George sat forward. ‘Perhaps I could make a suggestion?’
I immediately looked wary, Saffron hopeful. ‘What?’ she asked tearfully.
‘You want Frith to organise a bridal party for you, but she can’t spare the time to go to London, right?’ He waited for Saffron to nod, while my brows drew together suspiciously. ‘So why not have the party here?’ he said.
‘Here?’
‘Now I know what you’re going to say.’ George held up his hands to stop Saffron from going any further, focusing on her rather than on me, although he must have been able to feel me glaring at him from the other end of the sofa. ‘You can’t go clubbing in Whellerby. This isn’t London, it isn’t cool...but why not make your party different from all the others? Anyone can go to a club or a restaurant in London. How many people can take over a stately home?’
‘Probably most of Saffron’s friends,’ I said crisply, my gratitude forgotten. I had a sinking suspicion where this was going. ‘There’s no question of—’
‘You mean, like, a house party?’ Saffron interrupted me.
‘Exactly,’ said George.
‘We could wear costumes, like in that TV series...’
‘You’ve got it. You could be the beautiful daughter, your friends can be dashing widows, or young ladies waiting to make their come out, and Frith could be the repressed housekeeper who’s secretly in love with one of the footmen.’
‘Hey—’ I began, but Saffron was already clapping her hands.
‘I love it! Think of the costumes! I’ve always wanted to wear one of those lovely evening gowns. I could wear long gloves!’
Buffy’s treachery was forgotten. Saffron was positively bouncing on the sofa in excitement. ‘Ooh, and we could make it a proper Edwardian house party...assignations in the conservatory, croquet on the lawn, dance cards...dancing!’ Her eyes lit up as the idea caught hold. ‘We could have a ball!’
‘Now see what you’ve done,’ I said to George with a severe look.
‘We’ll have to ask men too,’ Saffron was bubbling on. ‘We can’t have a ball with just girls. But that’s all right. Jax would look super hot in a DJ. A house like this must have a ballroom, right?’
I had heard enough. I held up my hands like a traffic cop. ‘Stop!’ I said so forcefully that Saffron was startled into silence. ‘Now just hold on a minute,’ I said more calmly. ‘We are not having a ball here. Or a dinner. Or anything at all. This is Lord Whellerby’s home. It’s not open to the public.’
‘Yet,’ said George.
‘What?’ I said, thrown by his calm interjection.
‘The conference centre is just part of our strategy to turn Whellerby Hall into the leading venue for events in the north,’ George said, with a glance at Roly, who nodded encouragement. ‘Eventually, we’ll turn the east wing into top-of-the-market accommodation for weddings and parties using the state rooms.’
‘George says we’ll be able to ch-charge an arm and a leg,’ Roly confided.
‘Of course, the east wing needs a lot of renovation before we can do that,’ George added, ‘but as that’s the long-term plan, why don’t we take advantage of Saffron’s celebrity?’
My chest swelled with unreasonable resentment as he sat there, talking persuasively while Saffron and Roly lapped it up. I had had George down as a lightweight, a playboy down on his luck just playing at estate management. He wasn’t supposed to be talking about strategies or long-term plans.
‘You’ve both been too discreet to mention it,’ he went on, ‘but I think we all know how famous she is. Saffron Taylor is the ultimate party girl, and she’s a social leader. Where she goes, others will follow.’
I closed my eyes in despair.
‘We couldn’t ask for better publicity. If Saffron and her closest friends have a private party up here, you can bet your bottom dollar everyone else will be clamouring to do the same. We don’t need to do anything so vulgar as advertise. Word will get round—especially if we ask your friends not to give away the secret location of the party. Before we know where we are, we’ll be beating people off with a stick.’
And so it was decided. I not only had to build a conference centre, I had to organise a costumed house party for a load of spoiled socialites.
I looked out of the window. It had started to rain in earnest.
THREE
‘Make yourself at home, why don’t you?’ I dumped my briefcase on the worktop and raised my brows at George, who was leaning back in a chair with his feet on my kitchen table. And if I didn’t very much mistake the matter, he was drinking my tea out of my mug.
‘I knew you wouldn’t mind,’ he said with that smile that never failed to make my pulse kick, no matter how hard I braced myself against it. ‘I’ve spent all afternoon talking about artificial insemination,’ he said. ‘I was desperate for a drink, but my fridge is empty, so I came to see what you had. All I could find was tea, though.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry about that,’ I said with mock contrition. ‘I didn’t realise that I had to keep a supply of booze in just in case you felt like dropping by.’
‘You’ll get used to country ways soon,’ he said kindly, refusing to rise to my sarcasm. ‘Some beers and a couple of bottles of wine are always good to have in stock. You never know who’ll stop by.’
‘Obviously,’ I said. ‘Is it a country way to break into other people’s houses too?’
‘I didn’t break in. I used a key.’
‘You know, it’s a funny thing, but I could have sworn I locked the door when I left this morning,’ I said.
‘You did, and very sensible it was too, but I happen to have a spare.’ Extracting the key from his pocket, George waved it at me. ‘There’s always one next door in case you ever lose yours.’
‘I’m always careful about my keys,’ I said crushingly, and George studied me over the rim of his mug. My mug, rather.
‘I get the impression you’re careful about everything.’
‘I find it easier that way,’ I said.
Being careful had got me through after Mum had died. Being careful kept my life under control. Being careful kept me safe.
If I wasn’t careful, I would find myself tumbling back into that abyss of grief and loneliness that it had taken such effort to climb out of all those years ago.
I had made a career out of being careful, in fact. I loved the precision of engineering, of putting exactly the right materials together in exactly the right way to build something solid and functional. Something that would stay where you left it and still be there when you went back at the end of the day.
Dropping into the chair across the table from him, I pushed my hair wearily behind my ears.
‘Tired?’
‘One of those days,’ I said, ‘and it didn’t help that Saffron kept me up until the small hours yakking about how excited she was about the party. Thanks for that great idea!’ I added sarcastically to George, who lifted the mug in acknowledgement.
‘Anything to help.’ He let his chair—my chair!—fall back to the floor. ‘I’m sorry if Saffron got carried away, but it was a spur of the moment thing. You looked as if you could do with some support and it was the best I could think of.’