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‘Just pottering, I suppose.’ Chloe had smiled at him.
‘Well you could always potter over to Lizbeth Crane’s, if you felt inclined,’ her uncle said briskly. ‘She’s damaged her wrist gardening and Jack’s in Brussels, so their retriever will need walking.’
‘Of course I’ll go.’ Chloe didn’t think twice. ‘A wander across the fields with a friendly dog like Flare is just what I need. I’ll call round as soon as I’ve been to the post office.’
Which in itself had been an experience, she thought.
‘So you’re back.’ Mrs Thursgood had greeted her with a faint sniff. ‘Thought you’d deserted us for good. Come back for that young vet, I dare say. We all thought round here that the banns would have been called a year back or more. You don’t want to leave it too long, missy,’ she added with a look of faint disparagement. ‘You’re not getting any younger, and men go off the boil as quick as they go on it.’
Chloe, acutely aware that every word was being savoured by the queue behind her, paid for her stamps with murder in her heart and escaped.
But there had been more to come. She had to run the gauntlet of the shoppers in the main street, and by the time she reached the Cranes’ house, she felt if one more person said, ‘Well, Chloe, you’re quite a stranger,’ she would howl at the sky.
But Mrs Crane’s delighted welcome, accompanied as it was by coffee and home-made biscuits, plus Flare’s grin and gently offered paw had compensated for a great deal.
Except …
It had been a marvellous walk, the sun warm on her back, and Flare, plumy tail waving, bounding along ahead of her. After a mild disagreement over the retriever’s wish to complete the pleasure of the morning by rolling joyously in a large cowpat, they turned for home. They’d just emerged from a field onto the lane leading back to the village and Chloe was fastening the gate behind her, when she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves.
She glanced round and saw a handsome bay gelding trotting towards them, and paused, her throat tightening when she saw who was riding him.
‘Good morning.’ Darius brought the horse to a stand, and bent forward to pat his glossy neck. ‘Enjoying a constitutional, Miss Benson? I thought you’d be getting your exercise elsewhere on this lovely day—in some convenient haystack with your intended, perhaps.’
Her skin warmed. ‘Do you have to make unpleasant remarks?’ she asked coldly.
‘On the contrary, the activity I’m referring to is entirely pleasurable.’ He grinned down at her. ‘Or perhaps you don’t find it so. What a terrible shame, not to mention waste,’ he added, his gaze sliding appreciatively over the thrust of her breasts under her white shirt, down to her slender waist and the curve of her hips.
Aware that her flush was deepening, Chloe bent hurriedly to clip on Flare’s leash.
‘Just as a matter of interest,’ he went on. ‘Why are you walking Lizbeth Crane’s dog?’
‘I’m being a good neighbour,’ she said shortly. ‘A concept you may find unfamiliar.’
‘Not at all, as I hope to demonstrate over the coming months.’ He paused. ‘However, if true love has worked some miracle and you’re really in Good Samaritan mode, you might consider extending your range as far as the Hall.’
As Chloe’s lips parted to deliver a stinging refusal, he held up a hand.
‘Hear me out, please. I don’t get the chance to take Orion here out as much as I should, largely because any spare time I have goes to my brother’s Samson, who’s eating his head off in between throwing serious moodies.
‘I seem to recall you were a damned good rider in the old days, so, if you’d consider exercising Orion for me sometimes, I’d be immensely grateful to you.’
She gave him a startled look. Gratitude wasn’t something she’d ever have attributed to him. Or the paying of compliments. Not that it made any real difference. I seem to recall …
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But it’s quite impossible.’
‘May I ask why?’
‘I have a wedding to organise,’ she said curtly. ‘In case you’ve forgotten. I shall be far too busy.’
He sat, one hand resting on his hip, his gaze meditative as he watched her. ‘I hadn’t forgotten. But is it really going to take all day of every day? How many hundreds of people are you planning to invite, for God’s sake?’
‘That’s none of your business,’ she returned. ‘Anyway, Arthur must still be at the Hall, so why can’t he ride Orion?’
‘Unfortunately, his arthritis won’t let him, but it would break his heart if I pensioned him off and got a younger groom.’
