Tempted by Trouble

by Liz Fielding

  On the downside, it was the day she tackled the business end of life. Paid bills. Dealt with ‘stuff’. She didn’t enjoy it but, having lived with the results of her grandmother sticking her head in the sand and not dealing with it, she never put it off.

  First thing every Monday morning, she holed up in the little office she’d made for herself in a bedroom which, back in the days when the Amery name was respected, had been the quarters of a live-in maid. At her desk, she could pretend that she was running her own business. Nothing huge. She’d never had her sister’s ambition. But doing the accounts, balancing the books, planning menus, shopping lists, she could, for an hour a week, lose herself.

  Today, thanks to Great-Uncle Basil, there was more ‘stuff’ than usual. Messages to deal with. Appointments to cancel. No time for dreaming.

  Having balanced the weekly accounts, checking every detail to make sure that nothing had been overlooked, she picked up the bells-and-whistles phone that had caught Sorrel’s eye, turned it on and started with the most urgent of the messages.

  ‘Basil?’ a hard male voice snapped before she could speak. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Actually, I’m not Basil,’ Elle said. ‘My name is Lovage Amery…’ it had to be the first time she’d voluntarily used the name but it had a rather more authoritative ring to it than Elle ‘…and I’m responding to a message left on his phone. Who am I speaking to?’

  Always get a name. Make a note of any phone call. Confirm the relevant points in writing. Hard-learned lessons.

  ‘Sutherland. Sutherland Productions,’ he said impatiently. She wrote it down. ‘Tell Basil I need the van in Upper Haughton at eight o’clock on Tuesday morning. We’ve got to shoot these outdoor scenes while the weather holds.’ Scenes?

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Sutherland. Basil has been called away and he won’t be available—’

  ‘What do you mean, called away? Who are you?’

  ‘Lovage Amery,’ she repeated.

  ‘You’re what? His wife, daughter?’

  ‘Niece.’ Allegedly.

  ‘Well, Lovage, here’s the bottom line. Your uncle signed a contract with my production company. What’s more, he took a deposit.’

  Her heart missed a beat. ‘But he’s not here,’ she said, doing her best to keep calm. ‘He’s away on business.’

  ‘Did he take the van with him?’

  ‘Well, no—’

  ‘Then what’s the problem? The contract’s for the van, a driver and a full load of ice cream. Just make sure it’s in Upper Haughton at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.’

  ‘But you don’t understand—’

  ‘No, love, you don’t understand. If the van’s not there, on time, ready to go on Tuesday morning, he’s going to be responsible for all costs involved in finding a replacement.’

  Elle felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. ‘Costs?’

  ‘The film crew, the actors on standby and if I lose the weather—’

  Actors? What on earth had Basil got her into?

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘Don’t be late.’

  ‘Can you tell me how long it’s likely to take?’ she said quickly before he hung up.

  ‘I’ve booked the van for the whole day, but an hour should do it, love,’ he said, and then she was listening to the dialling tone.

  Elle put down the phone and said, ‘Lovage. It’s Lovage.’ Then she tucked her hands beneath her arms to stop them shaking.

  Her first call and already she was being threatened with the law by some bully of a man Basil had signed a contract with. Taken money from. Who called her ‘love’.

  And there were dozens of messages…

  She made it to the bathroom before she threw up, sank down onto the floor, head on her knees, arms around her legs, shivering. ‘Elle…?’

  She gathered herself, looked up, saw the fear in her grandmother’s eyes.

  ‘It’s okay, Gran. Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ she said, pushing herself to her feet. Her legs still felt wobbly hollow, but she managed a smile. ‘Just something I ate. I’m feeling much better now.’

  Angry was better than sick. And she was very angry.

  Angry with Sean, who’d mesmerised her with those blue eyes. Even when she doubted him, doubted Basil, she’d fallen under his spell.

  Angry with herself for bothering to explain her trust issues as if she was in the wrong for doubting him, instead of sticking with her instincts, questioning his motives.

