

‘And yet it’s you she rings when she’s upset.’

‘That’s because she doesn’t have a mother. Tiffany ran off with her personal trainer when Saffron was a baby, and she died a couple of years after that. I always felt sorry for Saffron. She was the prettiest little girl, and she’s always been the apple of my father’s eye, but nobody really had any time for her.’

‘So you’re the big sister?’

‘That’s right. I was seven when my father decided a model suited his image better than my mother. Mum didn’t want a divorce, but when Tiffany got pregnant, Dad insisted. His company wasn’t as successful as it is now, so the settlement was fairly modest, and Mum and I had a very ordinary life. We lived in the suburbs and I went to the local school.

‘It was fine,’ I said, pushing away the memory of my mother weeping at night when she thought I couldn’t hear her. It hadn’t been fine for her. ‘But I had to spend two weeks every summer with my father, who was super rich by then and kept getting richer. It was like being dropped into a whole different world. I hated it,’ I said.

I sighed. ‘And then Mum died when I was fifteen.’

‘I’m sorry,’ George said, all traces of his usual lurking smile gone. ‘That must have been hard for you.’

‘It was awful.’ I pressed my lips together in a straight line. Just thinking about that time could still send a wave of desolation crashing over me.

Mum was only thirty-nine when she dropped dead at the sink one day. ‘The doctors said it was an embolism, and that she wouldn’t have felt a thing. I wasn’t there,’ I told George. ‘I was at school, and a neighbour found her. By the time I got home, they had taken Mum away.’

I swallowed hard, remembering how I had stood in the kitchen in dazed disbelief. One minute my mother had been there, the next she wasn’t. Gone, just like that.

There was nothing I could have done, even if I had been there. Everybody said so. But deep down, I always felt as if I should have known. I should have said goodbye and told her I loved her instead of cramming a piece of toast in my mouth and running for the bus. I wish I could remember the last thing I said to her, but I can’t. It was just an ordinary day.

And then it wasn’t.

‘My whole world fell apart.’ I’d almost forgotten that I was talking to George by then.

My nice safe life had vanished the moment that clot blocked my mother’s brain and I was pitched into an existence where nothing seemed certain any more. For months I flailed around in a hopeless search for something to hold onto, until I realised one day that the only thing I could be sure of was myself.

Slowly, carefully, I built a new life, and I made it as secure as I could. Friends sighed and called me a control freak, and maybe I was, but routines and plans at least gave me a structure, one that nobody else could take away from me without warning. Without them, I would have been lost.

‘Presumably you went to live with your father then?’ said George after a moment.

‘If you can call being packed off to boarding school “living” with him,’ I said. ‘At least I had Saffron in the holidays. She’s over seven years younger than me, but neither of us had a mother and she was so desperate for attention that we used to spend a lot of time together then.

‘It was Saffron who painted the eyelashes over Audrey’s headlights,’ I told George.

‘I wondered about that.’

‘She was so pleased with them, I didn’t have the heart to paint them out, and now they’re part of her.’ My smile was probably a little twisted. ‘Saffron’s spoilt, but she’s got a sweet nature and all she wants is a little attention. Unfortunately, this wedding has made her hysterical.’ I sighed, remembering the situation. ‘I just hope Lord Whellerby’s not too angry.’

‘You haven’t met Roly yet, have you? If you had, you’d know you’ve got nothing to worry about,’ said George when I shook my head.

‘Easy for you to say,’ I said tensely. ‘It’s not your sister having hysterics over your most important client!’

* * *

We were bowling up an avenue lined with stately trees. To either side stretched lush parklands, with placid cows grazing under the horse chestnuts. The Land Rover rattled over a cattle grid, the avenue curved round over a hill, and I caught my first sight of Whellerby Hall. I’d been too busy to visit before, and my jaw dropped.

It was an extravaganza of a house, a vast Baroque structure with a domed roof in the centre, and two wings stretching out on either side, set atop a slope on the far side of a serene lake.

