‘Thank you, Nick. It’s just that… According to Roxy, Applebridge Hall isn’t the favourite to win. She suggested… Please do excuse the phrase…that somehow the Croxley family…forgive me, but, um, sex things up.’
His eyes widened.
A bubble of laughter tickled inside my chest. Oh, God—mustn’t laugh. In fact, thinking about it, this wasn’t funny at all. I was putting myself on the line here – my true identity might well and truly be rumbled. ‘I know – it’s a terribly crass idea, but I want to do everything possible to help my family. So, I was thinking that, well…’ How would he take this? Be offended? Amused? Or suss out straight away that I’m no real aristocrat? ‘… a secret affair between a Croxley and a member of staff might improve ratings.’
Nick’s mouth fell open. ‘Are you proposing, Miss, that you and I…?’
My heart raced. ‘Exactly. It would be purely for the cameras, of course, and more suggestion than action. It pains me to resort to such tactics, but my family’s heritage is at stake.’
I waited, imagining the disdain of Edward if he’d been listening, hoping that I was right in thinking that good-humoured Nick was the opposite of judgemental. The gardener stared for a moment and scratched his unshaven chin, which was kind of sexy and something you’d never find on Lord Clean-cut, Edward.
‘The Baron of Marwick sure is tough competition,’ said Nick. ‘He also announced his plans to win this afternoon. The Castle has been set up to host weekend medieval hen and stag nights, with banquets held in the dungeons. I bet they’ll get pretty crazy. During the week, he’ll host corporate team-building trips, incorporating archery and shooting. It all sounds…’
I sighed. ‘Awfully sexy.’ Oops – that wasn’t something Abbey would ever say.
‘Yeah, but… A Croxley mixing it up with a gardener? Someone who works on the land?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You can’t possibly be related to Lord Edward if you’re suggesting such a thing.’
I swallowed hard. Surely I hadn’t misjudged Nick so badly…
‘You’d better show me some form of ID, Miss,’ he said, ‘before I say something to the Earl.’
LORD EDWARD’S E-DIARY
Saturday 1st September
‘Comments’
6.15p.m. Thank you, but no, Lovehotnoble—rubber trim would probably be equally uncomfortable.
Now, duty calls – I must hurry to greet our guests. Just a quick word to say that Abigail… How long I’ve waited to see her face. I mean, erm, of course, it’s only been months since our last meeting, but nevertheless… To have her here finally… At Applebridge… It’s smashing.
Right. Anyway. Really must go. Dinner awaits.
Chapter 5
Nick and I couldn’t stop laughing. Mega phew! For one minute I really believed he’d seen through my disguise and was after a peek at my passport.
‘Desperate times call for desperate measures,’ I said eventually. ‘But honestly, Nick, I perfectly understand if you think this idea…improper.’ After all, laughs aside, this was all an act to me but it was Nick’s real life – he could lose his job.
I caught sight of a designer logo on the bottom of his T-shirt and recognized his cologne as an expensive brand I’d once sniffed when out with a boyfriend. Nick struck me as a bit glam for a gardener.
‘Consider me in, Miss,’ he said.
‘You’re sure?’ I raised my eyebrows, giving him one last chance to back out. Although I could sense that, unlike Edward, a major drive in Nick’s life was fun; I reckoned we would really get along.
‘One hundred per cent!’ he said. ‘How do you suggest we get things started?’
‘Slowly.’ I backed up against the crimson-painted wall, as Nick had leant forward to keep our voices and plans ultra secret. ‘Perhaps a look here, a touch there – although, having said that, we only have two weeks.’ Footsteps sounded from the bottom of the staircase.
‘Better get things moving, then,’ whispered Nick. ‘A friend of mine knows a Z-list celebrity who trades off winding up photographers that he’s having all sorts of affairs. His specialty is this dud kiss – I can show you if you like. We’ll need to practice…’
Before I knew it, he’d placed a hand over my mouth and bowed forward to snog his knuckles. But still, it wasn’t a bad idea—from behind him it must have looked mega realistic. And Nick did smell good. It was a while since I’d been this close to a man, especially one who had no ulterior motive. With easy-going Nick, it felt kind of comfortable, until…. uh oh! I could hardly breathe now, seeing as he’d taken me by surprise and I’d had no time to fill my lungs with air.
