Starlight Over Bluebell Castle (Bluebell Castle, Book 3)

by Sarah Bennett

  ‘But I want to.’ Turning her hand over, he smoothed his thumb over the plump softness of her palm. ‘The woman I met tonight should’ve been perfect for me, but she wasn’t.’

  ‘Tristan.’

  ‘Shh. Don’t say anything, just listen to me for a minute. I know it’s too soon, but I’m going to lay my cards on the table. I’m not saying you’re the perfect woman for me, Jess, but damn it, I think you might be and I’m tired of pretending otherwise. I’m happy to wait for as long as you want me to. If you want me to.’

  Her fingers closed around his thumb. ‘But how am I supposed to know? And say I was attracted to you, it’s going to take Steve and I at least a couple of years to resolve everything legally. I can’t ask you to wait that long.’

  Tristan edged a little closer, brushing a curl from her forehead with his free hand. ‘You can if that’s what you need.’

  Her head dropped to rest on her chest. ‘I don’t know what I need,’ she whispered.

  Knowing he’d already pushed too far, Tristan bent to press a kiss to the top of her hair then released her hand and stepped back. ‘You don’t need to do anything other than take care of your boys and do the job I’m hiring you to do.’

  When her incredulous eyes met his, he nodded to show he was serious. ‘I’ve laid down my cards because it didn’t feel like I was being honest with you if I didn’t. But there’s no obligation for you to pick them up. Not tonight; not ever. I’ll not even speak of it again, unless you bring it up.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say …’

  Just don’t say no, not without thinking about it first. Instead of saying that, he took her shoulders in a gentle grip, and turned her towards the door. ‘Say good night.’ Releasing her, he returned to the sideboard to retrieve his brandy, keeping his back to the room.

  The silence stretched so long between them until every nerve and fibre of his body braced for the rejection he felt sure she was working up to.

  ‘Good night.’ It was barely a whisper, followed almost immediately by the snick of the door closing behind her.

  Raising his brandy in a mocking toast to his reflection in the glass window of the drink’s cabinet, he drained it and set it down with a click. ‘Tristan Ludworth, you’re a bloody idiot,’ he told himself, with a sigh. She hadn’t said no, at least, and that gave him hope. It was only as he reached the top of the stairs and turned towards his bedroom that the old adage came unwelcome to his mind. It’s the hope that kills you.

  The next morning he managed to catch his brother and Lucie before they entered the dining room for breakfast. ‘Hey, Luce, I need to borrow Arthur for a bit. Any chance you can take Jess and the kids out to explore some of the grounds this morning?’

  ‘Of course, it’s such a lovely day we should try and make the most of it. I’ll see if Mum and Lancelot want to come with us. I can take them to see the stone circle.’ One of Tristan’s forebears had created the folly in the heart of the woods, a scaled-down replica of the huge ancient monolith which rose on an escarpment overlooking the dales a few miles from their boundary line.

  ‘Thanks, you’re a star.’ He pecked Lucie on the cheek, then ushered them towards the dining room.

  ‘Nothing wrong, is there?’ Arthur asked, resisting when Tristan tried to push him forward. Though he’d not been on the rugby pitch for some years, Arthur retained the solid bulk of a prop, and nothing would move him until he was ready to move.

  ‘Just need to pick your brains, that’s all,’ Tristan assured him.

  ‘Well that’ll be a bloody short conversation!’ Arthur tapped the side of his skull.

  Jess was already in the dining room with Isaac strapped into his highchair and Elijah perched on her knee eating a slice of toast. Though she greeted Lucie’s suggestion with enthusiasm, the silent look she cast in Tristan’s direction said plain enough she knew where the idea had originated.

  Having seen the exploration party off with a wave and a kiss for his wife, Arthur closed the front door and leaned back against it, arms folded. ‘Are you going to tell me how you got on last night?’

  They’d always told each other everything, so of course he’d sought his brother’s help before finally posting a profile on the dating apps. ‘She was very nice.’

  Arthur snorted. ‘I sense a but, coming.’

  ‘But, she’s not the one for me.’

