The Earl of London

by Louise Bay

  “Then I hate you for the rest of my life.”

  “That seems overly harsh. Murderers normally only get fifteen years.”

  “Seriously, I don’t understand why you want to be my friend,” she replied. “And I don’t understand why you think I’d want to be yours when you’re trying to do something that goes against everything I stand for. Everything I’ve spent my life working against.”

  When she said it like that, my actions made no sense. Perhaps I was just far too used to getting what I wanted, and right now, I wanted the development of Badsley, I wanted her. She was the antithesis of my life in London. Of the women there. The perfect English rose—pale skin, no makeup. Jeans with a smear of mud. I bet she’d never seen the inside of the gym. So, what had me so bewitched?

  “It looks like that Parish Council meeting will be a win-win for me,” I said. “I get Manor House Club, or I get you.”

  She stopped, an incredulous look in her eyes. “You don’t get me.” She started walking again. “I’m not some kind of object you can win.”

  “That came out wrong—it was supposed to be a compliment.”

  “And even if you win, don’t think you’re going to flutter those long eyelashes and have me dropping my knickers.”

  Interesting. “So you’ve been examining my long eyelashes.”

  “No. I mean. Eyelashes are normally…yours are a normal length.”

  I chuckled as she struggled to explain. It seemed Miss Westbury’s feathers were capable of being ruffled.

  “I’m just saying that your flirting won’t work on me.”

  I hoped that wasn’t true. I might have to work harder, but somehow I’d find a way to break down her walls. “Hey, you were the one to mention your knickers dropping. I only talked about friendship. Dinner maybe.”

  We got to a fence with a stile and we stopped. “Good luck with your plans, Mr. Steele. I’ll continue the rest of my journey alone, as this is Westbury land.” She stepped up onto the stile and across the fence.

  “Well, you’re welcome to trespass on my land anytime you like. You and your horse, that is,” I called as she headed across the field, her tangle of hair lifted by the breeze, her round, firm arse wiggling as she went. “I’ll take that as a yes to dinner if I lose at the council meeting.”

  If the Parish Council meeting didn’t go my way next week, dinner with Darcy would likely more than make up for it. With the women I normally slept with, our relationships were as businesslike as any meeting or negotiation, but with Darcy, there was no separation between personal and professional. Her business was completely personal to her. And I liked that. I got it. As much as she thought developing Manor House Club was all margins and money to me, it was the most personal thing I’d ever tried to do. It was why I was determined that the council would approve my plans.

  Fifteen

  Darcy

  My favorite thing to do in the whole world was to tuck up under a blanket in my grandfather’s study with a glass of red and watch an old film. So, with The Philadelphia Story on the TV, and Aurora and I at either end of my grandfather’s oxblood chesterfield, a bottle of wine and a worn, gold chenille blanket, I should have felt pretty close to perfect. Especially as Mrs. Steele had telephoned earlier to cancel the dinner we’d arranged. Hopefully we could rearrange another time when Logan couldn’t make it.

  Except Aurora was being deliberately infuriating.

  “How can you say that it’s nice?” I asked. “It’s clearly to manipulate people into thinking he has some kind of interest in the village.” If Logan had fooled Aurora by coming to the library fundraising committee meeting, then would members of the Parish Council fall for it, too?

  “Maybe he’s had a change of heart. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy having a smart bar and restaurant nearby. Plus, I heard he’s going to have a pool and a gym on the site and allow people to fish in his lake.”

  “You can’t be on his side!” I said.

  “It’s not that I’m on his side. Just that if the plans were to go through, it might not be the end of the world.”

  A pool in the village would be a great idea. But for locals. Not the wealthy elite. That was what was so infuriating—some of the ideas were good. And I liked that he wanted to commit to the village—he was just going about it in the wrong way. “We’d end up divided between the haves and the have-nots. The ones who get to use the pool and eat in the restaurant and those who have to clean the pool and serve up the meals. It would be the end of Woolton as we know it.”

  “Darcy! Can’t you see what a hypocrite you’re being? You know you are a duke’s sister, and aren’t you Lady Westbury or something?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “You’re complaining like you’re a ‘have-not’ in this scenario, when you’re one of the haves.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never acted like I was better than anyone.”

  “Maybe not, but you’re more than used to flying private. You have a butler and a housekeeper and a cook, as well as all your other staff. Sounds to me like you don’t mind the wealthy elite in the village, as long as it’s you and your family.”

  I winced. Aurora’s words stung like summer nettles on bare legs. “That’s not why I’m fighting Logan’s plans. I love this place. It’s the only real home I know. It’s the only place I feel safe. I’m just trying to hold on to that.”

  We sat in silence, Katharine Hepburn’s portrayal of a rich socialite getting everything wrong at every turn not as appealing as it had been when we’d sat down.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I’m privileged in many ways, but the most precious thing I ever got was to grow up in this place. Among the solid oak and ash trees, playing hide and seek in the beech hedges, paddling in the stream with Ryder. Knowing these good and honest people. This place saved Ryder and me. It’s special. Magic. You know that.”

