To Tame the Playboy: The Playboy of Pengarroth Hall / A Night with the Society Playboy / Playboy Boss, Pregnancy of Passion

‘Well, we don’t often have visitors,’ the woman replied. ‘Now, let me have your jacket and scarf and you sit there—kettle’s already boiled.’

The modest-sized room was simply furnished but cosy and immaculate, the small dining table laid with a white lace cloth and rose-patterned china. Fleur leaned back and looked around her admiringly. ‘This is the sort of room you’d see in a child’s picture book,’ she said, looking up at Beryl. ‘So…appealing…and lovely.’

‘Old fashioned, you mean,’ Pat said good-naturedly. ‘But it’s how we like it, don’t we, Mum?’

Beryl poured boiling water into the pot, then brought the plates of cakes over to the table. ‘Now, dear, have you ever tasted potato cake—the real thing, I mean? Like we make down this way?’

Fleur studied the plate she was being shown, on which was a rather flat-shaped cake, criss-crossed on the slightly browned top and dusted with sugar. ‘I don’t think so,’ she replied, her mouth already watering. ‘How’s it made, Beryl?’

‘Easy,’ Beryl said. ‘Cooked, mashed potatoes, big spoonful of fresh beef suet and the same of sugar, all mixed up by hand, add a few currants, shape it up on a baking sheet, mark it out so it’s easy to serve, and let it cook slowly for about an hour. Eat it hot. Like this.’ And, with the deft use of a sharp knife, she lifted a generous piece onto Fleur’s plate and stood back. ‘Try it,’ she said.

Fleur did—and it was delicious. Her obvious enjoyment naturally pleased Beryl, and for the next half an hour all three women tucked into it, their teacups being refilled regularly.

‘Now, how about a saffron bun—have you ever had saffron buns?’ Beryl said, really getting into entertainment mode, but Fleur shook her head regretfully.

‘Honestly, Beryl, I’ve had three slices of potato cake! I couldn’t eat another mouthful!’

‘Well, have a rest and come back in a minute,’ Beryl said happily. ‘I’ve looked out those two books we were talking about the other day, by the way.’

‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll be here long enough to read them,’ Fleur said. ‘I’m going home tomorrow, Beryl—a bit earlier than I originally thought.’

‘Well, take them with you, dear, and you can bring them back next time you’re here.’

There won’t be a next time, Fleur thought, but instead she said, ‘I can’t thank you both enough for all you’ve done to make me so welcome…I’ve never had a holiday like this, and I’ve loved every minute of it.’ Bending down, she reached for her bag and took out the tissue-wrapped bottle of sherry which Sebastian had left out for her. ‘This is just a little thank you, Beryl—and don’t drink it all at once!’

‘Oh, my goodness—thank you so much,’ the woman replied, ‘but you shouldn’t have, you know. You’ve been a rather special guest—it’s been a pleasure to look after you. Not that I’ve done much, but I know Pat’s enjoyed your company.’ She hesitated, then added rather slyly, ‘To say nothing of our lord and master.’

Fleur looked away at that, then reached for her gift for Pat. ‘And I hope you’ll find a use for this, Pat.’

Pat unwrapped the watering can, holding it up to admire it. ‘It…it’s beautiful, Fleur,’ she said. She paused. ‘Of course I’ll use it. And I shall always treasure it.’

No one spoke for a few minutes after that, and Fleur wondered whether it was time to go back.

‘You’ve done Sebastian the world of good, Fleur. We’ve not seen him so…so relaxed in a long time,’ Pat said, breaking the silence. ‘And both Mum and I think that it’s because you’re here. He obviously likes you a lot and it’s good to see him happy again—especially after what happened.’

Fleur had coloured up at the words, but admitted to being curious as to what Pat was talking about. ‘What did happen?’ she asked.

‘Oh, don’t you know—hasn’t Mia told you?’

‘Told me what?’

‘Well, Sebastian was going to be married to one of Mia’s friends—well, actually, Mia hadn’t known her for that long but she introduced her to Sebastian and he fell for her. Hook, line and sinker. He never tended to bring girlfriends down here—though he had plenty of them, I believe, and he was considered a bit of a playboy when he was younger. Anyway, we all got excited when this one turned up—Davina, her name was. She looked like something out of a fashion magazine—and actually I quite liked her. She was friendly enough. But obviously something pretty disastrous must have happened because, out of the blue, they finished, everything was cancelled. And, after that, Sebastian didn’t come home for a while—he left everything here for Frank and the others to deal with. Most unlike him. Anyway, it became a taboo subject very quickly and no one ever refers to it now. But Mum and I think it’s high time he found someone else—and we think that you’d be just the one for him, Fleur.’ She sat back with the satisfied air of someone who had just made a profound and world-changing statement.