‘Unhand her, you scoundrel!’ hissed Edward, who’d appeared from downstairs. He climbed the steps towards us, two at a time, appearing even taller than usual. Nick backed off immediately and I gasped for breath.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, man?’ Eyes blazing, Edward grabbed the gardener’s shoulder. ‘Pack your things this instant and leave. I won’t have you disrespect my cousin!’
‘Look, Edward,’ I said, heart thumping, ‘let me explain…’ Wow, no one had ever rushed to my side to protect me. My brothers and dad thought me well capable of looking after myself—which I was. But still… This mansion must have brought out the damsel in me!
A few minutes later a snarl still crossed Edward’s lips as he stared at Nick. ‘Tell me that again, Cousin. And you’d better hurry up…’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s almost six-thirty. Our dinner guests have been shown in and are waiting for us.’
‘Nick, um, used to be a dental technician,’ I said, repeating the rapidly made-up excuse while trying not to ogle my supposed cousin in his tux. ‘One of my teeth was hurting and Nick very kindly agreed to take a look.’
Knights in shining armour were all very well, but jeez, Edward obviously didn’t believe in the process of verbal or written warnings before firing staff members. Although it was kind of sweet. My heart still beat madly. I’d always found loyalty to family and friends mega attractive.
I stared from Edward to Nick, who stood like two spitting hyenas. Perhaps they had more in common than I suspected. Yet, heroics aside, I reckoned Edward would be much harder to live with than laidback, up-for-a-laugh Nick.
‘Yep, Miss Croxley’s, erm, got an ulcer,’ said the gardener and folded his arms. ‘Seems like Your Lordship got the wrong end of the stick. So, if you’ll excuse me, I must change into my outfit to help out at dinner.’ Nick turned to me and winked. ‘I’d gargle with salt water, miss,’ he said, and disappeared up the stairs.
‘Was he bothering you?’ said Edward.
‘Not at all.’ I moved away from the wall and brushed down my dress.
‘Stay away from Nick,’ said Edward. ‘He’s a shifty chap.’
‘With respect, Cousin, who are you to order me around?’ Well, Abbey often demonstrated that being a lady wasn’t about being a doormat. It was awesome, listening to her on the phone if someone dared call pretending to be our energy company or acting as if they could give her a better mortgage deal.
Edward’s eyes narrowed. ‘There’s something in his expression—a total lack of respect.’
Yeah, well, not everyone’s in awe of the aristocracy.
‘Right, Abigail, let’s go downstairs,’ he said, his tone bringing an abrupt end to the incident. ‘Viscount Hamilton-Brown and his family have waited long enough…along with the camera crew and production staff,’ he added, a hint of resignation tainting his voice.
I took a deep breath. This dinner party was the first real test of whether I could behave like a lady. If I couldn’t get through this evening without embarrassing myself, then there was no point carrying on with the whole charade. We walked down to the ground floor and came to a door at the front right hand side of the house. It seemed strange, Nick going to the top floor to change, but Lady C had explained that, despite the phrase ‘upstairs and downstairs’, at different points in history it was nothing strange for servants to live ‘up in the go
ds’. In fact she’d crammed a lot of information into a few days, including a summary of European royals – ooh, of all the places to live, glam Monaco was now top of my list.
‘That’s the Low Drawing Room,’ said Edward. ‘Perhaps you remember it from your last visit.’
‘Cousin— I was only nine.’ Without asking, I ducked inside for a moment and spied furniture with carved animal legs – how amazin’! And just look at the mega detailed fireplace and classy chandelier… However, the spooky grandfather clock creeped me out and seemed better suited to the set of a haunted house horror film.
On closer inspection, I could see that the rugs were worn and wall carvings chipped. Plus the tiled floor was cracked, the tapestries faded and one corner of the ceiling showed signs of damp. It was like stepping back in time, what with no telly or computer and no comfy bean bag or gaming chair to chill out on.
‘This used to be where the Croxleys received run-of-the-mill guests,’ he said. ‘VIPs were received upstairs, in the High Drawing Room.’
‘Like who?’ I said.
‘Depends on the era— military men, politicians, foreign statesmen, people from the world of entertainment… Noel Coward, the playwright, visited my great-grandparents – like him, they adored jazz.’