George drove right up to the imposing entrance and parked with a crunch of gravel. The door was opened by a cadaverous-looking individual who looked offended by George’s cheerfully casual greeting but unbent enough to explain that Lord Whellerby was in his private sitting room.

‘That’s Simms.’ George led the way up a sweeping marble staircase, past massive oil paintings of naval battles and skimpily clad nymphs. My father’s house was ostentatiously ornate, but still I had to make an effort not to goggle at the sheer size of the Hall. ‘He was old Lord Whellerby’s butler, and Roly inherited him along with the house. Roly’s terrified of him.’

‘I don’t blame him.’

‘You’d get on well with Simms. He always refers to Roly as Lord Whellerby too. He’d really like Roly to be out shooting peasants all day and coming home to sit over his port and cigars.’

‘It’s a strange way to live, isn’t it?’ I said as we climbed another flight of stairs, rather less imposing this time.

‘I know. I feel as if I’m part of a costume drama whenever I come to see Roly. I keep expecting a dowager duchess to pop up and tick me off for seducing the housemaids under the stairs—and no, before you ask,’ he said, turning his head with a smile that did odd things to my breathing. ‘There are no maids. A very efficient cleaning firm comes in once a week, and they’re far too busy to dally with me anywhere.’

‘Disappointing for you,’ I said tartly to cover the fact that my lungs were still not cooperating with the business of inflating and deflating. Perhaps it was all these stairs, I thought hopefully. George was taking them awfully fast. It was hard to believe a single smile could have such an effect.

‘Not at all. I’m fussy about who I dally with,’ said George. ‘I like a challenge,’ he said, turning his head to look straight at me. ‘I like to be intrigued. I like classy girls who don’t need me and maybe don’t even like me. I like to feel that any dallying I do will lead to something really...special.’

I waited for him to smile to show me that he was joking, but he didn’t. He just kept looking into my eyes and for some reason my breathing got all tangled up again.

So, nothing to do with his smile. Must be those stairs after all.

‘Here we are.’ A minute or so later, when we had trekked down a long corridor, and I had given up trying to work out whether or not he had been serious, George flung open a door. ‘Frith to the rescue,’ he announced.

There was a moment of silence in the room, and then both occupants of a sofa leapt to their feet.

I had a professional smile fixed on my face to greet Lord Whellerby, but Saffron gave me no chance to make the fluent apology I had planned. She stumbled across the room to throw herself into my arms. ‘Oh, Frith,’ she wailed. ‘I’m so glad to see you! Everything’s gone so horribly wrong!’

I held her close and patted her back comfortingly, while trying to grimace apologetically over her shoulder at Lord Whellerby, who was hovering anxiously. I could see why George had been amused when I insisted on referring to him as Lord Whellerby. He had a pleasant face, fair skin that clearly flushed as easily as mine, a solid figure that was already growing stout and a hesitant air in marked contrast to George’s easy assurance.

I could feel George watching us, and, although I couldn’t see his face, I knew that his eyes would be dancing. We must have looked ridiculous. Saffron was so much taller than I was, she had to bend right over to bury her head on my shoulder. She was shuddering with little sobs and clearly teetering on the edge of hysterics. That was all I needed.

‘That’s enough, Saffron,’ I said sharply. ‘Stop crying and tell me what you’re doing here.’

My sister is one of those irritating women who can cry prettily. When I held her away from me, tears spangled the end of her beautiful green eyes, and her soft mouth trembled, but under my stern gaze she made an effort to gulp back her tears and bravely knuckled beneath her eyes, being careful, I noted, not to smudge any of her mascara.

Roly—impossible to think of him as anything else now!—hovered nearby, clearly torn between relief that Saffron had stopped crying at last and alarm at my crisp approach.

‘I had to s-see you,’ Saffron hiccupped. ‘Daddy’s in Beijing and there’s no one else.’

‘What’s the matter?’ She really did seem upset, I thought with compunction. Perhaps there was something really wrong. ‘Is it Jax?’

‘No.’ The beautiful face crumpled and Saffron buried her head back on my shoulder. ‘It’s Buffy!’

‘Buffy?’ I echoed blankly. ‘Who’s Buffy?’

