‘Very good old cheese,’ she said, tasting it.
Harriet took a long, affectionate look at the house while they ate in surprisingly comfortable silence for a minute or two. Edenhurst’s limestone architecture was typical of the area, with dips built into the steeply pitched roof to keep the tiles in place, and small-paned casement windows protected by stone mullions and drip-courses. But Harriet felt a sudden, sharp stab of nostalgia. Now it was restored and renovated as a luxury hotel, with park-perfect gardens, Edenhurst wore an air of affluence very different from the shabby charm of the past.
‘What are you thinking?’ said James.
‘That in some ways I preferred the house the way it was when I first came here.’
He smiled wryly. ‘A romantic viewpoint! To me it was an endless juggle of resources in those days, to decide which repair to do next.’
‘Tim told me that.’ Harriet cast a glance at him as she took another sandwich. ‘My grandmother was deeply impressed by the way you tackled the problem.’
‘So she told me. She was a very special lady.’ His mouth turned down. ‘It went against the grain to part with any family possessions, but I had no choice. Then I had a stroke of luck when a college friend put some capital in with mine to found the company.’ He shook his head reminiscently. ‘God, how we worked—twenty hours a day in the beginning.’
‘It certainly paid off. The rest is history.’ Harriet smiled crookedly. ‘You know, it amazes me that this is happening.’
‘You and me, alone, breaking bread together?’
‘Exactly.’
His eyes glinted as he refilled her glass. ‘Even though I’m the wicked squire trying to evict you from your home?’
‘Trying to tempt me out of it with an inflated offer!’
‘Not inflated at all. End House possesses a larger garden than its neighbours, remember, plus a conservatory.’
Harriet sighed. ‘My friend thinks I’m mad to refuse such a good offer, but it’s hard to part with the house. It’s been my home for a long time. Besides, selling it is too much like a final break from my grandmother—who was a practical soul, and would laugh me out of court for being so sentimental.’
‘I see your point.’ James looked at her searchingly. ‘But if selling is out of the question are you thinking of letting it instead?’
‘I did consider that, but a solicitor friend of mine pointed out some of the drawbacks of being a landlord.’ She sighed. ‘If I thought I could get work in the area I’d live at End House myself.’
‘You might find life in Upcote a little quiet after London, so think it over very carefully before you make a decision,’ he advised.
‘I came down here to do just that. But it means a week less for my holiday in Italy with Tim later on,’ added Harriet with regret.
‘Tim told me he’s persuaded you to go to La Fattoria at last.’ James frowned. ‘Doesn’t he mind that you’re cutting the holiday short?’
‘Only my part of it.’ Harriet shrugged. ‘Tim’s going on ahead for the first week. He doesn’t mind.’
‘Because where Tim’s concerned you can do no wrong.’
She put her glass down on the tray with a click. ‘You just don’t understand my relationship with Tim. We don’t live in each other’s pockets. If he wants to do something independently I’m perfectly happy with that, and the reverse also applies.’
James shook his head. ‘I’d be anything but happy in the same circumstances.’
‘Really?’ said Harriet sweetly. ‘If that was your attitude with Madeleine no wonder she took off.’
He got up, his handsome face suddenly blank as he stacked the remains of their lunch on the tray. ‘You know nothing about my marriage, young lady.’
‘No, indeed—I beg your pardon.’ Harriet jumped to her feet, her face hot. ‘I’d better go.’
‘Why? What’s so pressing at End House that you can’t stay for coffee?’ He smiled a little, his eyes warming again. ‘You know how easy it is to get service round here. I just wave my wand.’
Harriet shook her head. ‘No, thanks.’
‘Then I’ll walk you home.’
‘Unnecessary.’
James raised an eyebrow. ‘Truce over already?’
‘Of course not. It’s only practical to keep on civil terms.’ She gave him a direct look. ‘If only for Tim’s sake.’
‘Point taken. By the way,’ he added, ‘Tim’s been throwing out hints about a wedding.’
‘It’s far too soon to talk about that.’
James shrugged. ‘He’ll tell me soon enough when you name the day. He couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. He’ll be pleased that we had lunch together,’ he added.