He added flatly, ‘And, for obvious reasons, my father finds even minor changes distressing.’
Chloe bit her lip. ‘Yes—yes, of course.’ She paused. ‘I was—very sorry to hear about Andrew. I hadn’t realised.’ She took a breath. ‘It was terribly sad.’
His face hardened. ‘Not just sad but bloody stupid and totally unnecessary.’
She gasped. ‘You don’t feel, perhaps, that’s too harsh a judgment? Whatever may have happened, he was still your brother.’
‘Harsh, perhaps,’ Darius returned coolly. ‘Yet entirely accurate. However, this is not the time to debate Andrew’s motives for risking his life by pushing himself to ridiculous and dangerous limits.
‘And my proposition over Orion still stands,’ he added. ‘I’d like you to think it over, instead of just dismissing it out of hand because I’m doing the asking. You don’t even have to give me a personal reply. Just ring the Hall at any time, and Arthur will have him tacked up and ready for you.’
He smiled faintly. ‘And Orion would be grateful too, don’t forget.’
He touched the horse with his heels, and they moved off.
Chloe stared after them, her mind a welter of mixed emotions. It was still impossible, of course—what he’d asked—but Orion was an absolute beauty, and the thought of cantering him along those flat stretches by the river in the Willow valley was a genuine temptation.
But one she had to resist.
She’d told herself the same thing at intervals during the day, and she was still saying it now as she stepped out of the bath and dried herself, and applied some of the body lotion from the satin-lined gift basket of Hermes’ Caleche that the Armstrongs had given her for Christmas.
She repeated it as she put on her prettiest lace briefs and sprayed her arms and breasts lightly with matching scent. As she applied her make-up and combed her hair into glossy waves around her face. And as she finally slipped on the knee-skimming cream georgette dress with the deep-V neckline, which discreetly signalled that she was wearing no bra.
Too obvious? she worried in front of the mirror. Or simply a means to an end? A message to Ian that at last she was his for the taking.
Absurd to feel even remotely jittery about something that was so natural and would be so right, she thought sliding her feet into low-heeled sandals that echoed the colour of the lapis lazuli drops in her ears. Yet for some reason, she did.
Ian was in the sitting room talking to her aunt and uncle when she arrived downstairs. When he turned in response to her quiet, ‘Good evening,’ and saw her standing in the doorway, his jaw dropped.
‘God, Clo, you look amazing—like someone from a magazine cover.’
‘You look pretty good yourself.’ And it wasn’t just his looks, she thought as she went to him smiling, appraising his black-and-white houndstooth tweed jacket, worn with dark trousers and the ruby silk tie which set off his crisp white shirt. He’d dressed to kill too, for this important night in their lives.
It’s going to be all right, she thought. It’s going to be wonderful.
She lifted her face, offering him her lips, but he reddened slightly and deposited a kiss on her cheek instead.
‘Have a wonderful time,’ Aunt Libby whispered with a hug, as Ian paused to have a final word with Uncle Hal on their way out. ‘I won’t wait up.’
Chloe detected a hint of apprehension in her smile and hugged her back. ‘Don’t worry. I’m a big girl now. I know what I’m doing.’
When Chloe was growing up, the Willowford Arms had been just a village pub offering good beer, a dartboard and a skittle alley.
Over the years, under successive landlords, however, it had changed completely. The saloon bar still offered tradition, but the lounge had morphed into a reception area and smart cocktail bar for the restaurant, now housed in a striking conservatory extension.
There were no great surprises on the menu, but the freshness of the ingredients and excellent cooking had earned the pub favourable mentions in the county magazine and various food guides and, even early in the week as this was, there were few empty tables to be seen.
The staff were mainly locals, and they all seemed genuinely pleased to see Chloe, if a little surprised. Ian, she noted with some surprise of her own, was treated as a regular.
‘That pork afelia you liked last week is on the specials board tonight,’ their waitress told him as she showed them to their table, where Chloe was thrilled to find champagne on ice waiting along with the menus.
‘Now there’s a bit of forward planning,’ she teased as their glasses were filled. ‘What a terrific thought.’
‘Well, I felt something special was called for to celebrate the return of the native.’ Ian touched his glass to hers. ‘It’s great to see you, Clo. It’s been a hell of a long time.’