‘My bridesmaid! My chief bridesmaid! She’s ruined everything!’

Another outburst of weeping. Roly wrung his hands helplessly, and I began to feel a little frayed at the edges.

‘What on earth has this Buffy done?’

‘She’s getting married!’

George was grinning. He thought this was funny! I glared at him as I mentally counted to ten.

‘OK, look, I’m sure we can sort this out, Saffron,’ I said, keeping my voice calm, ‘but not here. We’ll go back to my cottage, I’ll make you a cup of tea, and it’ll all be fine.’

‘What c-cottage?’ sobbed Saffron.

‘The cottage where I live,’ I said with emphasis, and Saffron lifted her head, momentarily distracted from whatever crisis had been precipitated by the unknown Buffy.

‘I thought you said you were living at Whellerby Hall?’

‘I said I worked on the estate.’ I drew a calming breath. ‘This is Lord Whellerby’s home and we’re intruding.’

‘Oh...really...no problem...’

‘Who’s Lord Whellerby?’ Saffron’s puzzled question broke over Roly’s inarticulate stammer.

For answer, I turned her to face Roly, who shifted from foot to foot and blushed painfully.

‘Oh, you should have told me!’ Saffron gazed at him, her eyes still swimming with tears. ‘You’ve been so sweet to me, too.’

‘Pleasure,’ he muttered, embarrassed. ‘Please, call me Roly...er...I mean...’ He lost himself in a morass of pleasantries.

I suppressed a sigh. This wasn’t how I had imagined my client! But somehow I had to retrieve something from the situation. I hadn’t wanted to meet him this way, but I would just have to make the best of it.

Tugging my jacket into place, I stepped forward and offered my hand. ‘I’m so sorry about the misunderstanding, Lord Whellerby,’ I said briskly, avoiding George’s amused gaze. ‘I’m Frith Taylor, the site engineer—and Saffron’s sister, as you’ve obviously gathered.’

‘Er...delighted.’ Roly looked daunted by my formality, but he shook my hand.

‘Thank you for looking after Saffron,’ I went on. ‘We’ll get out of your way now.’

‘Oh, but there’s no n-need to go just y-yet,’ said Roly, dismayed. ‘Stay and, er, have some coffee or something.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ I said firmly, ‘but we’ve imposed enough. Come along, Saffron,’ I added to my sister, who was drawing shuddery little breaths and wiping tears pitifully from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

‘It’s starting to rain.’ Roly dug in his pocket and produced a handkerchief, which he offered to Saffron, while my eyes flew to the window in consternation.

Sure enough, the clouds I’d told Frank to watch out for had grown into a threatening mass, and a sulky drizzle was already smearing the panes of the elegant windows.

Roly didn’t care about my foundations. ‘You’ve been so upset,’ he told her. ‘Sit and have something warm to drink before you go out in the cold,’ he said, ignoring the tray of coffee that they had been drinking before George and I arrived.

Saffron took the handkerchief with a tremulous smile and dabbed at her cheeks with it. ‘You’re so kind,’ she whispered, and Roly swelled with pleasure.

Oh, please, I thought, and caught George’s eye. His expression was perfectly straight, but his blue eyes brimmed with amusement.

‘I really don’t think you should go out just yet,’ Roly was saying. ‘Now that your sister is here, you’ll feel better. I’m sure she won’t mind staying a bit longer and perhaps we can all help you resolve your problem.’

I opened my mouth to object to the delay, but George got in first. ‘You may as well give in,’ he murmured in my ear as Roly led Saffron tenderly back to the sofa. ‘Once Roly starts stringing together real sentences, there’ll be no budging him.’

‘But the foundations—’

‘You want to keep your client happy, don’t you? I’ll organise coffee and you see if you can find out why the diabolical Buffy’s marriage has thrown her into disarray.’

So I found myself sitting on the sofa opposite my sister and my client, keeping a fretful eye on the rain, while Saffron, tears miraculously dried now that she had everyone fussing around her, lapped up Roly’s admiration.

