The Royals Series

by Bay, Louise

  “I bet you’re the talk of the village. Rich, successful, handsome and without a wife. I can’t imagine there’s many men like you around these parts.”

  “I think you’re a little biased, and anyway, I told you—you don’t need to worry about my love life. I do fine.”

  “I’m not talking about sex,” she said. “I want you to find someone you can build a life with. When I’m gone—”

  “Granny,” I growled, interrupting her. “I don’t want you talking like that. You know you’re going to live forever.”

  “I certainly hope so, but I’d like to see you settled down. You’re not getting any younger.”

  “You’re hitting me high and low with the compliments. Give me a break. I’m thirty-five.”

  “Yes, exactly. You’ve had plenty of time to play the field. It’s time, my boy.”

  “You don’t need to worry, I’m putting down roots,” I said, lifting my chin toward the gardens. I didn’t spend time and energy playing at anything. I didn’t take on things I didn’t know if I could make work, but once I committed to something, it got my undivided attention. That approach had made me a lot of money, which was what I’d been aiming for. But it also meant that anything personal was a distraction. Women were simply a way of blowing off steam. Buying this house was the biggest personal commitment I’d ever made and was ever likely to make.

  “That will have to do for now. But don’t make this lady wait too long for great-grandchildren. This house is plenty big enough.”

  Great-grandchildren? Getting the semi-regular lectures about not having a wife was bad enough. “I’ve told you before, children aren’t on my horizon.” Fatherhood was something I’d do everything to avoid. It wasn’t the kind of man I was. The only family that mattered to me and the only family I’d ever have was sitting right before me. “I’m sure this garden will keep you plenty busy enough.”

  “It is beautiful,” she said. “But not more beautiful than a family.”

  That hadn’t been my blueprint growing up—my family had been anything but beautiful. It had been sad, turbulent and chaotic and everything I didn’t want to repeat. “And you’re sure that you don’t mind me using the land out of the view of the house?” I asked, changing the subject. Beyond the gardens there were twenty-two acres of land, woodland and unfarmed fields. The stables and the surrounding area had long been abandoned, and the place was waiting for me to breathe fresh life into it. And that was what I planned to do.

  “You keep talking about the land—since when have you been interested in that kind of thing?”

  “I’m interested in anything that will make me money, Granny. You know that.”

  “You’ve always been the same,” she replied. “I hope you’re not still brooding over that newspaper thing.”

  I set my cup down. “I’m not a brooder,” I replied. “I’m a do-er.” I didn’t believe in signs from the universe and the stars aligning, but I was perfectly happy to take full advantage of a coincidence. The article in the London Times about me destroying entrepreneurship by rewarding destruction rather than new ideas and risk-taking had come out on the same day that Badsley House had come up for sale. And I had an idea percolating of how to use Badsley to prove that journalist wrong.

  “You shouldn’t let that sort of thing affect you. It’s just some self-righteous journalist who’s jealous that someone with a ‘useless title’ has created an empire.”

  “Hardly an empire,” I replied.

  “What would you call it? You’re thirty-five, and despite the fact that you started with nothing, you were just named one of the richest men in England.”

  “But like that journalist said, I don’t build anything. In fact, I’ve made all my money doing the exact opposite—they were right about that.” The article had got under my skin and stuck. I couldn’t shake it off. The criticism reminded me too much of the legacy my father had left behind—destruction. And I’d spent a lifetime proving I was more than my father’s son.

  I’d thought buying Badsley would fill the hollow inside me that sometimes echoed in the middle of the night. And although there was no doubt seeing my grandmother here had satisfied some kind of need in me, there was something still missing.

  “You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. You saved countless jobs by ensuring companies don’t go into bankruptcy.”

  “Liquidation,” I corrected her. “But yes, there’s no doubt that any of the companies I’ve bought wouldn’t have survived otherwise.” There was value in what I did—my grandmother was right, I saved jobs, pensions and most of all I made money—but I couldn’t help shake the reality that I’d never built a business. I’d just broken up other people’s. I was hoping that I might change that.

  I’d start small, out of the glare of London’s spotlight and away from the reputation I had for being cutthroat and hard-nosed—I’d build, produce, create. My father had destroyed his family and his family’s legacy. I would do the opposite. Buying Badsley had just been the first step in undoing the hurt he’d created, but I had a long way to go before I’d completely rewritten the harm he’d done and the pain and resentment he’d carved into my history.

  Chapter Five

  Darcy

  I loved this time of year when the ground underfoot seemed to bounce with new life and the grayness of winter finally gave way to shoots of green. I closed the gate at the top of the farm shop car park and clicked the padlock shut. Having a private path to the Woolton Hall farm shop was an owner perk. The place had opened six months ago, but I still got a thrill whenever I visited. I waved as I spotted Aurora waiting in front of the gray clapboard building on the other side of the gravel car park. The shop sat on the outskirts of the village on a piece of Woolton Hall land that had previously housed a derelict barn. The location meant the shop attracted passing traffic, but was far enough away that it didn’t draw any stray customers toward Woolton Hall.

