Hitched!

‘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.

THREE

‘Make yourself at home, why don’t you?’ I dumped my briefcase on the worktop and raised my brows at George, who was leaning back in a chair with his feet on my kitchen table. And if I didn’t very much mistake the matter, he was drinking my tea out of my mug.

‘I knew you wouldn’t mind,’ he said with that smile that never failed to make my pulse kick, no matter how hard I braced myself against it. ‘I’ve spent all afternoon talking about artificial insemination,’ he said. ‘I was desperate for a drink, but my fridge is empty, so I came to see what you had. All I could find was tea, though.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry about that,’ I said with mock contrition. ‘I didn’t realise that I had to keep a supply of booze in just in case you felt like dropping by.’

‘You’ll get used to country ways soon,’ he said kindly, refusing to rise to my sarcasm. ‘Some beers and a couple of bottles of wine are always good to have in stock. You never know who’ll stop by.’

‘Obviously,’ I said. ‘Is it a country way to break into other people’s houses too?’

‘I didn’t break in. I used a key.’

‘You know, it’s a funny thing, but I could have sworn I locked the door when I left this morning,’ I said.

‘You did, and very sensible it was too, but I happen to have a spare.’ Extracting the key from his pocket, George waved it at me. ‘There’s always one next door in case you ever lose yours.’

‘I’m always careful about my keys,’ I said crushingly, and George studied me over the rim of his mug. My mug, rather.

‘I get the impression you’re careful about everything.’

‘I find it easier that way,’ I said.

Being careful had got me through after Mum had died. Being careful kept my life under control. Being careful kept me safe.

If I wasn’t careful, I would find myself tumbling back into that abyss of grief and loneliness that it had taken such effort to climb out of all those years ago.

I had made a career out of being careful, in fact. I loved the precision of engineering, of putting exactly the right materials together in exactly the right way to build something solid and functional. Something that would stay where you left it and still be there when you went back at the end of the day.

Dropping into the chair across the table from him, I pushed my hair wearily behind my ears.

‘Tired?’

‘One of those days,’ I said, ‘and it didn’t help that Saffron kept me up until the small hours yakking about how excited she was about the party. Thanks for that great idea!’ I added sarcastically to George, who lifted the mug in acknowledgement.

‘Anything to help.’ He let his chair—my chair!—fall back to the floor. ‘I’m sorry if Saffron got carried away, but it was a spur of the moment thing. You looked as if you could do with some support and it was the best I could think of.’

‘An Edwardian-themed house party? I’d hate to hear how elaborate your well-thought-out ideas are!’

‘Come on, it’s better than you running up and down to London, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose so.’

It occurred to me that it was nice to have someone to talk to when I came in at the end of the day, but I pushed the thought firmly aside. I pointed a finger at George instead. ‘But you’re going to help! I hold you entirely responsible for the whole thing. If it wasn’t for you, I could have got away with a couple of cocktails at a male stripper bar.’

George linked his hands behind his head and suppressed a smile. ‘Would that have been more your thing?’

‘Oh, all right, I’d have hated that too, but at least it would have been over quickly.’ I hunched a shoulder. ‘I’m dreading this house party already. I hate parties.’

‘Really?’

‘I never feel I belong,’ I said, remembering those awful parties my father had made me go to. One awful party in particular. ‘I don’t seem to fit in anywhere. I never have. Life with Mum was worlds apart from the life I had in my father’s house, and after a while I didn’t belong in either of them. It’s always been like that,’ I said.

I didn’t expect George to understand. He was the guy at the centre of any party, the one everyone revolved around, the one who made the party start just by walking in the door.

‘Saffron’s friends all think I’m weird,’ I added glumly. ‘We’ve got absolutely nothing to say to each other. Still.’ I put my hands on my thighs and made an effort to rouse myself. ‘It’s only one weekend and it’s what Saffron wants. I just need to make a plan.’

‘Well, I don’t mind helping you with that,’ said George. ‘Let’s do it in the pub.’

‘I don’t know...’

‘Oh, come on, it’s the least I can do to make up for landing you with a party to organise in the first place,’ he cajoled. ‘It’s not like a date, in case you’re still wondering if I’m going to turn into that weirdo you were so concerned about! Think of it as repayment for the tea.’ He saw me hesitating. ‘And it’s a lovely evening.’

It was. The earlier clouds had cleared to leave a sky flushed with the promise of spring, and the air was soft and enticing. In spite of myself, I glanced longingly out of the window.

There was no use pretending that I wasn’t tempted. ‘All right.’ I looked down at my black trousers and the taupe jacket I wore over a long-sleeved T shirt. ‘Give me five minutes to change.’

When I went back into the kitchen, I was pulling a cardigan over a simple blue T-shirt, and George’s brows lifted at the sight of the mint-green skirt that stopped just above my knees. He got to his feet, eyeing my legs with undisguised appreciation.

‘You look nice,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen your legs before.’

I tugged down my sleeves in a self-conscious gesture, and willed the stupid flush to fade from my cheeks. ‘I always wear trousers for work.’

‘I can see why. It would be far too distracting for your colleagues, otherwise.’

‘I shouldn’t have to worry about what I’m wearing,’ I said grouchily, mainly because I was ruffled by the way he was looking at me. It was only a skirt, for heaven’s sake! ‘Do you think the men I work with care about what they look like? But if I want to be taken seriously, I have to look professional at all times.’

‘That explains all the severe suits.’

‘And why I like to wear a skirt sometimes when I’m not working.’

‘You wore trousers last night,’ George pointed out.

After some discussion, it had been decided that Saffron would spend the rest of the day with Roly, while George and I went back to work. Roly had been all for Saffron staying the night at the Hall too, but I had vetoed that, afraid that if Saffron got too comfortable she would never leave. We had compromised with the four of us meeting for dinner at the Hall, where plans for the pre-wedding party had grown ever more elaborate before I managed to extract my sister and take her back to the cottage. I knew that one night on my sofa bed would be more than enough for her.

‘Of course,’ I told George, remembering the evening with a grimace. Torn between the need to keep my sister under control, to please Roly and—most difficult of all—to ignore the warm amusement in George’s eyes, I hadn’t enjoyed dinner much. ‘If I’m with a client, it’s even more important to look competent.’

George held the door open for me. ‘I don’t think Roly was thinking like a client last night.’

‘No.’ I locked the door and tucked the key into my purse. Not that there was much point in locking up when every Tom, Dick and George had a key, but it was hard to break London habits. I glanced up at George. ‘He does know that Saffron’s getting married, doesn’t he?’

‘It would be hard not to with all the talk of weddings last night.’

‘It’s just...he seems very smitten,’ I said, chewing the corner of my bottom lip. ‘Saffron’s so pretty, and she can be delightful when she wants, but she’s never had to think about anyone but herself. I wouldn’t want him to get hurt.’

‘Are you worried about Roly himself, or about your client being upset?’

‘Both,’ I said frankly.

‘Well, don’t. Roly’s obviously besotted with your sister, but he’ll be content to adore her from afar. He has surprisingly old-fashioned notions about being a gentleman, and he’d never take out any disappointment on you.’

I’d been surprised, in fact, that Saffron hadn’t shown more interest in George, but she clearly didn’t know quite what to make of him, and she didn’t have the sharpest sense of humour in the world. Mind you, who needed a sense of humour when you had silver gilt hair, emerald eyes and a siren’s body?