  Angry that she’d allowed sentiment to override her natural caution. Or was it simply lust turning her brain to mush? A genetic flaw…

  It took her nearly an hour to return calls, check the diary for the next couple of months. Follow up bookings. And when she was done she had a list of dates, places, names and phone numbers of more than a dozen people who Basil had taken money from. Who expected Rosie to turn up and do her stuff. Seven birthday parties, not all of them for children, a silver wedding anniversary, a hen night, a wedding, a company party, a retirement and the film company. So much ‘fun’.

  Not.

  Just a logistical nightmare to fit in around her working schedule.

  As if that hadn’t been enough, the post had brought Rosie’s new logbook, proving that this hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing.

  It would have taken the licensing authority a minimum of a week to turn that around.

  Basil had planned this. He’d taken deposits to fund his flight and now either she, or her grandmother, was Rosie’s registered keeper. It made no difference. Elle, as always, was the one who’d have to deal with the fallout.

  ‘Thanks! Thanks a bunch!’

  Sean was looking at proposals for the new treetop walk laid out on the map table when Elle burst into his office.

  Her cheeks were flushed, her hair looked as if she’d been combing it with a pencil—or maybe a pen since she appeared to have a streak of ink at her temple—and her hazel eyes were blazing with golden sparks that lit up his office like the sun coming out on a dull day.

  ‘Lovage…’ The name suited her so much better than the bland ‘Elle’. Felt so right on his tongue.

  A seething little noise escaped her lips. ‘Don’t you dare “Lovage” me. I am Elle. Elle for livid.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sean.’ Jess, the estate secretary, hurried in after her but he shook his head, waved her off. She shrugged and left the room.

  The surveyor, avoiding his eyes, rolled up his drawings. ‘I’ll take a look at this and get back to you later in the week, Sean,’ he said, visibly smirking as he shut the door on his way out.

  Not surprising. She looked like a brown hen he’d kept as a boy, her feathers ruffled up when the cockerel had taken liberties.

  He fought the smile. She was mad enough already.

  ‘Problem?’ he asked.

  ‘You could say that. I’ve got a television producer threatening to sue me if I don’t turn up tomorrow on set with a full load of ice cream. Apparently, Basil not only signed a contract, he took a deposit,’ she threw at him.

  Any desire to laugh left him. He’d stood bail for the man’s character and he’d let them both down.

  ‘It’s not the only one.’ She leaned against the map table, as if standing up was suddenly too much effort, and he turned a chair, took her arm and eased her into it. ‘I’ve spent half the morning going through his messages, his diary,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘He’s taken deposits for at least a dozen other events and while no one else, apart from the bride, is threatening to sue, they do all want Rosie, or their money back.’

  He could have said a dozen things but while most of them would have made him feel better, none of them would have been of any use to Lovage.

  ‘Well, that explains why he didn’t leave her with me,’ he said grimly.

  ‘Does it? What difference would it have made?’ she asked wanly.

 
‘I’d have told them to sue.’

  She swallowed, even paler now. ‘I can’t do that.’

  No. He’d got the message. Loud and clear. Basil was family and, while he might be a liability, he was her liability. Family was something to be cherished, protected.

  It wasn’t something he’d ever encountered on a personal level—he’d just been a problem. One that he’d had to solve in his own way.

  ‘You didn’t sign the contracts,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Maybe not and, to be honest, I’m not quite sure how I stand legally with everyone else but the film company contracted for Rosie. And she’s now officially registered to me.’

  ‘Would you like me to speak to them?’

  She shook her head. ‘The film producer isn’t going to make my Christmas card list but where else is he going to get another Rosie at such short notice? It’s just an hour of my time.’

  ‘If you say so. What about the rest of the bookings?’

  ‘I don’t have the money to pay back the deposits,’ she said. ‘And the bride cried.’

  ‘I’ll bet she did,’ he muttered.

  ‘No… When her husband-to-be bought ice creams on their first date he gave her his chocolate flake. She knew right then and there that he was the one and only,’ she explained.

