‘Stop trying to put me off, it won’t work. Tim told me the other day I’m getting a bit paunchy.’ Charlie touched a hand to the slight roundness of his stomach well disguised by the impeccable cut of his jacket. ‘I can already picture myself striding around the Derbyshire countryside with a whippet at my heels.’ He frowned, thoughtfully. ‘That’s what you North-country types have isn’t it?’
‘Either that or a ferret stuffed down our trousers, yes,’ Tristan responded with a wry grin. ‘If you want to walk the dogs every day, Arthur will probably love you forever.’ He paused to signal to the waiter that they were ready for coffee. ‘Seriously though, the castle is set right on the edge of the dales so there’s no shortage of walking to be done – weather permitting, of course. And the estate has its own woods and plenty of parkland. There’s also stables if you ride …’
Charlie pulled a face. ‘I can’t see myself on the back of a horse, but the idea of getting out of town and away from the endless round of parties is very appealing. We’ll have to talk Tim around to the idea, but you can do that later when you join us in the pub for drinks.’
Damn, now how was he going to duck out of it without causing offence? ‘I’m not sure if I’ll have time, what with seeing Iggy and Will this afternoon.’ Probably best not to mention he was staying in their spare room during his visit, or that he wasn’t going back home until the day after tomorrow.
‘Nonsense. You have to come. Now you’re leaving us in the lurch, it’s the least you can do.’ It was said with a smile, but there was no getting around Charlie’s disappointment at his continued attempts to evade the celebration.
‘The party is for Jess, I don’t want to crash in at the last minute.’ Tristan tried one last time to get out of it.
‘Rubbish. She won’t mind, she’ll probably be relieved. You know how she is when there’s too much fuss. Hold on a minute.’ Before Tristan could say anything, Charlie whipped out his phone and made a call. ‘Jessica? Charlie, here. What? Yes, everything is fine with the Centrifuge account, and besides, it’s not your problem anymore, is it?’
Tristan listened as Charlie laughed. ‘Okay, Little Miss Conscientious, in three and a half hours it won’t be your problem anymore. Look, I’m with Tristan, and he’s decided to quit on me as well. I told him he should come for drinks tonight, but he’s being stubborn. Have a word, will you?’ With that he thrust his phone across the table, leaving Tristan no choice but to pick it up.
‘Hi, Jess.’
‘Hello, stranger.’ The phone emphasised the natural huskiness of her voice, and he could instantly picture her, long dark hair wrapped up in one of those practical knots his fingers always itched to undo, a little crease of concentration furrowing her brow as her hands flew across her keyboard. ‘Causing trouble, as usual?’
He laughed. ‘You know me too well.’ But not half as well as he might wish. ‘I’m staying in Derbyshire for the foreseeable future, and Charlie has decided he’s never going to forgive me.’
‘I’m not,’ Charlie bellowed loud enough to be heard. ‘And the same goes for you too, Jessica. Pair of traitors.’
‘Here we go again,’ Jess muttered, giving Tristan the impression Charlie had put a lot more pressure on her about leaving than he had received. It didn’t do much for his ego, but it would be churlish to feel any resentment. Her tone brightened. ‘Well at least if you’re leaving, too, that takes some of the heat off me.’
‘Cheers,’ Tristan said, wryly. ‘Thanks a bunch. Listen, Charlie wants me to come along to your leaving drinks tonight, but I don’t want to crash your party.’
‘Oh God, crash it, please crash it!’ she begged. ‘I told them I didn’t want to do anything, but you know what they’re like.’
‘Any excuse for a party.’ It was the company’s unofficial motto, and, after all, the way they made most of their business.
‘Exactly! Please, say you’ll come.’ She was quiet for a long moment. ‘It’d be nice to see you again.’
Well, hell, how on earth was he going to refuse now? ‘It’ll be nice to see you too.’
What was he going to wear tonight? He hadn’t packed much, having only planned to be away for a couple of days. He’d worn a suit for lunch with Charlie, but that would be a bit over the top for the pub given he wasn’t coming from the office. They were only going to the pub, surely a shirt and jeans would suffice? And why was he bothered about it anyway?
‘Hello? Earth to Tristan.’ Iggy snapped her fingers a bare inch from his nose, making Tristan flinch back in surprise.
‘Hey, stop that.’ He batted her hand away.
‘Well, if you’d stop daydreaming for five minutes, I wouldn’t have to.’ His sister slouched back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. ‘It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do other than give up our time to help you out.’
Tristan didn’t know what the hell had got into her, but Iggy had been in a foul mood from the moment he’d returned to the apartment she shared with Will. They’d gathered around the big island in the kitchen that doubled as a table to discuss how to transform the castle grounds into something spectacular, but she’d done nothing but snipe and snap at him since they’d sat down.’
Will leaned over from his seat to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. ‘Leave your poor brother alone, he’s not going to ruin your garden.’
Iggy scowled at Will, but there was no mistaking the way her body language softened when he tucked his hand under her hair to stroke a light caress. ‘He can’t even pay attention long enough to listen to what we have to say about it, how can I trust him?’
Now he understood what was at the heart of her mood, Tristan had nothing but sympathy for his sister’s position. She loved Bluebell Castle – probably more than he and Arthur did combined – and she’d surprised them all by her decision to move away. It was clear to anyone she adored Will, and he her, and his horticultural business was based in London so the move made sense. They were working to diversify the brand, to leave the refurbishment projects which had been the bread and butter of the business in the hands of their experienced installation team so Will and Iggy could focus on their new passion for bringing gardening to schools and deprived inner city areas, and Tristan understood how important it was for his sister to strive to build a life away from their childhood home. Not because she didn’t love it there, but because she’d been the de facto mistress of the castle for several years and she was determined to surrender that role to Lucie. But the gardens were her baby, and Tristan needed her to know that he understood that, that he would honour all the hard work she had put into them and preserve her legacy.
Pulling his chair close on her other side, he slung an affectionate arm around her waist. ‘I won’t screw this up, Iggle-Piggle, I swear.’
Though his use of her hated nickname earned him a punch in the arm, it was immediately followed by a swift, hard hug. ‘I know, it’s just …’
‘I know.’ Tristan gave her a squeeze before shuffling his chair back. ‘When it comes to the grounds, you’re still the boss. Consider me your on-site eyes and ears, but I won’t do anything that the three of us haven’t agreed in advance.’
‘And we’ll go up for as many weekends as we can spare. And a whole week at half-term,’ Will assured her.
‘That’s a lot of unnecessary miles,’ Iggy protested. ‘When I’m just being precious about it.’
‘Bollocks to that,’ Will retorted, before digging in his pocket with a sigh and dropping a pound coin into a jar on the table. ‘I can’t believe that meddling assistant of mine talked you into having a swear jar at home as well as in the office. A man should be able to eff and blind in the peace of his own bloody kitchen.’