‘That makes sense.’ She amended the proposed route. ‘Although we’re bound to get a few people who stray.’
‘Of course, but I think if you give them the option of a path to follow, most people will use it. Most British people, anyway. We love a bit of order, form a queue and all that.’
Iggy laughed. ‘Good point. People don’t have to stick to the routes, but if we mark them clearly, it should be quite straightforward. And perhaps we should consider whether we want to offer them maps.’ She looked to Arthur for guidance.
‘I’ll have to cost it out, make sure it’s built in when we decide on an admission fee.’ He glanced up at Lucie. ‘Can you highlight that as a job for me to do?’
‘It’s on the list, don’t worry,’ she assured him, tapping her pen on her notebook.
‘And, again, we don’t have to do all of this in one go.’ Tristan pointed out. ‘We can post large maps at starting points of each of the walks and come up with a less intrusive way to mark the routes along the way so we don’t spoil the views.’ Her brothers launched into a discussion over the pros and cons of costing in everything up front versus adding value at a later date.
After a few minutes of the two of them going back and forth Iggy held her hands up. ‘These are all great ideas, and I’m feeling so much more positive than I was yesterday, but we’re getting a bit bogged down in the details. The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of leaving parts of the gardens as they are. It will certainly make life easier for me.’
‘It’s a shame we can’t get one of those garden makeover shows in to do it for us,’ Lancelot chipped in.
‘How strong is that whisky and soda?’ Arthur cast a meaningful look at the amber contents of her uncle’s glass.
Tristan laughed. ‘I can’t see the BBC licence fee payers giving them the thumbs up for spending their hard-earned cash on an ancestral pile like ours.’
‘Well fine, not the BBC, but it’d be nice if you could find some way to get people to help you out.’ Lancelot sounded disgruntled.
‘It’s called money.’
Iggy coughed to cover a laugh at Tristan’s wry comment. ‘It’s a nice idea, but no one’s going to turn up and do the garden for free.’
‘Don’t be so sure about that.’ Lucie, who’d been quiet up to then, sat forward on her seat. ‘My mum loves gardening. One of the worst things about moving to our flat was her losing our lovely back garden.’
Her face clouded for a moment, and Iggy’s heart went out to her and poor Constance. Lucie and her mum had been left with nothing when her father had been arrested as a fraudster when Lucie was still a teenager. Constance had been to stay with them a few weeks previously, and Iggy had adored her almost on sight. Seeing her and Lucie together had been bittersweet, reminding Iggy of how much she’d missed out on thanks to the selfish actions of her own mother.
When Constance had taken an interest in the gardens, it had been a highlight of her visit for Iggy. ‘Phone her and tell her to come visit us again, I’m happy to exploit her for a bit of free labour.’ She was joking, of course, although Constance was welcome any time as far as Iggy was concerned.
‘But she wouldn’t see it as being exploited, she’d be over the moon,’ Lucie said, excitedly. ‘Imagine a little army of enthusiasts given the opportunity to play a part in restoring the gardens to their former glory.’
‘It could work,’ Tristan mused. ‘They get volunteers for all sorts of things-archaeological digs, people acting as guides for the National Trust around their properties, local projects to clear rubbish from canals and waterways. We could give them a few perks. We’d feed them, of course. Perhaps throw in a nice afternoon tea and a behind the scenes tour around the castle. We could call them The Friends of Ludworth Castle, or some such thing.’
Iggy looked around at her family. This was why she needed to stop and ask for help more often. It would be the perfect reason to leave some parts of the garden untouched, and offer an incentive for people to feel invested in the future of the castle. An unexpected lump formed in the back of her throat and she had to swallow around it before she could speak. ‘I love it.’
Before she could say any more, she heard a muffled thump followed by a cacophony of barking from the great hall. Arthur pushed to his feet with a groan. ‘I’d better go and see what that’s all about.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s about time for their evening walk.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Lucie looked to Iggy. ‘Unless you still need me?’
She shook her head. ‘No, you go ahead. Now we’ve got a way forward, I’m feeling much more positive. Tristan can help me decide which sections we can leave for later restoration projects.’
Down on hands and knees. Iggy and Tristan studied the large plan of the grounds. ‘So, I definitely need to focus on the Lady’s garden and reinstating the original central design.’ She circled the area in green.
‘What about the maze? It’ll be a good distraction for kids.’
She circled that too. ‘Yes. It needs reshaping and new gravel for the pathways, but is definitely doable.’ She paused. ‘I haven’t been inside it for years so probably best to assume the benches in the centre will need replacing.’
The door behind them opened again. Glancing back over her shoulder, Iggy saw Arthur pop his head around the door. ‘Umm … Iggy? You’ve got a visitor.’
Before she could scramble up, her brother pushed the door wide to reveal the tall man standing next to him. The biker jacket he was wearing registered first. A distinctive, vintage piece with two grey bands around the upper arms of the sleeves had been paired with a plain grey T-shirt, jeans and trainers, though she’d seen photos of it worn over everything from outlandish board shorts to formal eveningwear complete with black tie. Her brain refused to compute the information it was receiving as she finally shifted her gaze higher, past the five o’clock shadow scattered over a firm chin, the rakish scar cutting into his right cheek she’d always found fascinating, and up to a pair of steel-grey eyes.
Handsome as he was on page and screen, Will Talbot was a stunning presence in the flesh. Heat rushed to her face, as well as a few unmentionable places. The connection between her brain and her mouth finally kicked in. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
As first impressions went, the sight of Iggy Ludworth’s bottom clad in skin-tight denim was right up there as far as Will was concerned. The tempting patch of pale skin above the waistband of those sinful jeans revealed where her top had ridden up made a damn fine second impression; the cascade of dark mahogany curls spilling down almost to meet it, a third. Before he’d even taken in the fine features of her heart-shaped face, he was more than half in love with her. In lust with her might be closer to the mark, he corrected, as he swung the backpack off his shoulder to hang conveniently in front of his body in what he hoped was a casual gesture. For a woman like this he might be willing to break his ‘work and play don’t mix’ rule. More than willing from the urgent signals the rest of his body was sending to his brain-ready and able, too. And, then she snapped at him in that glorious ice-maiden voice of hers, and Will knew he was a goner.
When the furrow between her brows deepened, he realised she was expecting him to respond. Didn’t the woman know what she’d done to him? ‘You asked for my help.’
She sat back on her haunches, making him want to sigh with regret at the loss of his view of her deliciously plump backside. ‘And if I recall our conversation