  ‘He probably doesn’t like chocolate.’

  ‘Sean!’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Anyway, she wants to give him hers. It’s to be a surprise. At their wedding,’ she said.

  ‘And I’ll bet you cried when she told you that,’ he said knowingly, folding himself up in front of her so that she didn’t have to look up.

  ‘No… Yes… Stupid.’ She blinked, close to tears now, and he took her hands in his. They felt ridiculously small and they were shaking. And why wouldn’t they? She’d been dumped on, threatened and been made responsible for fulfilling Basil’s promises. Or paying back the deposits he’d taken.

  And Sean had been an unwitting accessory.

  Grasping her hands tightly to hold them steady, to reassure her that he wasn’t going to abandon her to deal with this on her own, he said, ‘Not stupid.’ It wouldn’t have done it for him, but he appeared to be in a minority of one when it came to the prospect of happy ever after. ‘It’s her big day and if she wants an ice cream van to make it perfect then she must have it. Just tell me what I can do.’

  ‘Find Basil?’ She raised long dark lashes. They were clumped together with the tears she hadn’t been able to hold back and he lifted a thumb to wipe away one that had escaped, his hand lingering to cradle her cheek.

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ he promised, ‘but he could be anywhere.’

  ‘Probably not in a duck pond, though,’ she said, her mouth tucking up at the corners, a precursor to a smile.

  ‘Probably not,’ he agreed wryly. ‘Did you have any luck with finding out what RSG means?’

  She shook her head. ‘I did wonder if it might be short for some casino where they were holding a high stakes game?’

  ‘We seem to be thinking along the same lines,’ he said. ‘I’m beginning to have some sympathy with your grandfather cutting Basil out of his life.’

  ‘He doesn’t need your sympathy and neither do I,’ she said. ‘What I do need is a lesson in how to run the ice cream machine. It won’t wait until Saturday.’

  ‘That’s why you’re here?’ Sean asked. Not to yell at him for getting her involved. Just to ask for his help?

  ‘I’m sorry but your number isn’t listed so I had to come and find you. And you’re right, Rosie is cranky, at least until I got the hang of her.’

  ‘I said she had her moods, but you’re right, cranky probably is nearer. But I don’t understand. I put my number on the message I left at the Blue Boar.’

  Elle shrugged. ‘I asked this morning, but no one could find it.’

  ‘But I gave it to…’ He shook his head.

  ‘Who?’ she demanded.

  ‘Your boss.’ He’d written a brief apology, along with his phone number, on one of the pile of paper napkins brought to mop up the spillage. ‘He probably thought I was trying to pick you up.’

  ‘Probably,’ she agreed. ‘I’ve worked there since I was eighteen. He still thinks of me as a kid needing to be protected.’

  ‘Does he? I’d have said Sorrel was nearer the mark.’

  ‘No,’ she denied, much too quickly, a hot blush searing her cheeks.

  ‘Well, you know best,’ he said shortly, rising to his feet. ‘Come on. Let’s get out of here.’

  As she got to her feet, he ushered her through the door. ‘I’ll be out of the office for an hour or two, Jess,’ he said as he passed her door.

  Elle stopped. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know what you must think of me,’ she said to his secretary.

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ His secretary gave her a knowing look. ‘I’m sure you had good cause.’

  Elle turned to him. ‘I barged into a meeting, didn’t I? I didn’t think. I was just so angry.’

  ‘Jess is right. You had good cause,’ he said, but she was frowning.

  ‘I thought you were a mechanic?’

  ‘I’m a bit of a jack of all trades,’ he said evasively.

  Jess’s eyebrows rose slightly, but all she said was, ‘Don’t forget that you’ve got a meeting with Sir Henry at one.’

  He checked his watch and turned to Elle. ‘Did you come in Rosie?’

  ‘It seemed like a good idea. Since I don’t have an ice cream machine on my bike,’ she replied, making a brave stab at sarcasm, which was a relief. Reproach he could cope with. Tears were something else. It also meant that he didn’t have to go to Longbourne.