  ‘And who is the one for you?’ Rolling his eyes, Arthur uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the door. ‘Oh, bloody hell, Tristan, no.’

  Tristan shrugged. ‘What can I say?’

  ‘You can say that you’re not in love with a married woman with two little kids,’ Arthur retorted, voice full of exasperation. When Tristan remained silent his brother raised his hands to his head and pretended to yank out handfuls of his hair. ‘You’re an idiot.’

  ‘Probably.’ Tristan agreed. ‘I think it’s genetic.’

  They laughed before Arthur’s expression grew serious again. ‘So, what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘Nothing. The ball’s in her half of the pitch. She’ll either pick it up when she’s ready to play, or kick me into touch.’

  ‘Okay then.’ Moving in, Arthur gave him a quick hug then a slap on the shoulder. ‘You’ll let me know if I can do anything?’

  ‘Sure. But Jess isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about. Grab your coat, I’ve got something I want to show you.’

  Arthur circled the old gatehouse, peering through each of the windows in turn much as Tristan had done a few nights before. ‘It’s a bit of a tip.’

  ‘Nothing that can’t be put right, though.’ Stepping up beside him, Tristan cupped his hands to the glass and studied the main living room. ‘I can’t see any sign of damp, so I think the roof is sound. All it needs is gutting, redecorating and some modern fixtures and fittings. Apart from the plumbing, I reckon I can do pretty much everything else. I’ve got plenty of savings put away so I’m not asking you to fund any of it.’

  Arthur straightened up to face him. ‘You just want my permission to do it?’

  ‘Yes. Unless you have plans for it, yourself, of course.’

  That drew a laugh from his brother. ‘I can’t say I’ve given it a single thought for years, even though I drive past it every day.’ Tucking his hands in the pockets of his Barbour jacket, he began to wander around to the rear of the gatehouse once more. ‘And the plan is to set up your own events management business?’

  Tristan nodded. ‘I’ll still do as much as you want me to as far as the castle is concerned, but I figured that will gradually tail off as things get established and you need me less.’

  Arthur raised an eyebrow. ‘What gives you the idea I’m going to need you any less than I do now?’

  ‘I don’t know, I just figured the more settled into your role you become, the less there’ll be for me to do.’

  ‘At least you’re not abandoning me like Iggy did.’ Arthur said with a scowl. ‘When you told me you wanted to talk, I assumed you were going to tell me you wanted to go back to London in the new year, and that’s what this business with bringing Jess to work here was all about.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about? I told you I’d handed my notice in.’

  ‘I know you did, but then in the next breath you said you’d recruited some old friend of yours to organise the house party as she was perfect for the job, so I figured you were hedging your bets.’ A sly look came into his brother’s eyes. ‘That’s before I realised you’d lured her up here in the hopes she’d fall madly in love with you.’

  ‘Balls! That’s not why I offered her the job.’ At Arthur’s raised eyebrow, he relented. ‘Well, not consciously anyway. She’s really good, Arthur. I wouldn’t jeopardise the castle’s future like that.’

  ‘I know, I’m only pulling your leg. Big brother’s prerogative.’

  It was Tristan’s turn to roll his eyes. ‘Five minutes doesn’t give you that much clout.’ Only it had. Those five minutes had decided the futur
e for all of them, making Arthur the first-born son and heir instead of him. ‘You know why Iggy had to go, don’t you?’

  Their sister was the eldest of the three of them, but ancient inheritance rules entailed the title and estates to the first eligible male heir. Since leaving university, it had been Iggy who’d managed the bulk of their estate on behalf of their father, including running the household as their aunt Morgana had taken a step back. When Arthur married, she’d worried Lucie wouldn’t feel comfortable in her role as the lady of the castle with her looking over her shoulder, so Iggy had taken the tough decision to move away.

