Love & Liability (A High Tea & Flip-Flops Novel Book 2)

by Linda Cassidy Lewis

  Without a word, Jeremy grabs his jacket and heads for the stairs.

  If I thought Jeremy was glum leading up to the dinner with his parents the other night, that’s nothing compared to the state he’s in by the time we get in Ethan’s car to drive to the country house. Laura and my mom, who are driving there separately because we have too much luggage to fit along with the four of us in her car, left a few minutes before us because Jeremy was stalling.

  As we head out, Ethan prods Jeremy to cheer up. “Come on, mate, you’re not headed to your execution.”

  Jeremy scoffs. “No, that would be over quickly.”

  “It’s only a weekend.”

  “Four days. In hell.”

  Ethan’s golden gaze seeks my eyes through the rearview mirror, signaling that he tried.

  I take his cue. “We don’t have to spend the whole time there. Your father said we could take a car to London anytime.”

  Jeremy turns in his seat to look at me. “At best, that’s an hour’s drive. One way.”

  “Well, then I guess we’ll just have to hide in our room a lot … having sex.”

  Ethan laughs and pumps a fist in the air. “My kind of girl.”

  Jeremy growls and goes back to staring out his window.

  Crap. If no one speaks, an hour’s drive will take forever. “Why don’t you stay too, Ethan?”

  He meets my eyes in the mirror again. “Gordon views me as a bad influence on his son.”

  “But you’re a lawyer.”

  “Yes, but I failed to dissuade Jeremy from his ‘fool’s errand’ of pursuing novel writing. No, not failed. I didn’t try.”

  “I’m sorry you’re not welcome there.”

  “He was never fond of me anyway. I seemed to always be involved whenever our Jeremy got himself in a spot of trouble.” Ethan’s grinning. He elbows Jeremy. “Remember the time we nicked your dad’s Austin and got it mired in the bog?”

  Jeremy barely grunts.

  “We were thirteen,” Ethan tells me. “And how about the time I talked you into gifting Sheila a pair of your mum’s diamond earrings?” Again, he adds for my benefit, “Convinced him she had so many she’d never miss them. Turns out she was particularly fond of that pair and noticed immediately. And, naturally, they were a bit pricey.”

  “How old were you then?” I ask.

  “Fifteen.”

  “Fortunately, Sheila’s parents made her give them back before Jeremy had to ask for them.”

  Jeremy huffs and shakes his head.

  “This is comforting,” I say. Ethan’s eyes ask for an explanation. “I’m glad to know he wasn’t always perfect.”

  Jeremy and Ethan exchange a look. But then Ethan’s laughter sends Jeremy back to his window. After that, we ride mostly with only the radio breaking the silence.

  And then we arrive.

  You know that feeling where, for just a second, you can’t believe what you’re seeing is real? That happens to me as we enter the driveway through huge iron gates—Dovewood House reads the plaque on one of the gate pillars. Enhanced by the first glow of sunset, the view of the Pearce country house reminds me of a scene in one of those movies Gabi and I love … the ones made from Jane Austen books. Not that Dovewood House is a match for the colossal mansion Mr. Darcy lived in, but it’s big and old and … well, grand. A manor house.

  I glance at Jeremy and discover that he’s been watching me. Watching my reaction. I close my gaping mouth and smile. “Impressive.”

  He says nothing and faces forward again. Laura and my mom, who beat us here, are standing outside their car. A man I don’t recognize is helping them unload the luggage … the butler, I suppose. Probably one of many servants, considering the size of this house. Jeremy grew up here. This was his life. Now, I better understand Alison’s reaction—“you’ve got to be kidding”—when she saw the apartments where Jeremy and I lived.

  It’s hard not to feel like a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, snooping to see how the other half lives. I can’t wait to have a few minutes alone to send Gabi some photos.

  Jeremy opens my door and helps me out. “It’s just a house,” he mutters.

  Ethan empties his trunk of our suitcases. “Ring me when you’re going to be in the city,” he says and moves to get back in the car.

  Jeremy grabs his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” Ethan flicks his eyes toward the house. Jeremy shakes his head. “If I can abide him for a weekend, you can for a few hours.”