‘I’m so sorry to cause all this trouble,’ she was saying, her eyes wide and green. I have green eyes too, as a matter of fact, but mine are the ditchwater end of the spectrum while Saffron’s are like the deep green of the Caribbean. Or so I’ve been told.

‘I can’t tell you how much better I feel! I was so upset last night, I couldn’t sleep a wink. I couldn’t get hold of Frith, and I really needed her, so in the end I just had to come and find her myself. It was quite an adventure.’

I frowned. ‘How did you get here?’ I asked, trying to imagine Saffron finding out about trains or looking at a map.

‘Burke drove me.’

I should have known. Only Saffron would think being driven up the motorway in the back of luxurious limousine with tinted windows counted as an adventure.

‘I had no idea it would be so far,’ Saffron said and Roly gazed at her admiringly.

‘You must be exhausted.’

‘Oh, I am, but now that I’m here that doesn’t matter.’ Bravely, Saffron lifted her chin and managed a wobbly little smile.

Privately, I thought that my father’s chauffeur was likely to be more tired than Saffron, but I knew better than to say so. I cast another glance at the window. For now the heavy rain was holding off, but I really needed to be on the site.

It was George who poured out the coffee when it arrived and passed around the cups. Then he sprawled in the corner of the sofa, one arm along the back, long legs stretched at an angle towards me. I perched at the other end, pretending not to notice that if I leant back he would be able to touch my shoulder. He’d hardly have to move at all to stroke my hair, or let his fingers drift along my jaw.

My pulse kicked a little just at the thought of it.

Annoyed with myself, I inched further along until I was pressed against the arm of the sofa. Why was I even thinking about George? I had more important problems to deal with.

‘So, Saffron.’ I cleared my throat and set my cup and saucer on the table between the two sofas. ‘What exactly is the problem with Buffy?’

‘She’s not going to be here for my wedding!’ said Saffron, eyes glistening with remembered outrage. ‘She met this guy when she was skiing in Aspen earlier this year, and she thought it was just, like, a holiday romance, but yesterday he rang her and asked her to go back and marry him, and she’s like, yes, I’m changing my life, so she’s going next week.’

Crushed by the unfairness of it all, Saffron subsided back into the cushions, her beautiful mouth trembling.

‘What a shame,’ said Roly loyally and patted her hand.

I was irritatingly aware of George’s hand just inches away. He was just sitting there, not doing anything but still making the air hum with an energy that made my scalp shrink alarmingly and raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

Not to mention making it almost impossible to concentrate.

‘Well, that’s OK, isn’t it?’ I had to feel my way cautiously. This wasn’t quite how I had anticipated demonstrating my negotiating skills to the client, but Roly was paying close attention and was so obviously smitten with Saffron that I would have to be careful. ‘I mean, it’s quite romantic, isn’t it?’

‘What about my wedding? How am I going to manage without my chief bridesmaid?’

‘Can’t one of your other bridesmaids do it?’ The last time I had been involved in exhaustive bridesmaid negotiations, Saffron had planned on at least six.

‘There’s no one suitable.’

I was losing patience. ‘Being chief bridesmaid doesn’t call for great management skills,’ I said. ‘It’s not exactly life and death stuff, is it?’

A mistake. Saffron’s emerald eyes flashed and she bounced up indignantly on the cushions. ‘Are you saying my wedding’s not important?’

‘Well, it’s not—’ A casual nudge against my knee by George’s foot made me pause, and realise that I was going about this quite the wrong way. ‘I mean, of course it’s important for you,’ I amended with a quick glance at Roly. ‘I just thought one of the other girls would do as well.’

It turned out that I had no idea what was involved in planning a wedding. Saffron enumerated all the chief bridesmaid’s duties, ticking them off on her fingers, until I was lost in details of fittings and favours and rehearsal dinners.

‘And then, of course, there’s the hen party,’ said Saffron. ‘That’s nearly as important as the wedding itself. That’s your main job.’

‘Wait, hold on! My job?’ I struggled forward on the sofa in consternation.

‘You’re the only one who can do it.’