  I greeted Aurora with a hug and a blast of color caught my attention. “Oh, they’ve started doing the hanging baskets I suggested. That’s so cute.” I crouched to take in the baskets of begonias and miniature daffodils. “They look adorable.”

  “You’ve done an incredible thing setting up this place,” she said.

  “I can’t take any of the credit.” I linked my arm through Aurora’s and we bundled inside.

  “You’re ridiculous. If you can’t take the credit, I don’t know who can.”

  “This guy,” I said, high-fiving Rory as we stepped inside. As manager, Rory had done a fantastic job attracting local farms and craftsmen to display their products, and the shop had provided another full-time position and three part-time summer jobs for locals. The small profit that it was projected to make would support the Woolton Village charity, which provided help for the elderly village residents. It was exactly what I’d envisioned. A self-sustaining local shop, providing employment for local people.

  And—bonus—it sold plenty of things I liked to buy. “We’re running out of honey. Is there anything you need?” I asked Aurora.

  “I don’t think so. Are you going to create a basket for Badsley House? It would be a nice village welcome, don’t you think?”

  I paused in front of the two types of local honey the shop stocked. “You think I should?”

  “You were considering not taking a gift?”

  I didn’t want to go at all, but clearly Aurora was horrified at the idea that I wouldn’t take a welcome present, so I couldn’t admit that. I thought I’d been clear the other day in Woolton’s kitchen.

  “And anyway, we’ve already met, so it seems unnecessary to go and formally visit,” I said.

  Aurora’s eyes went wide and she grasped my arm. I shook her off. “Tell me everything! Is he as handsome as they said? Is he tall? Was there chemistry?”

  “Good grief. No, no and no. Why would you think there might be chemistry?”

  “I like the idea that you met and it was love at first sight, or at least lust at first sight.”


  I snorted. I had been covered in mud. And although before I’d found out more about him I’d thought he was attractive, it had just been a fleeting moment. What mattered was who people were on the inside, not how hot they were on the outside.

  “Hardly. Anyway, he’s absolutely not my type—you read that article. Being a weekender, he won’t be around much anyway.” I examined the label on a jar of lavender honey.

  I spotted a stack of wire baskets by the door and went to grab one. I put the honey in my basket. “I could never even be friends with someone who didn’t want to improve the world around them,” I said. “Clearly all he cares about is money.” In my experience, men like Logan just wanted to be better, richer, more successful than the next guy at all costs. Those things weren’t important to me and they weren’t attractive to me in others.

  “But so does Ryder,” she replied as we wandered toward the eggs.

  “I don’t think money is all Ryder cares about. It was important to him to make his own way in the world, that’s all. Anyway, I don’t get to pick my family.”

  She laughed. “But this new guy clearly likes the country, even if he didn’t grow up here.”

  “The man flies in to experience the country in a helicopter.”

  “That just means he’s wealthy, not that he doesn’t like the country. And you know what these journalists are like. They might have some kind of ongoing feud. The writer might just be jealous.”

  “You’re grasping at straws.” Aurora was nothing if not a romantic.

  “But didn’t you say he was handsome?” she replied as if she hadn’t read the article and didn’t know how little his looks would matter given his character.

  I shook my head and guided us toward the “New in Store” section. “Definitely not. He looked like a fish out of water, and worse, a tourist.” There was no real doubt that he was handsome, even if he wasn’t what I’d normally go for, but admitting that would be adding fuel to Aurora’s fire. He was too direct, too confident. And he was taller than most men I’d dated. And broader. Like maybe he hadn’t given up playing a lot of sports since leaving university.

  “And he spooked Bella.”

  She winced, knowing how much I believed that horses were the ultimate judges of character. “Not a horse person?” she asked.

  “Not by the looks of it,” I replied, which was a little unfair. Logan had raced after Bella, and to my surprise, caught her and managed to bring her back to me. Bella was always a little skittish, and it had caught me off guard that she’d responded to him.

  “Well, like it or not, he’s a villager now. And even though you might be disappointed that he’s not as handsome as you’d hoped, you really should call ’round and welcome him.”

  I spun to face her. “Wait, what? You think I’m disappointed he’s not handsome?”

  Aurora shrugged. “I thought you wanted to meet someone special.”

  I’d settle for some sex—but yes, of course I wanted to meet the one at some point in the future. “I’m not desperate, Aurora.”

  “I see how you are around Scarlett and Ryder’s children, and I know you think Woolton is a little empty with just you living there.”

  My heart sank at the thought that I would be living at Woolton on my own forever. I loved the place and never wanted to leave—it was where I’d made all my good memories from childhood, and almost all of my adult ones. But at the same time, Aurora was right. I wanted to find someone to share it with.

  “That might be so,” I replied. “But I never thought that the new owner of Badsley might be suitable.” Maybe I’d thought about it for the thirty minutes between meeting him and reading that article. But I couldn’t get away from the facts.