  ‘No. I don’t know why she had to bloody go!’ Arthur kicked a loose stone which had fallen from one of the external windowsills. ‘Oh, I heard all that stuff about not wanting to usurp Lucie’s place, and it’s rubbish. My darling wife couldn’t give two figs about running the castle, she’s got her own career and one she’s very happy with. Now she’s stuck pretending she cares about menu planning, and which of the tenant farmer’s wives has had a new baby, and all the other stuff Iggy used to handle with her eyes shut.’

  Tristan groaned. ‘And have you told her this?’

  Arthur kicked the stone again. ‘How could I? She wanted to go off with Will and I wasn’t going to stand in her way now, was I?’

  ‘What a pair of idiots you both are! She didn’t want to leave, and you wanted her to stay and yet neither of you said so.’

  Arthur leaned back against the wall of the gatehouse then slid down to sit on the scruffy grass with a sigh. ‘It’s genetic.’

  Laughing, Tristan slumped down next to him. ‘Arthur,’ he said, clapping a hand on his brother’s thigh. ‘I don’t want to leave Bluebell Castle.’

  Slapping his hand down on top of Tristan’s Arthur gave it a squeeze. ‘Good, because I don’t want you to bloody well leave.’

  Chapter 9

  It was like Tristan had turned the clock back to those awkward, painful weeks after the Christmas party kiss that never was, and Jess was furious with him for it. They’d been getting back to that lovely easy friendship they’d first enjoyed, and he’d thrown not just a spanner, but an entire bloody toolbox into the works. She rubbed her fingers over her palm feeling the ghost of his thumb stroking it, a reflex action she caught herself making numerous times a day. Several times over the weekend following his outrageous promise she’d contemplated packing the boys up and making a run for it, certain she’d not be able to face Tristan without blushing and generally acting like such a fool the entire household would soon be aware there was something going on between them. Which would make the whole situation ten times worse because there wasn’t anything going on between them – there couldn’t be.

  But how could she do it to Elijah? Drag him away from somewhere he clearly adored being. Over the weeks when she and Steve had been unpicking their life together, she’d watched, helpless as her darling boy crept ever deeper into a protective shell. During their exploration of the woods, Lancelot had hoisted him into the air and spun him around and around eliciting giggles of delight which had bubbled through her bloodstream like the finest champagne. Hearing the pure joy and excitement in that sound had driven home how rare it had become, how much her sunny, funny little man had withdrawn into himself.

  Isaac too was thriving on all the attention, and for all she’d told Tristan she could and would manage her family without help, her baby boy spent more time in the company of the older residents of the castle than he did in the playpen she’d set up for him in the corner of her sitting room when she was working during the day. If it wasn’t Betsy popping up with a flask of tea and some treat or other she’d baked and casually offering to take Isaac out for a stroll around, it was Constance or Lucie seeking her out for a quick chat that somehow led to them bearing him off to ‘give her a bit of peace and quiet’, like the two of them didn’t have their own work to do. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the ever-simmering tension between her and Tristan, Jess might have ventured to think her life at that moment was pretty much close to perfect.

  Not that Tristan showed any sign of feeling that tension, of course. When she’d met with him and Arthur to thrash out her contract, he’d acted as though nothing had changed between them. Affable and polite, he’d excused himself while she and Arthur talked numbers and tweaked a couple of the clauses in the draft contract offer, returning afterwards to argue robustly with her about her suggestion they limit the number of guests to a dozen. They’d compromised on fifteen in the end, giving him the flexibility to offer some single spaces for people who might be spending Christmas alone, but who didn’t want to be by themselves.

  Agreeing the programme of activities had proven much simpler. Arthur had offered to host a welcome cocktail party in the great hall on the first night, and Morgana was on board with the afternoon tea suggestion for a quiet day between Christmas and New Year. Though they would be arriving too late for the winter fete, the illuminated walk would still be in situ, so they’d pencilled in an evening for that, including a bonfire at the stone circle to toast marshmallows and drink brandy-laced hot chocolate. Christmas Eve dinner would be an extravagant buffet to be followed by Midnight Mass in the village church for those who wanted to attend. A traditional turkey roast dinner with all the family was the main feature for Christmas Day, with stockings full of little luxuries to be placed at the foot of each guest bed the night before and the option for a group present opening under the tree Jess was planning for the great hall. They’d agreed to leave some days unorganised so people could relax and enjoy the castle and its estate at their leisure, with an option to pre-book events happening in the local area.