‘Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no.’ I waved my hands frantically to push the very idea away. ‘That’s a very bad idea.’

George, the beast, was shaking with laughter. I could feel it reverberating along the sofa, and I glared at him.

‘But you’re my sister,’ said Saffron, hurt.

‘Saffron, we discussed this before, and we agreed I wouldn’t fit in with everyone else.’

‘And you’re good at managing projects,’ Saffron went on as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘It has to be you.’

I drew in a deep breath. I had to put a stop to this right away. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said as firmly as I knew how. ‘I can’t drop everything to run up and down to London, Saffron. I’ve got a visitor and conference centre to build on schedule and on budget...’

I stopped, realising that I might as well have been speaking Polish. It was doubtful if Saffron had ever come across the word ‘budget’ before.

‘The thing is, Hugh’s depending on me to see this project through for him,’ I tried to explain. ‘I can’t let him down.’

‘But you can let me down!’

Suppressing a sigh, I tried a different tack. ‘You need a bridesmaid who can really give you the attention you deserve,’ I said. ‘One of your friends who lives in London and has the time to find you just the right place for your party, and help you choose all the wedding details. You know I’m no good at that kind of thing,’ I added with a cajoling smile, but Saffron refused to be consoled.

‘You’re my sister.’ Saffron’s lower lip trembled tragically. ‘I’d think you’d want to be part of my big day. There’s no one else I can rely on. Daddy’s always working, and I’ve never had a mother.’

Saffron: barely a GCSE to her name, but a PhD in emotional blackmail.

‘You’ve got Jax.’

‘He’s touring, and anyway he’s no good at wedding stuff.’ The green eyes swam with tears. Wordlessly, Roly reached for her hand, and Saffron permitted herself a little sob. ‘Couldn’t you at least organise the hen party? Otherwise I won’t have one, and what sort of bride doesn’t have a party?’

I drew a breath and told myself to stay firm. ‘I would, but I have this pesky thing called a job. I realise you may not have come across the concept before,’ I added, although the irony was lost on Saffron, ‘but a job involves turning up at a specific time and place and working in exchange for money.’

‘Well, that’s not a problem. Daddy would pay you if you need money.’

My expression tightened. ‘I’m not taking anything from him,’ I said in a flat voice. ‘And anyway, it’s not about money. It’s about responsibility. I’ve made a commitment to see this job through until Hugh is better. We have a contract and a responsibility to our client—who is Lord Whellerby here,’ I said, not that I expected that to mean much to Saffron.

It was too much to hope that my sister might realise what an awkward situation she was putting me in and suddenly become rational.

Not that Roly was helping by patting Saffron’s hand sympathetically, as if her bridesmaid crisis were more important than getting his new conference centre built on time.

Saffron pouted. ‘I don’t see why you need a stupid job anyway. If you’d only talk to Daddy, you could do whatever you liked. I don’t understand why you’re both so stubborn about each other!’

‘My career is what I like,’ I said, exasperated. ‘I don’t understand why you can’t understand that!’

‘Then what am I going to do?’ Saffron’s face crumpled. ‘Oh, I can’t believe you’d be this mean to me!’

I rubbed my temples. I loved my sister, but sometimes she could be exasperating.

‘I know the wedding is important to you, Saffron, but the conference centre is important to Lord Whellerby,’ I said. ‘A lot of money and a lot of jobs are depending on it, and the project has to come in on time.’

I threw an appealing look at Roly, who missed his cue completely. ‘I’m sure a week or two late wouldn’t matter,’ he said, gazing adoringly at Saffron, who was making a great play of biting her lip while the tears trembled and sparkled bewitchingly on the ends of her lashes.

Helplessly, I turned without thinking to George. I don’t know what my expression was like, but I must have seemed as if I was begging for help.

‘I think it would matter to Hugh Morrison,’ he said. ‘It’s not that long since his heart attack, and any delays would add a stress that he just doesn’t need at the moment.’

‘Exactly,’ I said, with a grateful look, and Roly looked chastened.