  “You really need to try and be a little more open-minded,” Aurora said.

  “About what?”

  “About new people moving into the village.”

  “I’m just protective. I just want to preserve what’s special about the place. If our new neighbor destroys everything in his path, I don’t want Woolton Village to be next on his list.”

  “You’re being so dramatic. I know you want things to stay as they always have been. And you’re not good with change, but I just think—”

  “I don’t know how you can say that—if it wasn’t for me, this farm shop wouldn’t exist.”

  “True enough. But I think sometimes you’re clinging on to an idealized view of how things should be, instead of how they are. All I’m saying is, be open to new ideas. New people.”

  I welcomed new people. Scarlett had been welcomed into the family, and she was an outsider. An American. And Scarlett’s sister, Violet, had become a close friend. Aurora wasn’t looking at the facts.

  “Did you ever think you’re writing this new guy off because he’s just not familiar?”

  “Aurora, seriously? You read that article. Does he seem like the kind of man I’d be attracted to?”

  “But when’s the last time you dated?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything? I’d happily date someone if I met someone I liked.”

  “Really?” she asked, her raised eyebrows and tilted head calling me out as a liar.

  “Really. And you’re a fine one to talk.”

  “If you remember, I went on a date last week.”

  “Dates in London don’t count.” It wasn’t as if she could get serious about someone who lived in the city any more than I could.

  “Darcy, we’re an hour and a half away from the city. We’re hardly in the Outer Hebrides.”

  “I’m just being practical.”

  “So unless someone you like moves in next door, you don’t want to date them, but if they do move in next door, they’re not good enough because they’re a weekender, or they’re tough in business or their wellies aren’t muddy enough.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Am I? So you weren’t considering avoiding the new owner of Badsley House?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You should have already been by,” she said, elbowing me in the ribs. “You might even find out the newspaper was wrong about him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Whoever they are, they’re not going to disrupt anything in Woolton, but even if they do, maybe that’s a good thing.”

  Aurora must have a short memory. “How can you say that? Every time we get newcomers in the village, disaster strikes.”

  “Disaster? You’re exaggerating.”

  “I am? What about the Thompsons and the Foleys? And when Mr. Jenkins got run over by that Aston Martin?”

  “But the driver was a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Lonsdale. It wasn’t anyone in the village.”

  “Exactly. People from the city don’t understand life out here. They don’t know that Mr. Jenkins can’t get to the other side of the road as quickly as most people because of his arthritis. They wouldn’t think to slow down. They’re less compassionate, less thoughtful.”

  Aurora sighed. “Woolton can’t exist in some kind of perfect bubble. Sometimes change can be a good thing.”

  She would never convince me of that. I’d had far too much change growing up. My mother wandering in and out of our lives as it suited her. My grandmother dying. Then my grandfather falling ill and dying a couple of years ago.

  Woolton was the constant. It had always been the life raft I could cling to when everything was falling apart. My world was returning to a new normal, and I just wanted the normal to stick around for a while. I wanted to preserve the village so it was the same place my grandparents lived in, the same place that provided mine and my brother’s safe and happy haven. I wanted to maintain it for them, for me, for all the people who would need Woolton Village as much as I had. That wasn’t such a bad thing, was it?

  “You know your grandfather would want you to visit the new owners of Badsley.”

  I sighed. Aurora was right. I really should probably go and introduce myself when I wasn’t trespassing and cov
ered in mud. And a basket would be a nice touch. “Okay, you win. Help me pick out some things you think they’d like and I’ll go and visit tomorrow.”

  “You never know, he might get involved in village life—he could be an asset to the village.”

  “Helicopters and everything,” I said, putting some organic asparagus in my basket.

  “Keep an open mind,” she replied. “He might be a breath of fresh air.”

  “We have plenty of that.” But I’d go and welcome them. At the very least, I could make a plea for him to stop flying over the village.

  Chapter Six

  Darcy

  Visiting my new neighbor at Badsley House was the last thing I wanted to be doing. I tightened my grip on the basket I was carrying and pressed the brass doorbell. Glancing around, the house looked just like it always had. The wisteria that crept up over the door was about to bloom and the box hedging around the driveway was neatly cut.

  At the sound of movement on the other side of the door, I pulled my shoulders back and my mouth into a wide smile.

  A woman in her mid-fifties smiled back. My mind flicked through possibilities, a housekeeper? No, she was wearing a nurse’s uniform, Logan’s mother? Was someone ill?

  “Hello,” I said.

  She nodded. “Good afternoon.”

  “I’m a neighbor—Darcy Westbury. I just popped by to drop this off and welcome you to the village.”

  “Ahhh, Mrs. Steele is in the garden. Let me show you through.”

  Mrs. Steele? Did she mean Logan’s mother or did the ladies of the W.I. have it wrong when they said Logan was single? “I don’t want to impose if someone is unwell. I can come back another time, or just leave this,” I said offering the basket of food and gifts. When I was ill, I wanted to curl up in bed and watch reality TV. I certainly didn’t want to entertain strangers.