‘I’m sure he will.’ She smiled politely. ‘Thank you. It was delicious.’
‘My pleasure. I take a walk round the grounds every morning when I’m here, but I’ve never been lucky enough to meet a fair maiden in need of rescue before.’
‘At one time I could hop across those stones with no trouble at all.’ She pulled a face. ‘My sense of balance was better when I was thirteen.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘I apologise for trying to turn Tim off you all those years ago, Harriet. I just wanted to give him some back-up with the village lads when you weren’t around. Without you he was always like a lost soul.’ The familiar tawny eyes, so like and yet so unlike Tim’s, held hers. ‘Am I forgiven?’
‘Of course,’ she said lightly. ‘Goodbye.’
Harriet chose the more formal route home via the main gates in preference to getting her feet wet again, called in at the village stores to buy another newspaper, and walked back to End House deep in thought. The unexpected picnic had by no means been an ordeal. For most of the time the atmosphere over lunch had been relatively amicable. And Tim would be delighted that she’d thawed even a little towards his brother. Not that she was likely to see more of James while she was here. She knew from Tim that to keep his staff on their toes James made brief unheralded visits to all his properties and at Edenhurst the stable block had been converted into private quarters for the Devereux brothers. But James was the only one to use them. Tim had taken to metropolitan life like a duck to water and kept well away from Edenhurst now it was a hotel.
The two brothers, thought Harriet, could hardly be less alike. Tim was slight and fair, with boyish good looks and a natural charm that made women yearn to mother him. Her lips curved in a cynical smile. Of all the emotions James Devereux stirred up in the opposite sex, maternal leanings probably never made the list.
CHAPTER TWO
HARRIET found a note pushed through the door when she got back to End House.
‘Harriet, if you’re here for the week will you want me on Monday as usual? Regards, Stacy.’
Harriet was more than capable of looking after one small house for a week, especially on her own, without the mayhem Dido created in their London flat. But because Stacy Dyer was a single parent who needed the money Harriet rang to ask her to come in as usual.
After spending the rest of the day in the sunshine in the back garden Harriet had an early night, and next morning, in contrast to the hectic rush of London routine, she read in bed for a while before getting up to enjoy a leisurely bath. But as she lingered over breakfast later she felt a touch of panic. What was she going to do for the rest of the day, let alone the rest of the week? After all her fine talk about living here it was a bit of a blow to find she’d had enough of it already. Living alone here on a permanent basis was very different from odd weekends away from London.
Harriet faced the truth as she washed her breakfast dishes. Her knee-jerk reaction to James’ offer had been ill-advised. She might never get another as generous. And, painful though it was to part with End House, she needed the money as security now she was alone in the world. She would stay until the weekend to save face, and then sell End House to James Devereux.
Harriet found an old cagoule in the closet, put money in the pocket and went off with an umb
rella to the village stores to buy a Sunday paper. By the time she got back the sun was out, and she could hear Livvie’s voice reminding her that a garden needed weeding whether she was selling the house or not. Armed with fork and trowel, and a large waste bag for the weeds, Harriet prepared to do battle. End House gave directly onto the street in front, but owned a sizeable garden at the back, with apple trees and flowering shrubs. The laurel hedges were still reasonably neat, courtesy of the man who’d always helped her grandmother, but now Harriet could no longer afford to keep him the lawn needed mowing, and the herbaceous borders were fast getting out of hand.
Harriet got to work, but after only half an hour or so she was sweating and grubby, her neck ached, and only a discouragingly small portion of border was weed-free. She went indoors, gulped down a glass of water, and then set to it once more, determined to clear at least as much ground again before she took another breather. One thing was certain, she found, panting as she tugged and pulled, she’d hit on a sure way to kill time. Gardening looked a lot easier on television. She got to her feet at last to stretch her aching back, and groaned silently in frustration when she saw James Devereux strolling along the side path towards her.
‘Hello, Harriet.’
‘Hi. You’re still here, then.’ Oh, well done, Harriet. Top marks.