‘I know.’ She smiled into his eyes. ‘But now, I promise you, I’m home for good.’
She paused. ‘Unlike, I’ve discovered, my aunt and uncle, busily transforming the Grange for the market and a major move. Rather a shock to the system, I have to say.’
‘It was a surprise to me too,’ he admitted. ‘But—things change. People move on. It’s the way of the world, and Hal’s put his heart and soul into the practice for a long time, so he deserves to enjoy his retirement.’
She toyed with the idea of some jokey comment on the lines of, however it means I’m going to be homeless. Any suggestions? but decided it was too early in the evening, confining herself to a neutral, ‘I’m happy for them too.’
Besides, the lead should definitely come from him, she thought as she sipped her champagne.
She’d played the scene so often in her imagination—hearing him murmur, ‘It’s so wonderful to have you back with me, darling. Stay for ever,’ as he produced the little velvet jeweller’s box—that she felt as if she’d somehow missed a cue.
‘I think I might try this pork afelia you’re so keen on,’ she said as she scanned the menu. ‘With the vegetable terrine to start with.’
‘It’s a good choice,’ he said. ‘I had it when I brought Lloyd Hampton, our new partner-to-be here. Wanted to convince him that he wasn’t altogether moving away from civilisation as he knows it.’
‘It’s clearly done the trick.’
‘I hope so. He’s a really good bloke, and his wife’s a doll.’
He’s married then? was also going to sound like a sharp elbow in the ribs, thought Chloe.
‘I shall look forward to meeting her,’ was her chosen alternative.
‘You’re bound to,’ he said. ‘I’m pretty sure that Lloyd is interested in buying the Grange. He and Viv have two children, and the third’s on the way, so they need the space.’
‘Well, yes. It sounds ideal,’ said Chloe, resolutely ignoring the pang of disappointment in the far corner of her mind which had visualised a very different future for her old home when she and Ian would also need more space than the cottage. Hopefully for the same reason.
When they took their seats at the corner, candlelit table waiting for them, Ian drank another half glass of champagne, then announced he was switching to mineral water.
‘Because you’re driving?’ Chloe, settling for a glass of house red, gave him a rueful look. ‘What a shame, because it’s a lovely evening, and we could easily have walked.’ And the cottage is even nearer than the Grange when it’s time for home …
‘Past all those twitching curtains?’ He pulled a face. ‘I’d really rather not. A vehicle at least gives an illusion of privacy.’
‘Talking of which,’ she said. ‘I gather you sold your last jeep to Darius Maynard.’
‘I heard he was in the market for something more serviceable in addition to that flashy sports car he’s so fond of. I’d decided to trade up, so it seemed like serendipity.’
She said slowly, ‘Yes, I suppose so. Although it seems odd—having him back here just as if nothing had happened.’
He shrugged. ‘It must have been with his father’s agreement, Clo, so it’s their family business, not ours.’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ She played with a fork. ‘I understand Sir Gregory’s getting over his stroke.’
‘Indeed he is. Coming on by leaps and bounds, according to the latest reports.’
‘I’m glad. I always liked him, although he could be intimidating.’ She paused. ‘I used to go up the Hall when I was in my teens and read to Lady Maynard when she was so ill.’
‘How did that happen?’
‘I won a school poetry competition that she judged. I enjoyed being with her. She was the sweetest person. Darius was with her a lot too and I always felt that he was secretly her favourite.’ She paused. ‘I was always glad she didn’t know how he turned out. What he did to—Andrew.’ She bit her lip. ‘Betrayal’s such a terrible thing.’
‘It is,’ Ian said quietly. ‘But we don’t actually know the circumstances. Maybe they couldn’t help themselves.’
Upon which the first course arrived, and the conversation turned inevitably to the food.
And Ian was quite right about the pork, Chloe decided after she’d tasted one of the tender cubes of fillet, flavoured with garlic and coriander, cooked in wine, and served with savoury brown rice and mangetouts.
For dessert, she chose an opulent dark-chocolate mousse, well-laced with brandy, while Ian opted for cheese and biscuits.