  She reached out and squeezed my leg. “I do. And nothing will change those memories. But people do need jobs. And encouraging money out of the city to places like this isn’t always a bad thing.”

  “Maybe that’s right, in principle. But why did he have to choose Badsley and Woolton?”

  “Were you at least civil?” she asked.

  “Of course, I was civil, even though he chased after me as I walked home.”

  Aurora grinned. “He did? What did he say?”

  I blew out a breath and picked up my glass of wine. “Nothing interesting. Just that he wanted to be friends and that his planning application was all business.”

  “That was nice of him.”

  She wasn’t getting it. “He was just trying to manipulate me. He’s doing the same thing to the entire village—he’s in the farm shop with his grandmother, at the library fundraising committee, chasing me down at every opportunity. It’s all an act so he can make money.”

  “Maybe, but maybe not. He might actually want to be part of the village. I mean, he comes home every weekend, he’s spent a lot of money on Badsley House. You usually give people the benefit of the doubt.”

  True, but Logan’s plans for Manor House Club undermined all that. “Yeah, well, by all accounts, serial killers are normally charming—it’s the sociopath thing.”

  Aurora choked on her wine. “You can’t compare Logan Steele to a serial killer.”

  I giggled. “Maybe not. I’m just saying that he has a hidden agenda for every nice thing he does.” I circled the rim of my glass with a fingertip. “For example, he said that if he lost at the council meeting, he wanted to take me to dinner. He’s trying to manipulate me. Wants me to be friends with him if he wins. I see through him.” If I didn’t know better, I might have been taken in by his charm and easy manner.

  “Do you think that maybe you like him and you’re scared?” she asked.

  I frowned. “Don’t be so ridiculous.” I had liked him for a second or two, but that was embarrassing to admit, even to myself.

  “Is that a yes?”
/>   “No! It’s a definite no.”

  “I’m not buying it. This is perfect,” Aurora squealed. “He’s totally going to lose the vote and then you two can pretend to be friends for five minutes before you fall in love.”

  “Oh my God, Aurora, you’re delirious. I hope he loses the vote, but there will be no falling in love. I told you, I don’t even like the man.”

  She shrugged and placed her wine down on the table beside her. “I’m not sure that’s true.”

  “Of course it is. He’s the exact opposite of the man I see myself with.”

  “He’s tall, good-looking and rich.”

  “Yeah but he’s also elitist, self-satisfied and wants to ruin our village.”

  “He lives in Woolton a huge part of the week. And the fact he’s successful on his own merits? That has to be sexy. It is to me.”

  She had a point. Men who were self-made were far more attractive to me than men who just sat around living off what their ancestors had left them.

  “You need to be with someone with money—his own money. That’s why it didn’t work with Sam.” Aurora finished her glass of wine and grabbed the bottle to top us both up.

  A talented carpenter, Sam’s handmade furniture had appeared in Elle Interiors, but he’d found the gap between our situations far too difficult to handle—he thought that it had emasculated him. And truth be told, whoever I married either had to have their own money or not be intimidated by my family’s.

  “And you don’t want one of these guys who just wants to live off you.”

  I groaned. I could sniff out those particular men a mile off. The freeloaders, the ones completely happy for me to pay for everything. No, there was nothing attractive about that kind of man. Aurora was right. In a lot of ways, Logan looked like a good match.

  “Don’t you ever think that you might just be looking for reasons to hate Logan? I mean you won’t even admit he’s good-looking, which is just crazy because he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen. I think this might be a case of the lady protesting too much.”

  I groaned and tipped back my wine. “Okay, he’s handsome. I’m sure I’ve admitted that before.” He was also a great kisser, but Aurora didn’t need to hear that.

  “And you admit he’s socially suitable?”

  I topped up Aurora’s glass, then my own. “Yes, yes. I agree he wouldn’t want me to fund his lifestyle or be intimidated by mine.”

  “So, if the only issue is this planning application, then you have to promise me you’ll go to dinner with him if he loses.”

  “Don’t you start,” I replied.

  “Well, if not, I’ll just have to assume you want to be single forever. If you won’t even go to dinner with him, spend one evening with him, then you deserve to be alone.”

  I’d wanted to watch a film and get a little drunk, not be taken to task and have my life choices questioned by my best friend. “How can you say that?”

  “Because you’re missing out on an opportunity to get to know someone who might be perfect for you.”

  Logan Steele was infuriating, not perfect. Woolton was a steady, happy place that was all about routine and tradition. Since Logan had arrived, every day had been turned on its head and nothing was predictable. I never knew what was going to happen next, what was around the bend. Who knows what would happen if he won the planning vote? Things would only get worse.

  Sixteen

  Logan

  The last thing I’d have thought I’d be doing on a Wednesday afternoon would be attending a Parish Council meeting in the Woolton Village Hall. I’d planned to leave the details of Manor House Club to my trusted team. I rarely got my hands dirty with things like this, but I was here for two reasons. First, Manor House Club was important to me—the first business I’d ever start from scratch. And second, I never underestimated my opposition. I knew Darcy would oppose my plans and I didn’t want my absence to be fuel to her fire of an outsider coming in and ruining her village.