Fleur gave a slightly hysterical giggle and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘You must be joking!’ she exclaimed. ‘My goodness, Sebastian has been a very kind host, I can’t deny that, but I assure you that’s all he is. I know neither of us is looking for a relationship…I’m very dedicated to my work…but though I’m flattered that you place me in the elevated position as a possible partner for him, I don’t think he would share your enthusiasm. In fact, I’m sure he wouldn’t,’ she added, remembering the morning’s conversation.

‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong,’ Pat said flatly. ‘I know the bloke, have known him all his life, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you.’ She shook her head briefly. ‘Mum and I have been chatting and we think it would be fantastic if you could bring him out of his shell again, bring him back to how he used to be. When that woman departed—whatever the reason was—it took the life right out of him.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, we can’t do anything about it, but we just wanted you to know what we think. We think he’s fallen in love with you, and that’s all there is to it. And it would be wonderful for Pengarroth Hall to have someone like you around permanently.’

Fleur smiled at the two women. ‘Beryl—Pat—you’ve been reading too many of those romantic novels,’ she said. ‘Life—real life—isn’t like that. Sebastian and I only met a few weeks ago; he doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him. But thank you for all the nice things you’ve said—and I’m sure that someone will eventually be the right one for him. It’s just not me, I’m afraid.’

No more was said after that and presently, after Fleur had thanked Beryl again for her hospitality, she and Pat made their way back down to the house so that Pat could prepare the evening meal.

‘I hope you don’t think we spoke out of turn, Fleur,’ Pat said as they reached the house. ‘You know—about you and Sebastian…what we were hoping…’

Fleur smiled quickly. ‘Of course I don’t, Pat,’ she said. ‘I thought it was rather sweet of you to be so concerned for Sebastian’s well-being. He’s…very lucky to have such concerned friends. And he will meet someone soon, I’m sure. Just give him time.’

As Sebastian showered and changed in time for supper, he felt angry with himself, at his undeniable disappointment that Fleur was going home tomorrow. He’d planned one or two things they could do, places he could show her, because she was such an easy woman to please. When Mia had asked him to ‘look after’ her, he hadn’t realized how much he was going to enjoy it!

He put on light trousers and a black open-neck shirt and brushed out his thick hair vigorously, wondering how she would be looking this evening. Then he stopped what he was doing, his expression closing in. They’d had quite a spat this morning, and he knew it was all his fault. Unable to stop himself, he’d done it deliberately. Because he’d known very well that she had not found Rudolph Malone attractive. He was beginning to know her well enough to sense what she was feeling. And she had behaved impeccably—naturally. He wouldn’t have expected anything less.

No, what had disturbed him that morning when he’d awoken, had been the memory of how she’d looked as she’d stood, poised, at the head of the stairs, coming down to meet Rudy. She had not taken the trouble to dress herself up like that before and, far from admiring her spectacular appearance, he had been filled with an unexpected dread. Because it was so reminiscent of how Davina had always put in an appearance. Asking to be admired, to be the centre of attention. And this did not fit Fleur’s personality one bit. He knew that very well—yet he could not rid himself of the sense of distaste he’d experienced in seeing her like that. It was an unpleasant sense of déjà vu that he could have done without.

Then he shook himself angrily. She was going home tomorrow and a good thing too. He had his life to get on with.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AT ABOUT eleven o’clock the next morning, Fleur made her final preparations to go home. Sebastian had already left the house, but not before wishing her a casual goodbye and a safe journey, adding a slightly non-committal invitation to come and visit again some time. He had already brought her car around to the front entrance, and put her case in the boot.

Now, she gave one last look around the bedroom to make sure that she’d not left anything behind, then zipped up her hand luggage, slung her bag over her shoulder and went downstairs. Pat was in the kitchen and Fleur was aware of the tangibly sad atmosphere which prevailed. She bent down to smooth the head of the sleeping dog.

‘I shall miss you, Benson,’ she said softly. ‘Even if you did disobey me the other day.’

‘Not as much as we’re going to miss you,’ Pat sniffed.

They made their final goodbyes, with Fleur making vague promises to come back to Pengarroth Hall some time in the near future—though she knew that that was not likely to happen. She felt in her bones that her time here should have a final line drawn under it, and that now she should get back to the safety of work.

She smiled faintly as she passed the big gate at the top end of the estate—the one she’d mistaken for the main entrance, remembering Sebastian’s reaction when he’d spotted her sitting there in the semi-darkness. And, automatically, her mind did a rerun of everything that had happened since and her smile deepened. She had had a great time, as she’d told them all, but she finally admitted that the towering influence over the holiday had been that of her reluctant host.