‘You should have picked another pud, so we could share like we used to,’ she told him in mock reproach.
He gave a constrained smile. ‘Out of practice, I guess.’
For what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening, he took his mobile phone from his pocket and checked it.
And what a very annoying habit that is, thought Chloe as she ate her last spoonful of mousse.
Aloud, she said mildly, ‘Isn’t Uncle Hal taking your calls this evening?’
‘Well, yes.’ Ian replaced the phone in his jacket. ‘But I’m waiting for news of the Crawfords’ Kirsty. She’s a really good little bitch—won all kinds of shows already, and this may be her only litter, so it needs to go well.’
Chloe’s brows lifted. ‘But I thought it had already happened last night.’
‘False alarm,’ he said. ‘Main event still expected at any moment, and they want me to stand by in case of emergency.’ He signalled to the waitress. ‘Would you like filter coffee or espresso?’
She took a deep breath, summoning up courage she hadn’t thought she’d need. ‘Why don’t we make our minds up about that back at the cottage? It’s been a gorgeous meal, but a bit public for a proper reunion, don’t you think?’ She reached across the table, and touched his hand with hers. ‘I really think we need to spend some time alone together—and talk.’
‘Yes, of course we should, and I want that too,’ Ian said quickly. ‘But not tonight, Clo.’ He gave an awkward laugh. ‘For one thing, the cottage is in a bit of a mess. For another—there’s been barely minimum contact between us for a whole year now. I’ve hardly heard from you, let alone seen you. Being on opposite sides of the country didn’t help, either, and both of us being so busy. And now you turning up out of the blue like this is frankly the last thing I was expecting.’
He added quickly, ‘It isn’t that it’s not wonderful to see you, or that I don’t want you—please believe that. Just that maybe we should take it easy for a while—get to know each other again—before, well, anything …’
His voice tailed off uncomfortably and in the silence that followed, Chloe could hear her heart beating a sudden tattoo—a call to arms. Because the situation was going terribly, disastrously wrong.
Men go off the boil as quick as they go on it … Mrs Thursgood’s words rang ominously in her ears. But that couldn’t be happening—not to them …
She removed her hand, and sat back in her chair. Summoned a smile that would somehow manage to be calm and amused at the same time. And give no hint of her inner turmoil of shocked disbelief.
‘Actually, you may well be right in wanting not to rush things.’ She made herself speak almost casually. ‘Being wise for both of us, no less. And, anyway, taking our time could be much nicer. Even exciting.’
She paused. ‘Besides, you’re clearly up to your ears in work and the new plans for the practice. And I—I have to start looking for another job.
‘As for coffee,’ she added brightly. ‘I think I’d prefer decaf. And when the bill comes, in line with our fresh start, I insist we go Dutch.’
And she stuck to her guns in spite of his obvious reluctance.
Now all I want to do is get out of here, she thought, reaching for her bag, and the blue-and-gold fringed shawl she’d brought instead of a jacket.
But the Fates hadn’t finished with her yet.
As she walked back into the bar, the first person she saw was Darius Maynard at a table by the window, talking with apparent intimacy to a girl she’d never seen before, slim and very attractive in a sleeveless red dress, with blonde hair drawn back from her face into a smooth chignon at the nape of her neck
And it seemed Darius had spotted her in return, she thought, her heart sinking as he rose to his feet, smiling faintly.
‘What a delightful surprise. Lindsay and I have been to the cinema in East Ledwick and we just popped in for a nightcap. Would you care to join us?’
‘It’s a kind thought, but I think I’ll pass, if you don’t mind.’ She had no wish to allow any hint of the edgy state of her relationship to become apparent to those shrewd green eyes, currently assessing the deep slash of her neckline. Or expose it to the scrutiny of some strange blonde either. ‘Stuff to do tomorrow and all that.’
‘But the night is still young,’ he said softly. ‘So, what about you, Cartwright? Surely you can talk your lady round?’
‘On the contrary,’ Ian returned, a little frostily. ‘Once Chloe’s made up her mind, it usually stays that way. And I also have a busy day ahead of me. But thanks again, anyway.’
‘I see that leopards don’t change their spots,’ Chloe commented as they walked to the jeep. ‘Who’s his latest fancy?’