  The only awkward moment had been when Jess had suggested a black-tie masquerade ball followed by a private firework display to usher in the new year. As she’d watched Arthur and Tristan exchange a look she knew she’d put her foot in it somehow, but wasn’t sure how. ‘I know a company who can design a display which doesn’t require an on-site technician. They’re very reliable, and we used them several times at Beaman and Tanner events and always got great feedback. And it doesn’t have to be a masquerade ball, but I thought it might be fun to get a big box of craft supplies and let people have a go at making their own over the preceding week.’

  ‘It’s not that …’ Tristan paused to scrub a hand over his face. ‘Arthur, Iggy and I did a private send off for Dad last New Year’s Eve.’

  ‘Oh. And you think it will be too upsetting? I can understand if you want to keep the evening free to do something private. I wasn’t suggesting the family had to attend the ball, and I can manage the fireworks, myself, I’ve done it before.’

  ‘It’s the fireworks that are the issue.’ Arthur gave her a sad smile. ‘We had Dad’s ashes incorporated into some rockets by a specialist company and sent him off with a bang so to speak.’

  Jess didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t realised such a thing was even possible. ‘I see,’ was about all she could manage.

  Tristan glanced at his brother. ‘The guests will be expecting something on New Year’s Eve.’ When Arthur did respond, he turned to Jess. ‘Leave it with us, okay?’

  ‘Sure.’ The ball would be fine on its own, and if she got some of those indoor sparklers and really went to town on decorations, no one would miss the fireworks. Hopefully.

  The events list went up on the castle’s website without mentioning fireworks, and Jess had to admit Tristan had created a stunning landing page for the house party. The teaser photos they’d chosen included a montage of the most spectacular plants in the orangery, a leather armchair they’d dragged into the library and placed strategically against a backdrop of book-lined shelves, and the dining room table looking resplendent with a full china dinner service laid out. They’d also added a couple of staged images of one of the bedrooms, including the roll top bath full of steaming water with a scattering of rose petals floating on the surface, and a tuxedo and a breathtaking sequined gown in shades of bronze and gold laid o
ut on a bed made up with crisp cotton linens. The gown had been provided by Morgana after overhearing her discussing ideas for the website with Tristan over dinner, and Jess was simply dying for a glimpse into the older woman’s wardrobe to see what other delights might be lurking in its cedarwood scented depths.

  All in all, Jess thought as she stared out of the window of her sitting room-cum-study and reflected on her first month at Bluebell Castle, things were going better than she could’ve hoped for. Now, if she could only ignore the Tristan-shaped elephant in the room. The heat in his eyes when he’d declared his feelings that night, the depth of sincerity in his words had made that impossible. She’d always been aware of him on a visceral level from the very first day when he’d sat beside her at the office induction and her fingers had tingled for ages after they’d shaken hands. The intervening years and the first happy years of her marriage had quashed that awareness, but now it had come roaring back to life. Whenever she saw him, nerves and anticipation fizzed in her belly. The scent of that amber aftershave he favoured seemed to linger in the air in unexpected places, waiting to catch her unawares and drive whatever thoughts she had right out of her head for a moment. But it was his voice that really undid her, the deep, even timbre bringing the hairs on her arms to tingling attention. And, God, the way he laughed, an unguarded roll of humour which never failed to make her want to join in, even as it sent her wobbly around the knees. Though her head said ‘no’, and not just no, but ‘hell no’, her body and perhaps even a traitorous little piece of her heart said, ‘hmm’, and ‘what if’, and ‘maybe …’ It was driving her to distraction.

  Realising she’d been daydreaming about him for a good ten minutes, Jess gave herself a shake and turned her attention back to the nine sheets of paper she’d stuck to the wall above her desk, with a polaroid image of each of the rooms pinned to their top corners. Four of the doubles had a red asterisk inked in the opposite corner to indicate a confirmed booking.