‘Interviews this week,’ he said briefly. ‘Am I interrupting?’
‘No, I’ve just finished. Did you want something?’
He looked at her levelly. ‘I just called in to say hello.’
Or to put pressure on her about the sale, more likely. Reminding herself that this was a good thing now she’d made her decision she smiled brightly. ‘Come inside. I’ll just dispose of this stuff first.’ Harriet put her gardening tools away and led her visitor into the kitchen. ‘Would you like a drink, or some tea?’
‘Tea would be good.’
Harriet washed her hands and filled the kettle, wishing that her shorts were longer and less encrusted with mud and sweat. ‘Do sit down,’ she told him as she hunted out teapot and cups.
James took one of the rush-seated chairs at the table, watching her objectively as she laid a tray and put tea bags in the pot. ‘You were the same height at thirteen. I remember those long legs of yours.’
She glanced up in astonishment as she filled the teapot and splashed boiling water on her wrist in the process.
James leapt from his chair at her anguished gasp. ‘Did you scald yourself?’ he demanded, seizing her hand.
‘Not much,’ she said faintly. ‘It’s just a drop or two.’
James turned the cold tap on in the sink and held her wrist under the water. ‘You’re trembling,’ he said gently, and put his arm round her. ‘Shock, probably.’
If so he was making it a whole lot worse. She could feel the heat of his body through the thin shirt, a faint aura of citrus and spice mingled with the scent of warm male skin—and he’s Tim’s brother, she reminded herself in horror, limp with relief when James released her and turned off the tap.
‘That’s better. Sit down, Harriet.’ He put the lid on the pot, poured tea, passed a cup to her, and sat down at the table. ‘Why didn’t Tim come down with you for the weekend before going off to Paris?’
‘I needed time on my own to make my mind up about the house,’ she told him gruffly, utterly floored by the discovery that James Devereux was a man she was attracted to. At least, her body was. Her brain flatly refused to believe it.
James eyed her downcast face thoughtfully. ‘If you change your mind and sell the house to me, Harriet, you could buy a flat of your own. Tim tells me you’re tired of sharing with your friend.’
Tim, she thought irritably, should keep his big mouth shut. ‘It’s a tempting prospect,’ she agreed.
James leaned forward. ‘But frankly it astonishes me that you and Tim haven’t set up house together long before this. Are you waiting to get married first?’
Harriet paused for a heartbeat, and then raised dark, demure eyes to his. ‘I’m old-fashioned that way.’
James sat back again, frowning. ‘And how does Tim feel about that?’
‘He agrees with me.’
‘This time you really do amaze me! No wonder he’s talking about a wedding soon.’
She looked him in the eye. ‘Frankly I’m surprised you’re such a keen advocate of marriage.’
‘Don’t be put off by my example.’ His face shadowed. ‘You and Tim are soul mates. Madeleine and I were not. But I apologise for snapping at you on the subject yesterday, Harriet. Tim would create hell if he knew I’d upset you in any way.’
‘You didn’t,’ she assured him. ‘Have some more tea.’
James shook his head and got up. ‘I must go. How is your hand now?’
‘Fine.’
‘Good. Be more careful in future.’
And to Harriet’s surprise he took himself off, leaving her mystified as to why he’d come to see her again. Surely not just to apologise for a remark he’d had every right to make! He’d made no further attempt to persuade her into selling, and if his aim was to sound her out about wedding plans he was out of luck. She smoothed her reddened wrist, reliving her physical reaction to James Devereux’s touch. At the mere thought of it a shiver ran through her entire body, right down to her toes, but she shook it off angrily. He was Tim’s brother, for heaven’s sake.
During the evening Tim rang up for a chat before his departure for Paris on business, astonished when she told him she’d seen his brother on three occasions so far, one of which had entailed a picnic lunch in the Edenhurst folly.
‘Which reminds me,’ she said, militant because she felt guilty for a sin not even committed, ‘in future don’t discuss my personal affairs with all and sundry.’
‘I do nothing of the kind,’ he said indignantly. ‘But if you mean End House, Jed asked about it so I told him.’
‘He wants it as staff accommodation for Edenhurst.’
