by Sasha Morgan
‘What time do you open tomorrow?’
‘Ten o’clock in the morning. I’m stopping at the Hall tonight to make sure I’m up and ready for blast off.’
‘Don’t be nervous! Enjoy.’
‘I know, and I will, it’s just getting the first day over with.’
‘Well, I’ll have a coffee and cake in the tearoom when I’ve finished my shift at the pub.’
‘Thanks. I’m so pleased Sebastian’s going to be there. The public will love him.’
‘They will. I can just imagine him.’
‘Talking of which, have you seen anything of Nick since the Landlord’s Supper?’
‘You mean since Tobias gave him a good thrashing?’ laughed Finula. ‘No, he’s kept a very low profile. Rumour has it he’s seeing some millionaire’s wife.’
*
The next morning Treweham Hall was a hive of activity, with every member of staff busy about his or her duties. Megan was dressed in a navy-blue trouser suit with a ‘tour guide’ badge pinned to the collar. Tobias couldn’t help but smile at now nervous she was. He ducked his head to read her badge. ‘You’re a little more than a tour guide, Megan.’
‘What? Do you think it should say “chief tour guide”?’
‘No. I was thinking that as the future Lady Cavendish-Blake, carrying the future heir to the Treweham Hall estate, you shouldn’t need any name badge.’
Megan looked down at it and hesitated. ‘I haven’t time to discuss this now,’ she flapped.
‘Listen,’ he said in a serious tone, ‘don’t overdo it. I’ve given Henry strict orders to be close by, Sebastian will do the bulk of the tours and the kitchen staff know what they’re doing. You are there to oversee.’ He kissed her hard on the lips. ‘Got it?’
‘And where will you be?’ she asked, folding her arms.
‘The BHA inspector is coming today to look at the stable yard. Once they’ve given their approval, I can hand the whole thing over to Dylan and I’m all yours.’ He hugged her into him. ‘I know it’s manic at the moment, but it’ll soon be over, back to normal,’ he reassured into her ear.
Normal? thought Megan. What was normal nowadays?
*
‘Good morning, ladies, gentlemen and children, and welcome to Treweham Hall.’ Sebastian gave a dramatic bow, making the party of people chuckle. He was dressed in a sixteenth-century costume, complete with tights, breeches, a padded overshirt with a ruff and a large felt hat with a feather. Megan’s nerves began to settle. He was brilliant, a real performer with such charisma everyone warmed to him immediately. His idea of dressing up was genius and really added to the whole experience. ‘May I introduce my glamorous assistant, Miss Megan Taylor, the future Lady Cavendish-Blake.’ He stood aside to reveal a rather cautious Megan, who gave the most confident smile she could muster. ‘Clock the rocks,’ he said in a stage whisper, pointing to Megan’s engagement ring. Oohs and aahs echoed round the crowd, turning Megan bright pink.
‘Sebastian!’ she hissed under her breath.
‘Let me start by showing you the Billiard Room. This way, if you please.’ Sebastian led the party off down the corridor. Megan smiled to herself as she watched his feather hat high above everyone’s heads. Instead of following them she decided to check on the tearoom. Tobias had been right; the kitchen staff knew exactly what they were doing. The place was running like clockwork.
‘Hi, Megan!’ one of the girls called over. ‘Sit down and have a cup of tea.’
‘Do you know what? I think I will.’ She sat down at a small table by the window overlooking the grounds. She could just about see the new stable block in the distance to the left. She imagined Tobias and Dylan working diligently to impress the inspector.
Megan was looking forward to spending more time with Tobias. He’d been so caught up with one project or another, she couldn’t wait to be on honeymoon, destination unknown. Typically, Tobias had taken care of that, too. She marvelled at what he could achieve: Ted’s cottage, this tearoom, the stables. He was a real grafter, not the high-and-mighty lord she had supposed when first arriving in Treweham.