We left the room and made our way down a dark mahogany-panelled corridor, eventually coming to another door, on the right.
‘That leads to the library,’ said Edward, ‘which is opposite…’ we entered a room on the left ‘…the Drake Diner.’
Wow. It stretched across the back of the house, with patio doors opening onto the cute courtyard. I gawped at the oak panelling all the way up to the ornate ceiling and admired the family coat of arms and gold-framed landscapes… I’d never been in a place like this without a ticket and tour guide. Feeling as out of place as a pop star at the Proms, I fiddled with my watch. Edward glanced sideways.
‘You look, um, quite satisfactory, Cousin,’ he said. ‘Come on—let me introduce you to our friends.’
Jeez, Edward was in no danger of overdoing the compliments! But I was beginning to realize that, with him, less was more. And at least he was no different with anyone else. This included the gushing Mrs Viscount – yes, I really did call her that – well, I’d never come across the word, apart from when Dad used to buy these wrapped minty chocolate biscuits. How was I supposed to know it was ‘Viscountess’? Edward announced that her brooch was ‘an interesting size’ and then commented on the Viscount’s ‘unusual’ tie. Yet a large dollop of charm did appear when he talked to their sophisticated daughter, the Honourable Henrietta Hamilton-Brown. Edward admired her brunette hair, swept up into a high bun. He said it looked ‘delightful’—then ruined it by chatting to her about the state of the Euro. Borrrrrring.
‘It’s super to meet some of your wider family, James,’ said the Viscountess to the Earl as we sat at the long dining table in padded tapestry chairs.
I squished back comfortably and did my best not to stare at the big fluffy mic the sound guy had just manoeuvred over our heads. ‘James’ sat at one end of the table, in between the Viscount – Ernest, as he insisted I call him – and his wife, Annabel. Next to her was Henrietta, with me and Edward opposite. My Uncle Pete would have loved this table for pasting his wallpaper on. It must have seated, ooh… at least twenty toffs.
I tipped my chair back (a habit I’ve always had) and smiled across at Annabel. Right, time to have a crack at conversation. I didn’t fancy politics or the recession. That left personal stuff and the weather.
‘Have you had to travel far this evening?’ I asked.
‘Only for an hour,’ she said. ‘The last half of the journey was through such heavenly countryside.’
‘We adore visiting here,’ said Henrietta and beamed at Edward. ‘Tell me, what’s the state of apple prices this year? Are they still in the doldrums because of the economic downturn?’
I did my best to look brainy as they discussed, in great detail, when it would be best to bring contract workers into the orchards. Henrietta’s comments sounded so eloquent. How delicately she sipped her wine. He even let her straighten his tie. Jeez, she was like some automated Stepford wife!
‘And how’s the car boot business?’ she said.
‘Not bad,’ said Edward. He caught my eye. ‘I rent out the acres of land that stretch to the left, behind the maze.’
‘Ah, for that summer rock festival?’ I said.
‘Yes. Plus several funfairs that tour through here each year.’
‘And a bloomin’ mess they make as well,’ interrupted the Earl, a grimace contorting his jowls.
Edward sighed. ‘But needs must, Father. Along with renting out the land for car boot sales, it brings in something of a steady income.’
‘Sounds like a lot of work to organise,’ I said.
‘When it comes to this estate, Edward is terribly industrious.’ Henrietta smiled. ‘When he inherits, there’s no doubt in my mind that he will do his ancestors and the Croxley tradition proud.’
You’d think such a compliment would bring a smile to his face. Instead, Edward loosened his tie and bit his lip, his eyes dulling for a second. However, the moment soon passed and, as the two friends chatted, my ears perked up at the mention of a Lieutenant Robert Mayhew.
‘Is that the Lieutenant Robert Mayhew?’ I said, interrupting their conversation – soz, Lady C, but I couldn’t contain my interest. ‘My, um… flatmate Gemma calls him “the Forces Pin-up”. Didn’t he make it back from Afghanistan, despite gun wounds and second degree burns?’
Henrietta smiled. ‘Edward went to school with Robert. They are the best of friends.’
‘Such a courageous—’ read that as gorgeous ‘—person,’ I said, ‘returning to that burning vehicle.’