‘Pretty urgently if he’s popping in on you all the time.’
‘Thanks a lot!’
‘You know what I mean, Harry.’
‘I do know. By the way, dearest, he asked why you and I aren’t living together right now.’
He whistled. ‘And what did you say to to that?’
‘I made it clear I disapprove of cohabiting before marriage,’ she said primly.
‘You’re kidding me!’ Tim gave the uproarious laugh that always had Harriet joining in. ‘I do love you, Harry.’
‘I love you, too. Enjoy yourself.’
Harriet put down the phone, unsurprised that Tim had no idea how miserable she felt under all the banter. Their relationship was unique and very special to them both, but secretly it was very different from the one they made it out to be. Usually she had no problem with this, but today she had experienced James Devereux’s touch for the first time. And found it was a dangerously inflammable sensation never experienced before with any man, including Tim. Especially Tim. Yet in the circumstances she had to try and forget it had ever happened. If she could.
Stacy Dyer arrived at nine on the dot the following morning, complete with black eye and a baby boy fast asleep in a pushchair.
‘I had to bring Robert with me today,’ she said anxiously. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Of course I don’t mind!’ Harriet smiled down at the sleeping child. ‘He’s gorgeous, Stacy. Have some coffee before you start. How did you get the shiner?’
Stacy wheeled the pushchair inside and sat down at the kitchen table. ‘His dad did it,’ she said, flushing.
Appalled, Harriet added a dollop of cream to a mug of strong coffee and passed it to Stacy.
‘Thanks.’ The girl stirred sugar into the steaming liquid and sipped it gratefully. ‘Yummy! I love real coffee.’
Harriet gave her a searching look. ‘What happened, Stacy?’
‘Greg came round last night when Mum was out, wanting to see Robert. He’d had a drink, so I wouldn’t let him. We had a bit of a struggle when h
e tried to get past me and he caught me on the cheek with his elbow. So I told him to get lost.’
‘I’m not surprised!’
‘He didn’t mean to hit me. He’s not like that.’ Stacy sighed, depressed. ‘But I won’t let him come near Robert if he’s had a drink. I had enough of that with my own father. Not that Greg drinks much, he can’t afford it, but he gets frustrated because he can’t get a full-time job, and I won’t get a place with him until he does.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Same age as me. I fell for Robert while Greg and I were still in school.’ Stacy shrugged philosophically. ‘At the moment cleaning is all I can do, but I go to computer classes two evenings a week, so by the time Robert starts nursery school I’ll be able to try for office jobs.’
‘How about Greg? Is he trained for anything?’
‘He’s got a couple of A-levels, but he likes to be outdoors, so he does whatever garden jobs he can get.’
‘It’s not easy for either of you, then,’ said Harriet. ‘Look, Stacy, there’s no need for you to do any cleaning today—’
The girl eyed her in dismay. ‘But I want to. Please! I’m sorry I had to bring Robert, but I couldn’t leave him with Mum in case Greg came back. She’d have given him what for over my eye, and Robert gets terrified when people shout.’
‘Bring Robert any time you like,’ Harriet assured her. ‘But for pity’s sake take it easy. If you feel rough at any point pack it in.’
Robert woke up while his mother was finishing the sitting room. Stacy changed his nappy with swift efficiency, but when she fastened her son back in the buggy the move met with heartbroken protests.
‘Why don’t I take him out in the garden?’ suggested Harriet. ‘Would he like to sit on a blanket for a bit in the sun?’
‘He’d just love it,’ said Stacy, and kissed her son’s wet cheeks as she popped a floppy cotton hat on his fair curls. ‘Thanks, Harriet. I brought some toys for him to play with.’
There was a sticky moment when Stacy left her son with his new playmate, but Robert soon decided that he liked sitting on a rug in the sunshine. His tears dried like magic when Harriet began building a tower with plastic bricks. He scooted nearer, demolished them with chuckles of delight, and made imperious demands for a repeat performance. Harriet obeyed, laughing, time and time again, and felt quite sorry when Stacy came out at last to say she’d finished for the day.
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