  Ethan picks up two of the bags he’d just sat down. “You owe me.”

  Jeremy grabs the other suitcase. Taking me by the hand, he leads our group into the house though a heavy arched door.

  He and Ethan set the luggage on the gleaming wide-planked floor where the butler is standing with the rest. As we move farther into the house, I try my hardest not to gasp or gawk or react in any way other than casual curiosity, but it’s almost impossible.

  The entry hall, surely thirty feet long and ten wide, leads to a room that’s at least as large as my mother’s living room and seems to be only a wider hall. In the center, a beautiful round pedestal table with a huge floral centerpiece sits under a massive chandelier and a few occasional chairs are set against the wall between doors opening onto other rooms. One surprise is that to my right an indoor pool is visible through French doors. Another surprise is that it’s brighter in the hall and whatever this room is than I expected, but I have a feeling the walls and woodwork now painted cream and white used to be much darker when the house was built.

  “When was this house built?” Mom asks.

  “Oh, not so long ago,” Laura says, “1836, I think.”

  I’m still trying to grasp that in England nearly two centuries is “not so long ago” when Amanda appears in an open doorway across the room.

  “Welcome to Dovewood House,” she says. “The Pearce family has held title to the land for over three centuries, and the original manor house, built in 1798, was replaced with this one, which has been enlarged twice and remodeled three times that I know of. Paintings of both original houses are hanging in the drawing room if you’re interested.” She sweeps an arm toward the room she just left. “Come join me for tea.” She winks at Ethan. “Gordon hasn’t arrived yet, but we won’t let that stop us.”

  We enter another white room. Although the architectural detail is the same as the two halls, the furnishings are more casual, more modern, but no doubt expensive. I scan the walls for the paintings Amanda told us about, but evidently this is not the drawing room. The arrangement of the sofas and chairs at this end of the room frustrates me because on the wall at the far end, beyond the piano, hangs an assortment of what looks like black-and-white family photos. I can’t wait to get close enough to study them.

  Amanda gestures for us to sit. “Please make yourself comfortable. Jeremy, will you see to the drinks?”

  He glances at Mom as he moves toward the bar. “G&T, Marie?”

  “Yes, thank you, dear.”

  Either knowing or assuming, Jeremy doesn’t ask for anyone else’s order.

  “Shall we?” Amanda says, gesturing to the display of food on the tea cart being wheeled in by a servant. “I hope you enjoyed the drive. It’s lovely countryside here, though not as breathtaking as it will be in a couple of weeks when all the trees have leafed out and flowers are blooming everywhere.”

  “But, Amanda,” Mom says, “it’s still a gorgeous landscape.”

  We’re silent for a few minutes, nibbling and drinking. With plates being passed around and balanced on our knees, it’s all more casual than the tea at Claridge’s, but with my tendency to clumsiness, it’s still stressful.

  “Uncle hasn’t arrived yet?” Laura asks.

  “Oh yes. He spent most of the afternoon riding, so he’s probably in the stable now.”

  Mom perks up. “You have horses?”

  I’m surprised at her reaction until I remember she was raised on a farm. I never saw it because her parents died ye
ars before I was born. She inherited the place but had to sell it to pay off their debts. By then, she’d already moved to the city and met my father, so I didn’t think she regretted letting the farm go, but maybe I was wrong.

  “They’re Bert’s pride and joy,” Amanda tells my mom. “He’s always been a horse lover. Do you ride?”

  “I used to.”

  Amanda smiles. “Then I expect you will again this weekend.” She turns to Ethan. “How is your mother?”

  “Off on another honeymoon, so I expect she’s happy … for now.”

  Amanda pauses only a second. “And your father?”

  “He’s retiring next month. Says he’s moving out of the country.”

  Jeremy’s face registers surprise. “Where to?”

  Ethan shrugs. “I give him a month before he’s working again. Retirement is a foreign concept to him.”

  Amanda sighs. “I think it’s the generation. I can’t imagine Gordon ever retiring.”

  “They’re defined by their occupations, Mum,” Laura says.