Edward smiled. ‘Only a madman like Rob would go back in when he was drenched in fuel. Apart from his helmet, Rob’s uniform was in ashes by the time he’d hauled everyone else out.’
‘Terribly modest about it all, wasn’t he?’ I said.
Edward shrugged. ‘He says, just like thousands of other troops, he was simply doing his job.’
‘He’s organized a big charity ball next month,’ said Henrietta, ‘to raise money for injured soldiers. He’ll be pleased to see you there, Edward.’
‘It should be a wonderful evening,’ said Annabel.
‘Damn brave lad,’ said the Earl. Ernest grunted his agreement.
‘I remember the first time I met him,’ said Henrietta. ‘It was at your twenty-first birthday party, Edward; do you remember?’
‘Rob was home on leave and danced with anything in a skirt. Even Dundee Douglas, who’d put on his kilt.’
‘Your mother always thought him a decent chap,’ said the Earl to Edward, ‘even when he led you astray at school by suggesting you skip school for the cinema. Rosemary wouldn’t hear a bad word against him.’
Henrietta put her hand on Edward’s. A display of emotion like that, in public, must have meant they were really good friends, or even…? For some reason, an uncomfortable twinge niggled my stomach.
‘Poor you, Edward,’ she said. ‘Those afternoons at the pictures couldn’t have possibly been your idea.’
‘Son?’ The Earl raised his eyebrows. ‘All these years poor Robert took the blame?’
Edward grinned and rubbed the back of his neck.
My stomach tingled. A smile on Edward’s lips was a rare thing and, for a few seconds, made him look a decade younger. Just then, in tailcoats and a butler’s jacket, Nick entered through a door from the left hand side and the pantry, cellars and kitchens. He’d combed his hair over into a greased-down side-parting and winked at me as if to say: ‘this geeky look is deliberate’. His hand brushed against mine as he poured my wine. Clearly, he took my Plan Sex-up seriously. Edward stared at me, only turning away when the starter arrived. I swallowed. This was going to be hard – clinically putting on a show, pretending not to care what other people thought about my actions or about me.
‘Asparagus?’ Henrietta put her napkin on her lap. ‘My favourite. Kathleen really is a treasure. I assume she froze these, freshly picked from your garden. What a joy to eat them out of season.’
Phew! Good thing Lady C had taught me how to eat these green monstrosities that looked like witch’s fingers. They lay on a bed of lettuce and were sprinkled with chopped red stuff. I picked one up. Euw. There was only meant to be sauce on the ends but these were slippery all over and had obviously been…’
‘Marinated,’ said Henrietta, daintily cutting them up with a knife and fork. ‘Quite lovely.’
‘Have you been away on holiday this year, Annabel?’ I said, hoping no one saw me quickly wipe my fingers on a napkin.
While she described her mega Caribbean cruise, I dug into my starter, suddenly starving, doing my best to chew with my mouth closed and not talk with it full. My only faux pas (impressive, eh? Lady C even taught me French) was eating the bed of lettuce. Well, how was I to know it was a garnish? Perhaps the rabbit dish would be easier. Certainly it smelt yummy, with gravy-covered chunks of meat, served with mushrooms, roasted cherry tomatoes and baby onions.
‘No haggis tonight, then? That’s a change,’ said Annabel. Eyes twinkling, she glanced at me. ‘Kathleen is fiercely proud of her Scottish roots.’
‘She is making a special effort to cook English meals for the cameras,’ said the Earl. ‘No doubt in two weeks it will be back to normal.’
‘Whatever that will be,’ muttered Edward. He cleared his throat. ‘So, tell me, Henrietta, all about this local animal charity you have recently become patron of.’
Carefully I chewed each morsel and, without dribbling, managed to chat to the Viscountess (Mrs Minty Chocolate Biscuit). We swapped opinions about the Royals (K-Mid of course and the awesome Diamond Jubilee celebrations). It couldn’t have gone better until I plunged my fork into one of the tiny onions.
I caught its side and the shiny ball flew into the air, at speed, across the table. Shiiit. It landed right on top of Henrietta’s head and, like an egg in a nest, settled in her bun. The camera zoomed in. Eerily, everyone stayed silent. No one swore or shrieked. Clearly, they knew Lady C’s rule about staying as cool as a cucumber. I glanced at the Earl, who had put down his pipe.
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