‘Her name’s Lindsay Watson,’ Ian said shortly. ‘And she’s his father’s resident nurse.’
Aunt Libby’s charming girl, thought Chloe and gave a faint whistle. ‘Under the same roof, even,’ she said lightly. ‘How very convenient.’
‘Not necessarily.’ Ian started the engine. ‘He’s not irresistible, you know.’
When they reached the Grange, Chloe turned towards him. ‘I won’t invite you in, but does the fresh start merit a goodnight kiss?’ she asked, her voice teasing. ‘Or do we just shake hands?’
‘Of course I want to kiss you,’ he said with sudden roughness. ‘Any man would. Hell, even Maynard was looking at you as if he could eat you.’
He pulled her into his arms, his mouth heavy and demanding where she’d expected tenderness—even diffidence. This was the moment she’d been dreaming of—longing for—yet she was struggling to respond, the thrust of his tongue between her parted lips feeling almost—alien.
As his hand pushed aside the edge of her dress to close on her bare breast, she tore her mouth free and sat up abruptly, bracing her hands against his chest in negation.
‘Ian—no, please.’ she protested hoarsely.
‘What’s the matter?’ He reached for her again. ‘Isn’t this what you want—what tonight was all about?’
Not like this—never like this …
‘But it has to be what we both want. You must see that.’ She spoke more calmly, moving back from him, straightening her dress with finality. ‘And you—to be honest, I just don’t know any more.’
Because suddenly you ‘re a stranger and I don’t like it. Can’t figure how to deal with it.
There was a silence, then he sighed. ‘God, I’m sorry, Clo. You must think I’m insane. I suppose it’s being without you for so long. So, can we simply forget tonight and start again?’
His face was looking strained, almost guilty, but perhaps it was a trick of the dim light.
She said quietly, ‘That’s a good thought.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘Fine.’ She paused. ‘Then—goodnight.’
As she walked up the path to the door, she heard the jeep start up and drive away and realised her legs were trembling.
‘You’re back early.’ There was music coming from the sitting room where Uncle Hal was relaxing, his paper open at the crossword. ‘Have a good time?’
‘As always,’ she returned cheerfully, lowering herself into the chair opposite. ‘What are you listening to?’
‘Mozart, of course. A selection of favourite arias, and this is mine starting now.’ He turned up the sound a little. ‘The Countess lamenting her lost happiness from Figaro. “Dove sono I bei momenti”.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember,’ she said slowly. ‘When you took Aunt Libby and me to Glyndebourne for her birthday. It was wonderful.’ And quoted, ‘ “Where are the beautiful moments of pleasure and delight? Where have they flown, those vows made by a deceitful tongue?” ‘
He nodded. ‘A supreme moment of artistry.’
Then the poignant music and the soaring melancholy of the exquisite soprano voice captured them and held them in silence.
The aria was still in Chloe’s head, plangent and heart-wrenching, as she went up to her room.
Maybe not the ideal thing to have listened to in the circumstances, she acknowledged wryly as she got ready for bed.
Yet nothing had really been lost, she thought. They’d just got off to a rocky start, that was all. And somewhere soon, with Ian, she would find that those ‘moments of pleasure and delight’ hadn’t disappeared at all, but were still waiting for her.
It will all be fine, she told herself, turning on her side and closing her eyes. I know it.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘I MET Sir Gregory’s charming nurse last night,’ Chloe remarked, watching her aunt extract a tray of scones from the Aga. ‘She was in the Willowford Arms having a drink.’
Aunt Libby shot her a swift glance as she transferred her baking to a cooling rack. ‘And you thought—what?’
Chloe shrugged. ‘That she seemed intent on charming her patient’s son and heir.’
‘You mean she was with Darius?’ Her aunt’s brows lifted.
‘Well, they’re both single, so why not? Another blonde, like Penny, of course. He runs true to form.’ Chloe espied a crumb escaping from the rack and ate it.
‘I never noticed he had any particular preference,’ her aunt said drily. ‘However, Lindsay Watson’s a lovely girl as well as being extremely capable with a lot of sense.’ She added slowly. ‘Darius could do far worse.’
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