Tobias and Megan were to take over the south wing of Treweham Hall for their private rooms. Megan was to have a big input into the décor, and this wasn’t something Tobias would take over, he assured her. Knowing this had calmed Megan. She quite liked the idea of putting her stamp on the old rooms, really being able to turn them into her home. She also liked the idea of their private rooms not being manned by Henry, who would remain in the current quarters, tending to Beatrice and Sebastian, when he was home. Tobias had mentioned a nanny for the future, but Megan refused point-blank. The differences in their upbringing had reared its head once or twice, but each had compromised, apart from Tobias when he had absolutely insisted Megan see the family’s private doctor throughout her pregnancy and not the local village one. He could be quite domineering, she had come to learn, but then she was obstinate, too, as he had pointed out. Together they had blended as a couple and now Megan couldn’t envisage life without him. It was that simple: he was her everything. She’d even learnt to love his eccentric family; his drama-queen brother, his overindulged mother and his crabby old aunt. She wondered what their child would be like and gently stroked her bump. Her thoughts were interrupted by Sebastian’s loud, confident voice.
‘And that, ladies, gentlemen and children, concludes our tour. May I suggest light refreshments in the tearoom? Thank you and good day.’ A round of applause followed, making Megan smile again. Go, Sebastian, ever the player.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Finula enter the tearoom. Soon she was sitting next to her with tea and a cream scone.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked, looking round the room.
‘Great. Sebastian’s a star.’
‘I know. I just caught the end of his tour. By the way, I’ve picked by bridesmaid’s dress.’
‘Oh, good. What colour?’
‘A kind of bronze-brown. Is that OK?’ She looked hopeful at Megan.
‘Of course. With your colouring it’ll look amazing.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t upstage the bride.’ She nudged her playfully.
‘Thanks for that, Fin,’ replied Megan drily. ‘Still no sign of that tall, dark stranger entering your gin joint, then?’
‘Nah, not yet,’ Finula replied, munching on her scone. Pity, thought Megan, wishing her friend could enjoy the same happiness she had.
Chapter 58
Opening the envelope, Gary read the invitation and called out to his wife. ‘Tracy! Look at this!’ Tracy scurried over and read the cream card edged with gold.
‘“Lord Cavendish-Blake and Miss Taylor invite you to their wedding…” Blimey, Gary, I didn’t expect to be invited to that.’
‘Why not?’ he replied indignantly. ‘We are neighbours.’
‘Yeah, but…’ Her mind was already spinning with what to wear. Fancy her going to an aristocratic wedding – who would have thought? She pictured Sharon’s spiteful scowl and a degree of uncertainty shoved its way in. Gary picked up on it immediately.
‘Hey, don’t worry. We’ll have a ball, Trace. It was fine when they came here, wasn’t it?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘You like Megan, and Finula is bound to be there, too.’
‘Yes. You’re right.’
He put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Come on, let’s go into town and buy new outfits. We don’t want to let the side down, do we?’
All day they looked, and whilst Gary was soon fitted up with a slim-fit charcoal suit, Tracy just couldn’t find what she wanted. All the dresses had been the wrong colour, the wrong shape, too fussy, too boring, didn’t feel comfortable, didn’t look special, and Gary’s patience was wearing thin.
‘Surely there must be something you like, Trace? We’ve been in every shop!’ He was exasperated. ‘You’ll have to look on-line.’
‘No. I need to try it on. There must be somewhere else I can look,’ she persisted.
Then she saw it. The dress, staring at her in the shop window. ‘That’s it!’ she pointed. Gary turned in the direction of her finger.
‘Oxfam!’
‘Yes,’ she laughed, ‘so what?’
Shaking his head, he crossed the road, following Tracy, who had quickly run inside the shop. By the time he had entered and plonked down his shopping bags, she was in the changing room. Moments later she pulled back the curtain and his jaw dropped. She was right. It really was perfect. The fabric was silky with a silver-green background and bright floral pattern. It was sleeveless with a dipped neckline, slim fitting, tapering in at the waist and it fell just above the knee. It could have been made for her. He swallowed.
‘You look gorgeous, Tracy,’ he said gruffly, swiftly looking round to make sure nobody was listening.
‘Ah, thanks, Gary,’ she chirped, swaying round in front of the mirror. Then, turning to him she said, with as straight a face as possible, ‘Can we afford it?’