  The room is quiet for a moment again before Uncle Bert enters.

  “Halloo! Why is everyone so glum on this fine afternoon?”

  Mom beams at him.

  Jeremy smiles and moves back to the bar. “The usual, Uncle?”

  “Brilliant. Thank you, dear boy.”

  I’m wondering where Richard is, but since no one’s mentioned him, I won’t either. It would suit some of us, at least, if he stays in town this weekend. He’s an agitator, so his absence might even keep things civil between Jeremy and his father.

  “The forecast calls for clear skies again tomorrow.” Uncle Bert accepts his drink from Jeremy and then takes a seat beside Mom. “I do believe you’ve brought the sun with you, Marie.” He pats her hand and then leaves his over hers.

  I glance at Jeremy who nods toward them and then raises his eyebrows. I shrug. I really need to get some time alone with Mom to find out what’s going on there. It feels strange to see her with a man and glowing like that.

  The conversation roams from topic to topic, all pleasant, until, during a moment’s lull, Gordon’s angry voice carries to us, growing louder as he nears.

  “Take care of it,” he growls and enters the room, pocketing his phone. Richard, who enters on his father’s heels, goes straight to the bar to pour the man a drink. “Forgive me,” Gordon says, nodding to Mom and me. “I thought I’d left work at the office.” He takes the glass from Richard without a thank-you or even a glance. “Has Amanda given you the house tour yet?”

  “I waited for you,” Amanda says. “We’ll go after we finish tea.”

  “Very well.” Sighing, he sits.

  Richard’s at the bar pouring himself another drink when Gordon announces it’s time for the tour.

  “Would anyone else care to refresh their drink before we go?” Amanda asks.

  Jeremy and Ethan pour doubles for themselves.

  “I’ll wait here,” Richard says, and I almost feel sorry for him when no one tries to convince him to come along.

  Although I’m curious as hell to see every inch of this house, it’s evident from the start that Jeremy’s irritated by his father’s insistence on conducting a tour. It does seem snooty to me for a moment, but then I think about the family owning this property for centuries and decide that gives Gordon a right to be proud. As he leads the way, Jeremy and Ethan hang back muttering rude comments under their breath, which seems childish to me, so I move up beside Laura.

  Gordon shows us his study, the library, and the dining room, which are all paneled in dark wood like I expected the whole house to be. But the walls of Amanda’s sitting room are covered in elegant wallpaper in a rose shade. The sofa and chairs are upholstered in pastel or floral fabrics. And a graceful white desk sits near one window.

  We pass a closed door on the left and a wide staircase to the right as Gordon leads us to what he calls the reception hall. (Turns out this is the big room with the round table under the chandelier.) He opens the French doors leading to the pool, and we file in to stand on the stone deck as he points out the “solarium” on the far side and the changing room to our right. Another set of French doors, at one end of the pool, lead outside.

  “Amanda and Jeremy are so fond of swimming that we remodeled to convert the old ballroom into our indoor pool area,” he says. “You’ll see the outdoor pool tomorrow.”

  Two pools!

  “You said the old ballroom?” my mom says.

  Amanda nods. “We have a new one in the new wing.”

  A ballroom!

  The new wing!

  Gordon leads us through the last door opening off the reception hall. The same gleaming, wide-plank flooring extends throughout this floor, covered with beautiful area carpets, some oriental, some solid-colored plush or Berber. A beautiful dark red oriental covers the center of this room, which is also paneled. A massive painting hangs above an equally impressive fireplace.

  “Dovewood House as it looked soon after its major renovation,” Gordon announces with a gesture toward the painting. “And there”—he points to the opposite wall—“is a depiction of the original manor house.”

  The original was only two floors and white stone, not tan brick like this one, but both paintings show the same beautiful green landscape with several detached buildings of various sizes.

  “All the rooms I’ve shown you and the ones directly above are part of the original house. Obviously, many of the rooms have been remodeled. Amanda demanded larger windows for more natural light. The coach house and new wing are now connected by a hall extending past the original cloakroom. Follow me.”

  Cloakroom!

