And yet she’d remained celibate entirely through her own choice. Her creamy skin, tip-tilted hazel eyes with their long lashes and warmly curving mouth had attracted plenty of male attention since her teens.
She’d been sixteen when Ian arrived at the Grange on placement from his veterinary college and, almost from the first, she’d been sure that they were meant for each other.
As soon as he was qualified, he’d come back to work in her uncle’s busy practice, and he was now a full partner.
Soon he’ll be my partner too, she thought and smiled to herself.
He’d proposed for the first time just after she’d left university, but she’d demurred, knowing she wanted to test her newly fledged wings. She’d planned to work as a magazine journalist but jobs in the industry proved elusive, and as a temporary measure she’d joined an agency offering domestic help. Most of her friends at college had worked in bars or waited on restaurant tables to supplement their money, but Chloe, with Aunt Libby’s training behind her, opted for cleaning jobs instead, working in the early mornings and earning a reputation for being reliable, fast and thorough.
She’d just laughed when she was nicknamed Chloe the Char, retorting ‘honest work for honest pay’. Her view on that had never changed.
Ian had not been at all happy when she told him she’d been offered the job at Colestone Manor.
‘It’s one hell of a distance from here,’ he’d protested. ‘I thought you were going to find something locally. That we were going to have some real time together at last.’
‘And so we shall,’ she said. ‘But it’s also a chance to make some real money.’
‘I’m not exactly earning peanuts,’ he returned, his mouth tightening. ‘You won’t be living in penury.’
‘I know.’ She kissed him. ‘But have you any idea what even the smallest wedding costs these days? And Uncle Hal and Aunt Libby have done so much for me all my life. This is one expense I can spare them. Besides, the time will soon pass. You’ll see.’
Only it hadn’t, and Chloe wondered sometimes whether she’d have taken the job if she’d realised how all-consuming it was, with the Armstrongs quite reasonably expecting her to be at their beck and call all day and every day.
Communication with Ian and the family over the past year had been largely through hurried notes and phone calls. Not a satisfactory state of affairs by any means.
But all that was behind her now, she thought, and she could concentrate on the future and turning herself into the ideal niece and the perfect fiancée.
Because of her savings, of course, she didn’t even need to find another job—not immediately. So, she could take her time. Look around. Find the right thing, and stick to it for a couple of years until they decided to start a family.
It was all going to work out perfectly, she told herself and sighed with contentment.
She was waiting for the coffee percolator to finish brewing, when she heard a knock, and Tanya, the nanny to the Armstrong twins put her head round the door.
‘The rumour mill is working overtime,’ she announced. ‘Tell me it’s wrong for once, and you’re not leaving after all.’
‘Oh, but I am.’ Chloe smiled at her and took down a second beaker.
‘Tragedy.’ Tanya slumped into a chair, stretching out long legs, her pretty freckled face disconsolate. ‘Where can I go for sanity when the brats are driving me mad?’
‘What have you done with them at the moment? Tied them to chairs in the nursery?’
‘Dilys is taking them to a tea party—mummies only,’ Tanya said grimly. ‘I wish her luck.’
‘My sympathies are with the hostess,’ Chloe returned, pouring the coffee.
‘Well, spare a thought for me. I’ll be the one left holding the baby—literally—in the South of France while Dilys and Hugo do the Grand Tour from villa to villa and yacht to yacht,’ Tanya said moodily. ‘The only thing holding me together was the prospect of you being there too. I was sure she’d persuade you. Get you to withdraw your notice.’
‘She certainly tried,’ Chloe said cheerfully, handing her a beaker. ‘But no dice. I’m off to get a life.’
‘You have a new job lined up?’
‘Not as such.’ Chloe hesitated. ‘Actually, I’m going to be married.’
Tanya’s eyes went to her bare left hand. ‘To that vet you mentioned back home? I didn’t know you were even engaged.’
‘Well, it’s strictly unofficial as yet. I wasn’t ready before when he asked me, but, now, settling down seems like a really great thing to do, so,’ she added, smiling, ‘I’m going to do it.’
‘Won’t village life seem tame after all this glitz and glamour?’
Chloe shook her head. ‘I’ve never bought into it, any more than you have. I know my priorities and this job was always just a means to an end.
‘Apart from getting my hair cut once a month,’ she went on, running a hand through her mop of dark curls. ‘And having the odd cinema and pizza jaunt with you when we could get time off together, I’ve hardly spent a thing. So I have a lot of money sitting in the bank right now.’
Her smile widened. ‘Enough to pay for a wedding, certainly, and also contribute to the updating of Ian’s cottage, which it sorely needs. Together, we can make it wonderful.’
Tanya’s brows lifted. ‘Does Ian share this view?’
Chloe sighed humorously. ‘He seems to think all a kitchen requires is a stove, a sink and a second-hand fridge. Also that a rusting bath is a valuable antique. I intend to educate him.’
‘Well, good luck to that.’ Tanya raised her beaker in a faintly ironic toast. ‘But maybe he’s already put in a new kitchen in honour of your return. Did you think of that?’
‘He doesn’t yet know I’m coming back. I want to surprise him.’
‘Christmas!’ Tanya eyed her quizzically. ‘You must be very sure of him.’
‘I’m sure of us both,’ Chloe told her serenely. ‘And I can’t wait to get back to Willowford.’ She sighed again. ‘I’ve missed it so much.’
‘It must be a hell of a place to coax you away from the Riviera,’ Tanya commented. ‘What’s so special about it?’
‘Well, it’s not exactly picture-postcard stuff,’ Chloe said, frowning. ‘There are no thatched roofs, and the church is Victorian. Although the Hall is considered rather splendid—Jacobean with later additions.’
‘And does it have a squire who twirls his moustaches and chases the village maidens?’
Chloe’s smile held faint constraint. ‘I don’t think that’s Sir Gregory’s style,’ she said, after a pause. ‘Even if his arthritis allowed it.’
‘Is he married?’
Chloe shook her head. ‘A widower.’
‘Children?’
‘Two sons.’
‘The heir and the spare,’ said Tanya. ‘Very conventional.’
Chloe bit her lip. ‘Not really, because the spare doesn’t feature much any more. There was a gigantic rift a few years ago, and he became persona non grata.’
‘Aha.’ Tanya’s eyes gleamed. ‘This is more like it. What happened?’
Chloe looked away. ‘He had