  So I’d come to the meeting in person. Careful not to look too much like a city implant, I’d dressed casually in dark jeans and a blue shirt, and sat with a pack of papers on a table opposite the committee members. At the next table were a group of six villagers who represented the opposition to my plans. Interestingly, Darcy wasn’t one of them, which I could only guess meant that she had enough support that she didn’t have to get her hands dirty.

  “Mr. Steele, would you like to address the committee?” the chair asked.

  “Thank you,” I stood and gave a copy of my presentation to each of the committee members. “I’ve set out an overview of the benefits of Manor House Club on the first page.” The hall fell silent apart from the sound of pages being turned. “You will see that the plans would mean more jobs both in the construction and then ongoing in hospitality.”

  “And can you guarantee these will be local jobs?” asked the member on the far right, Miss Price.

  “I’m very hopeful that most of them will be.”

  Miss Price rolled her eyes. “‘Hopeful’ and ‘most’? You’re not prepared to make a commitment?”

  “To provide the best service and facilities for customers, we will want to recruit the best people for the jobs. I have no doubt that a high proportion will be local.” It was probable that we’d have to source some of the positions from London. Surely they couldn’t expect anything else.

  “I see,” Miss Price said.

  I went through my other arguments, how it would attract visitors to the village, how those people would bring their money with them and boost the local economy.

  “And can you tell me your experience with starting businesses like this? What is your track record?” Mr. Beadle asked.

  “Well, Steele Enterprises made a profit last year of—”

  “I’m not interested in Steele Enterprises generally. Or your profits. I want to know about your experience, specifically, of developing businesses such as this and the impact they’ve had on the local community.”

  “With the utmost respect, I believe my general experience with growing Steele Enterprises is directly applicable.” I went on to detail the strong financial position of Steele Enterprises and how successful I’d been.

  “And how will you address the divide between the members and the non-members who live in the village? The last thing we want to do is encourage an us and them culture,” said the older lady on the end.

  “I would argue, respectfully, that there will always be different people with different backgrounds and resources in any village. Now in Woolton, there are some people who own a great deal of land and have access to a great many resources. And there are those who don’t.” Darcy might pretend that she was like any other villager, but she wasn’t.

  “The difference being that here the people of resources are currently part of the village, live here permanently and are committed to village life. What we want to avoid is creating a divide that will cause resentment,” Mr. Beadle said.

  “I’m open to looking at what areas of Manor House Club might be open to local people at certain times of the year.”

  “But you make no mention of that in your presentation.”

  “I’d be happy to consider any suggestion you have.” I no more wanted to create a divide among the villagers than anyone else did.

  Mr. Dawson sighed. “Do you have anything further to add?”

  “I think I’ve taken you through all the advantages.”

  “Perhaps. But you’ve not said anything about how your plans will impact the people. The sense of community. You’ve not spoken at all about the impact of Manor House Club on our way of life.” Mr. Dawson pulled out the article in The London Times that described me as a peddler of destruction. “It’s been brought to my attention that you don’t seem to measure success in the same way we do. You see, it’s not our job to ensure you can make money. It’s our job to ensure we don’t destroy lives, that we don’t unnecessarily destroy beautiful and picturesque countryside with buildings a
nd roads. We need to see clear and measurable benefits for the community. Anyway, we must vote.”

  My time was up as the committee members turned away from me and began to murmur to each other.

  The Times sat in front of all the committee members. Some had tried to hide it. Others hadn’t bothered. Darcy might not be here in person, but her influence was clear. That article was following me around, determined to show me as a force of destruction when I’d worked my entire life to be anything but. Manor House Club was meant to be proof that I wasn’t out to destroy anything.

  I knew the outcome without a vote being necessary.

  Darcy had won. I’d been defeated.

  It was the first time a business venture hadn’t gone right for me in a long time. As I sat there, I tried to convince myself it was a character-building moment, though it didn’t feel like it. It felt like the change I was trying to make to my legacy, the move away from destruction to something more positive, had been futile. At least there was no press to witness my defeat.

  Already, I was running through ways to appeal the decision. But for now, I was going to sit here, listen to the outcome and look disappointed but dignified.

  And then I was going to see Darcy.

  “Those in favor, please raise your hands?”

  Not one committee member put their hand up.

  “And those against?”

  Four hands went up.

  “I’m afraid, Mr. Steele, your application is denied,” the chair announced, finally putting me out of my misery.

  I shook their hands and thanked each of them for the time and consideration. I wasn’t going to look like a sore loser, and I didn’t want to burn bridges in this village.

  Ignoring the murmurs of the crowd and the eyes fixed on me, I strode outside, the spring sunshine bright enough to have me slipping my sunglasses over my eyes, and I headed to Woolton Hall.

  I needed to pick myself up, dust myself off and refuse to see this as the end, just a bump in the road. And even a lost planning application had a silver lining. Darcy had promised me dinner as a consolation prize, and I was cashing in. I wanted to know how influential she’d been in the planning process. How hard had she campaigned against me?