  ‘It shouldn’t be a problem,’ he told Jess, ‘but if he turns up before I get back—’

  ‘I’ll tell him that you were called away on a matter of urgency on the far side of the estate.’

  ‘The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,’ he assured her, before pushing open the door to the courtyard where the staff vehicles—and Rosie—were parked. ‘Actually, Basil has got one of those.’

  Elle frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘A bike with an ice cream cabinet fixed to the front. The precursor of the ice cream van. He’s been cleaning it up, getting it back into working order.’ He risked a smile. ‘He’s still got some way to go.’

  She leaned against Rosie’s door. ‘You know what, Sean?’ she said, trying to match his smile but having a little trouble controlling her bottom lip. It took all his willpower not to take possession of it, still it with his tongue, make her forget all about her terrible morning. Forget everything. ‘That’s the first piece of good news I’ve had today.’

  ‘Well, let’s build on that,’ he said briskly. She hadn’t come here to pick up where they’d left off in the vanilla-scented interior of Basil’s van. She wasn’t looking for comfort either. Not the only kind he was capable of. She’d come for practical help.

  Time, he could give her.

  He’d have offered her the cash to pay back the deposits that Basil had taken if he’d thought for a minute that she’d take it. But he had seen enough of Lovage Amery to know that wasn’t the way she did things. He wasn’t going to assuage his guilt for getting her into this mess that easily.

  She was going to honour Basil’s commitments come hell or high water and if Basil Amery had walked into the yard at that moment Sean would have been hard pressed not to flatten him.

  ‘Shall I drive?’ he offered.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Somewhere we won’t have an audience lining up for handouts the minute we start up the machine.’

  Elle would normally have insisted she was capable of driving anything, anywhere, but she was still shaking. Not with rage, this time. This was far worse.

  She couldn’t shout at Basil, and kicking Rosie didn’t help. Sean had been the only person for her to yell at but, infuriatingly, he didn’t have a listed number and she hadn’t been able to pick
up the phone and demand that he come to Gable End.

  Instead, she’d struggled for ten minutes to start a very reluctant Rosie—who was undoubtedly bearing a grudge for that kick—and then driven the big van with unfamiliar gears through the narrow, winding lanes with impatient drivers hooting and gesturing furiously as she’d held them up. And there’d been no seat belt.

  She didn’t know where Sean lived on the estate, or how to find him. She’d had to stop at the main entrance and ask at the gate, where they’d directed her to the main office. More time wasted.

  By the time she’d parked behind the wing that housed the main office, caught a glimpse of him through a window looking oh, so relaxed, she’d been about ready to explode. She’d waved off the woman who’d tried to stop her, storming into the office, but then he’d turned, looked up, a smile lighting up his eyes as if he was truly pleased to see her. Said her name with that whisper-soft drawl.

  Not Elle, but Lovage.

  He was the only person who’d ever called her that and for a moment, no more than a heartbeat, she hadn’t been able to think.

  She’d gathered herself again, almost immediately, but she hadn’t been able to sustain her righteous anger. Not when he’d folded himself up before her, taken her hands so tightly in his, asked her what he could do to help. She’d just spilled it all out. She’d very nearly made a total fool of herself when she was telling him about the young bride. The girl had been so sweet, so in love. Of course Elle had cried…

  And just now, when he’d stopped beside her, all she wanted to do was lean into his strength, for once let someone else take the burden.

  But it wasn’t Sean’s problem. He’d simply delivered Rosie as requested. She would rearrange her shifts as necessary. Get it done. Move on.

  ‘Is it okay for you to just leave like this?’ she asked.

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t get the sack if the boss hears I’m hanging out with the ice cream girl in office hours,’ he assured her, unlocking the door, following her up into the cab. ‘Knowing Henry, he’d just want to come and check you out for himself.’

  Rosie started for Sean first time. No surprise there; Elle was pretty sure everything he touched started first time, including her.