  I’m a little disappointed when he turns in the opposite direction from the beautiful staircase we passed earlier. He leads us back toward the front entrance but turns left into a narrower hallway before we reach that door. I’d barely registered that our luggage had been left by this hall. It’s gone now, of course, carried up to our rooms by the butler I suppose.

  (I feel ridiculous even thinking about servants.)

  We pass closed doors and a narrow stairway without any comment from Gordon, but Laura and I have lagged back enough that we’re in range of Jeremy’s sarcastic whisper. “To our left, we have the dark passage leading to our servant quarters.”

  Ethan snickers.

  Laura turns her head slightly toward them and whispers, “Our staff quarters, Jeremy. Don’t provoke Dad.”

  “Watch out,” Ethan whispers. “Chelsea’s about to call you a bully.”

  Laura slaps a hand over her mouth to hide her grin.

  I take a giant step forward. I don’t know why the three of them didn’t stay behind. It’s not like they’ve never seen this house before.

  Gordon points out the almost elegant four-car garage, then shows us the totally modern media room and then the ballroom, which is mostly just a huge, empty room with massive mirrors the length of one long wall and, along the opposite wall, more of those floor-to-ceiling windows and two sets of French doors that open out onto a patio. A grand piano sits in one corner with a few wooden chairs nearby. It’s everything a ballroom should be, I guess, if you’re the type of person who holds balls. Above the ballroom are a game room and a fitness room with all the professional exercise equipment you could want. Seriously.

  Mom, of course, has been saying all the appropriate things. I’m sort of freaked out, so I mostly smile and keep quiet. There’s rich, and then there’s rich. Jeremy’s family is rich, and that’s not what I was prepared for. Why is he living in California, in Mom’s middle-class suburban ranch house, when he could have all this?

  I’m stunned. Not counting the pool area and staff rooms, I’ve now seen, or been told exist, twenty-some rooms. Literally, I lost count. I’m seeing Jeremy in a whole new light. Well, actually, I’m seeing him in two new lights. Even though he comes from a social class higher than I dreamed, he’s acting a lot less stuffy than he does back home. Kind of immature rea
lly. Partly, that’s the effect Ethan has on him, and I sort of understand that, but I’m surprised that even Jeremy is having trouble adulting in his childhood home.

  On the pretense of “getting some air,” Jeremy, Ethan, Laura, and I are standing behind the house on part of a huge patio, which they call a terrace. We’re passing around an enormous spliff, as Ethan called it when he pulled it out of his jacket pocket. Actually, I took only one hit because it’s primo shit, and I don’t trust myself to make it safely through dinner if I’m high. Which is too bad. I could use something to mellow out after Jeremy and Ethan’s behavior during the house tour. And there Jeremy goes again, mocking his father.

  “To my left, you’ll see another ostentatious display of my wealth,” Jeremy says, “a genuine Grecian urn planted with a rare species I personally saved from extinction.”

  Okay. That’s enough. “You’re acting like a child, Jeremy.”

  It seems to take a second for my words to reach him, and then he straightens to his Mr. High Tea posture. “You know how my—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. You have a big, mean daddy. But you’re a man now, not a ten-year-old, so grow a pair.”

  He couldn’t look more incredulous. His face reddens, and he starts to sputter—honest to God. Just when I fear he’s going to blow, Ethan punches him in the shoulder. The blow knocks Jeremy back a foot or two, but he keeps his balance. The three of us watch him. He’s not moving, just staring ahead.

  And then he starts laughing.

  Ethan points at Jeremy. “You’d better appreciate what you’ve got in this woman, arsehole.”

  Jeremy reins in his laughter. “I do, mate. I do.” He reaches out and pulls me to him for a kiss. “I’ll do my best to act the man.”

  “Won’t be easy with him around.” Giggling, Laura gestures toward Ethan. “Away, you three-inch fool!”

  “Hide not thy poison with such sugared words,” he replies.

  Jeremy snaps to attention and proclaims, “More of your conversation would infect my brain.” He bows. “I will be bold and take my leave of you.”

  The three of them nearly fall over roaring with laughter. I just walk away shaking my head. Looks like I might not be the one in danger of making a disaster of dinner after all.