Chapter 59
Flora could hardly contain herself as Dylan drove his Jeep to the new training yard. He looked sideways at her and grinned.
‘You excited?’
‘Too right. I can’t wait to see it.’ She fidgeted in the passenger seat, itching to get out and explore her new place of work. They went through the new side entrance nearest to the stables, instead of having to pass along the main drive. And there it was.
Flora’s eyes widened. ‘Dylan, it’s fabulous!’
‘I know,’ he answered rather smugly. As far as racehorse training yards went, it was the very latest in design. A circular track had been made with rails running alongside in the field next to the yard, and an all-weather woodchip gallop for faster work on the horses ran along the far stretch. The stables could accommodate up to thirty horses. Dylan clearly intended to grow his yard into a thriving business.
Flora’s hands flew to her face. ‘Oh my God…’ She couldn’t take it all in. Dylan delighted in seeing the effect it had on her and showing it all off gave him a real buzz. ‘The BHA officer passed it with flying colours.’
‘I’m not surprised. You’d have to be mad not to want your horse here.’
Dylan nodded in agreement.
‘We’ve shown a few owners around and it looks promising. Hopefully in a few years we’ll be working at full capacity.’
‘We’ll need more staff.’ She looked directly at him.
‘I know, and we’ll get them, don’t worry.’
Flora set off for the stables to see the horses that had arrived earlier that day. It had been almost two weeks since she’d ridden and she was anxious to get back in the saddle. Dylan had kept her away until Samantha’s horses had been safely delivered, on the off chance Samantha may put in an appearance. The last thing he needed at this sensitive stage was the likes of Samantha putting a spanner in the works. Flora was just on the verge of trusting him again. He had loved her living with him and for the first time in a long while had felt fully content. The thought of her leaving filled him with unease. ‘I’ll tack up and ride,’ she said with gusto.
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ he reproached. Flora had only just fully recovered. He could see she was still a little weak. ‘Maybe next week and then only for an hour a day.’
‘Stop fussing. I’m fine.’ She pushed the stable door open and went inside. ‘They’re beautiful. What are they called?’ She gazed at their shiny, chestnut coats and thick black manes.
‘Zero Libido and Femme Fatale are their registered names,’ Dylan almost choked on the irony, ‘otherwise known as Libby and Femme.’
Flora stroked Libby’s flanks, which were deep and wide, ultimate breeding stock. Dylan watched Flora examine the horses; she was a true professional. One or two people had raised an eyebrow at him choosing Flora for an assistant trainer, but he was absolutely certain she had the ability.
As if in proof, she took out a piece of paper from her coat pocket. ‘I’ve drawn up a daily routine for us.’ She handed it to Dylan who read it with interest.
5.30 a.m. feed horses, check for heat/swelling in legs.
Muck out stables.
Tack up horses, mount and exercise – exercises for each individual horse to be discussed.
Discuss racing plans with owners and speak to agents regarding jockey bookings.
Late afternoon exercise.
5 p.m. feed and check horses.
8 p.m. check yard and check all horses are content for evening.
What a woman! He couldn’t have done a more thorough job himself. ‘Excellent.’ Flora smiled with relief.
‘I think each horse should have one rest day a week.’
‘I agree. I’m arranging a full blood analysis of each horse, too.’
‘How often?’
‘Twice a year.’
The two were on the same wavelength. Dylan didn’t doubt they’d make a good partnership. ‘Come through to the office. There’s the yard staff to meet.’ Flora braced herself: this was the only part she’d been reluctant about. Taking a steady breath, she stepped into the office with Dylan behind her. Two girls and a boy who looked to be of a similar age to her stood up to greet them.
‘Sit down, please,’ Flora said, quickly joining them in the seated area where two settees faced each other. A coffee table stood in the middle with various horse and racing magazines on.
‘This is Abbey, Mel and Josh,’ Dylan introduced, ‘and this is the assistant trainer, Flora.’ Flora shook hands with them all. Keen to get going, Flora showed them her draft daily roster. They all looked happy with the arrangements.