Pausing for a moment at the crossroads before joining the B road which would eventually lead her to the motorway, Fleur made a face to herself as she thought about Sebastian. He hadn’t been reluctant at all, she decided, or, if he had been, he’d covered it up very well, because after his initial antipathy to Mia’s request that he should look after Fleur, he appeared to have warmed to the task with every day that had passed. If he’d wanted to avoid her, he could have done it easily enough. And, although she had deliberately tried to shut out of her mind all the things which Pat had said yesterday, the woman’s remarks would keep floating back into her consciousness. To imagine, even for a second, that Sebastian fancied her was too ridiculous for words! He was clearly not looking for another emotional relationship—he’d made that abundantly clear during one of their early minor discussions on the subject, and, even if he was, there’d be a plentiful selection of women in the elevated life he led from which to choose. She would not be top of his list, that was for sure. Then, having hardened those thoughts in her mind, Fleur experienced the familiar tingle of sensuousness when she remembered what had happened a few nights ago in her bedroom…how she’d clung to him and, more importantly, how he’d responded. Did he fancy her? Or had that been the automatic, passing reaction which any red-blooded male might have made in those circumstances? She shrugged. It was difficult to tell but, anyway, it was too late now. That incident had passed like water under a bridge, and neither of them had alluded to it since.

As she drove swiftly along the smooth, well-maintained road, her mind flipped to the time they’d spent together in Truro. They had both enjoyed their time together there—she had certainly enjoyed experiencing the city and then, when he’d joined her in the cathedral, his attitude had been so…so special. It had been a simple, yet magical day and he had been so considerate, so warm, and there seemed to have been that certain thread of familiarity between them which only a couple—a devoted couple—might expect to enjoy.

Irritated with herself for dwelling on things—things which were now of the past—she put on a CD and let the music of one of the Verdi operas swell around her like a comforting tide, filling her mind with its beauty.

The traffic began to thicken as she sped along, hampered largely by various delivery trucks and milk and petrol tankers, but as the distance between herself and Pengarroth Hall—and its owner—lengthened, Fleur felt distinct relief, a lightening of her mood. She was glad she’d decided to invent the excuse to go home early—because, right there in the centre of all her other thoughts, was the uncomfortable memory of Sebastian’s behaviour yesterday morning at breakfast. His suggestion that she had given Rudolph Malone undue attention, or that she had been making up to him, had upset her more than she wanted to admit. It was an offensive, preposterous suggestion, but it was Sebastian’s manner which had been the worst part. He had been almost aggressive—accusing—and she had given him no reason to be either.

Fleur’s lips set in a tight line. That little episode had been a demonstration of the real Sebastian, she thought with a trace of bitterness. He had obviously felt an unusual lack of control in that particular scenario, and he hadn’t liked it. She shrugged. Well, was she surprised? He fitted perfectly into the mould of men to avoid.

Working up in the top fields with Frank as they stood listing and marking the trees needing attention, Sebastian felt moody and annoyed with himself. He’d deliberately left the house early because he hadn’t wanted to stand there in the drive and wave goodbye to Fleur. And he just didn’t understand that, didn’t understand himself. Didn’t understand the minor agony he was going through.

She was just another female. Yes, she was gorgeous to look at, but he’d met plenty like that, and yes, she was highly intelligent, but his law firm had its fair share of bright females. So what was the big problem? The problem was that he felt thwarted. He had expected her—wanted her—to be staying for several more days and instead she’d gone with barely twenty four hours’ notice. It had seemed to him an unduly hasty departure. Especially as he’d made plans to entertain her—as Mia had asked him to—and he’d looked forward to it. He knew he was being petty-minded and he could kick himself for his feelings, his folly. But, unfortunately for him, he’d been drawn to Fleur—drawn to her like a pin to a magnet—from almost the first moment he’d set eyes on her. He knew he should resist these impulses, because it was safer, in his own best interests to remain emotionally unshackled…wasn’t it? So why wasn’t he pleased that she’d gone? He kicked idly at a clod of earth beneath his boot. The damnable thing was that he knew she wasn’t in the least interested in him—and that only fired his longing to have her, to have his own way. He knew it to be one of the frailties—or strengths—of his character that when anything was denied him he didn’t rest until he’d succeeded in getting it. And now she’d gone and he somehow didn’t think it would be easy to entice her back to Pengarroth Hall.

‘So what do you reckon about this one then, Sebastian?’ Frank asked for the third time, and Sebastian looked back at the man quickly.

‘Sorry, Frank—what did you say?’

‘This one.’ Frank tapped a tree trunk with his stick. ‘I think it should probably come down.’

‘Yes. Yes, I agree,’ Sebastian said vaguely, and the older man stared at him, his shrewd eyes narrowing slightly.