Sensing that she was losing her support, Saffron slumped back. ‘You don’t seem to realise that organising a wedding is stressful too,’ she complained. ‘It’s one of the most stressful times of your life, and that’s why you need the support of your family. But if this Hugh person is more important to you than I am, I—’

George sat forward. ‘Perhaps I could make a suggestion?’

I immediately looked wary, Saffron hopeful. ‘What?’ she asked tearfully.

‘You want Frith to organise a bridal party for you, but she can’t spare the time to go to London, right?’ He waited for Saffron to nod, while my brows drew together suspiciously. ‘So why not have the party here?’ he said.

‘Here?’

‘Now I know what you’re going to say.’ George held up his hands to stop Saffron from going any further, focusing on her rather than on me, although he must have been able to feel me glaring at him from the other end of the sofa. ‘You can’t go clubbing in Whellerby. This isn’t London, it isn’t cool...but why not make your party different from all the others? Anyone can go to a club or a restaurant in London. How many people can take over a stately home?’

‘Probably most of Saffron’s friends,’ I said crisply, my gratitude forgotten. I had a sinking suspicion where this was going. ‘There’s no question of—’

‘You mean, like, a house party?’ Saffron interrupted me.

‘Exactly,’ said George.

‘We could wear costumes, like in that TV series...’

‘You’ve got it. You could be the beautiful daughter, your friends can be dashing widows, or young ladies waiting to make their come out, and Frith could be the repressed housekeeper who’s secretly in love with one of the footmen.’

‘Hey—’ I began, but Saffron was already clapping her hands.

‘I love it! Think of the costumes! I’ve always wanted to wear one of those lovely evening gowns. I could wear long gloves!’

Buffy’s treachery was forgotten. Saffron was positively bouncing on the sofa in excitement. ‘Ooh, and we could make it a proper Edwardian house party...assignations in the conservatory, croquet on the lawn, dance cards...dancing!’ Her eyes lit up as the idea caught hold. ‘We could have a ball!’

‘Now see what you’ve done,’ I said to George with a severe look.

‘We’ll have to ask men too,’ Saffron was bubbling on. ‘We can’t have a ball with just girls. But that’s all right. Jax would look super hot in a DJ. A house like this must have a ballroom, right?’

I had heard enough. I held up my hands like a traffic cop. ‘Stop!’ I said so forcefully that Saffron was startled into silence. ‘Now just hold on a minute,’ I said more calmly. ‘We are not having a ball here. Or a dinner. Or anything at all. This is Lord Whellerby’s home. It’s not open to the public.’

‘Yet,’ said George.

‘What?’ I said, thrown by his calm interjection.

‘The conference centre is just part of our strategy to turn Whellerby Hall into the leading venue for events in the north,’ George said, with a glance at Roly, who nodded encouragement. ‘Eventually, we’ll turn the east wing into top-of-the-market accommodation for weddings and parties using the state rooms.’

‘George says we’ll be able to ch-charge an arm and a leg,’ Roly confided.

‘Of course, the east wing needs a lot of renovation before we can do that,’ George added, ‘but as that’s the long-term plan, why don’t we take advantage of Saffron’s celebrity?’

My chest swelled with unreasonable resentment as he sat there, talking persuasively while Saffron and Roly lapped it up. I had had George down as a lightweight, a playboy down on his luck just playing at estate management. He wasn’t supposed to be talking about strategies or long-term plans.

‘You’ve both been too discreet to mention it,’ he went on, ‘but I think we all know how famous she is. Saffron Taylor is the ultimate party girl, and she’s a social leader. Where she goes, others will follow.’

I closed my eyes in despair.

‘We couldn’t ask for better publicity. If Saffron and her closest friends have a private party up here, you can bet your bottom dollar everyone else will be clamouring to do the same. We don’t need to do anything so vulgar as advertise. Word will get round—especially if we ask your friends not to give away the secret location of the party. Before we know where we are, we’ll be beating people off with a stick.’

And so it was decided. I not only had to build a conference centre, I had to organise a costumed house party for a load of spoiled socialites.

I looked out of the window. It had started to rain in earnest.