‘Of course it’s flexible,’ she was eager to point out.
‘It all looks fine to me,’ Josh said, smiling widely straight into Flora’s eyes. His eyes then travelled lower to her cleavage, then back up to her face. Dylan caught the moment, however brief, and stared him out coolly. Coughing, Josh quickly turned to the two girls, ‘What do you say?’
‘Yes, it’s great,’ they trilled, clearly as excited to be there as Flora was. It must seem like heaven compared to Sean Fox’s regime, thought Dylan.
After sharing a coffee and a chat, Dylan asked Flora to show the girls Libby and Femme and prepare the stables for the rest of the horses being delivered, leaving him alone with Josh.
‘Just one thing,’ Dylan sat opposite Josh, ‘if you want to keep working here, then stay away from Flora.’ His eyes pierced into him like chips of ice. Josh blushed and shifted awkwardly.
‘Ah, I see. You and she are…’
‘Absolutely,’ stated Dylan forcefully, leaving no room for any misunderstanding.
Flora, Abbey and Mel gelled well together mucking out the stables and arranging the hay and water for the new horses arriving. Flora’s love of horses meant she would always be happy working in stables, but she knew giving orders instead of taking them would take some adjusting to. She yearned to saddle up and gallop through the fields, despite Dylan’s advice.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ he warned behind her, catching her reaching for a saddle in the tack room. She jumped at the sound of his voice.
‘Trust you to be there,’ she laughed.
‘Seriously, Flora, I’ll ride with you next week. Just wait a few more days. Remember, these are extremely valuable horses.’
‘OK, OK,’ she conceded with disappointment.
‘Come on, I need to see Tobias.’ He guided her out into the yard and together they walked up to Treweham Hall.
Flora had only been inside the Hall once before when looking at the plans for the training yard. Its sheer opulence filled her with awe.
Megan came dashing down the passageway. ‘Dylan, while you’re here, let me give you this.’ She handed him a cream envelope. ‘Invitation to the wedding.’ She beamed at Flora. ‘Tobias is in his study, go through.’ She ushered them in. Tobias was sitting at his desk working on his computer.
‘Come in, Dylan. Flora, what do you think then?’ He was, of course, referring to the yard.
&nbs
p; ‘Amazing,’ she gushed. Dylan put his arms round her shoulders.
‘I’m sure we’ll be very happy there, won’t we?’ Those striking blue eyes twinkled roguishly.
‘I’m sure we will,’ she answered.
Chapter 60
It was the night before the wedding. The whole of Treweham village was on high alert. The press had started to set up outside the Hall, and The Templar was heaving. As predicted, the media was keen to snap ‘the Heir and the Fox’ on such a momentous day. It was big news that Lord Cavendish-Blake was finally getting married after years of hellraising. His old chum Seamus was fulfilling his duty as best man. Megan was overwhelmed by the attention, choosing to stay behind closed doors until the next morning when the horse and carriage, with Dylan at the reins, was to collect her. She was determined to remain calm and enjoy the whole experience, however threatening it was. Her mum, dad and brother were staying at The Templar. Kate, her old work friend, was driving up that night, too. She hadn’t been able to get the day off work, so would be booking into The Templar much later. Tonight would be Megan’s last night in the cottage. Her mum and Finula were to spend the evening with her, tucked away from prying eyes and flashing cameras.
Megan couldn’t fail to see the articles and coverage that the impending wedding had attracted. Tobias’ history had once more been dragged up and splashed over the papers for all and sundry to read. Megan cringed at the tabloids’ headlines:
Playboy Lord Finally Weds
Lord Cavendish-Blake-the-Rake to Marry
She was beginning to comprehend what Tobias had had to tolerate, fully understanding his need to visit and prepare Carrie’s parents in France. Tobias knew exactly what to expect. He foresaw the reporters, with their cameras and microphones, intruding on the village, pestering the locals, desperate for any quick shot of him or Megan they could muster. Megan had been distressed initially, until Tobias had ramped up the security surrounding the Hall and her cottage. For the moment all was quiet.