Hitched!

‘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—’