English Lord, Ordinary Lady. Fiona Harper

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СКАЧАТЬ registered the voice—it was older, but just as clear and precise. He meant to take a good look at the fairy’s older companion, but his gaze was locked with the little girl’s.

      He’d never seen such an intense stare in his life before—not unless he counted looking in the mirror. And she didn’t shy away or hide behind the other girl’s legs as he would have expected. Instead she fixed him with a regal look of superiority and met his curious gaze. Finally, when she’d got the measure of him, she gave a nod of recognition.

      How odd. Children rarely warmed to him. He always felt so stiff and awkward in their presence. But this strange little girl didn’t seem to mind that.

      The noise of the other person getting to her feet drew his attention. Her gaze was just as intense as her friend’s. Although his senses were back on track and he was now fully aware that she was nothing more than human, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was something different about her.

      He shifted his weight onto his other foot.

      ‘The hall is closed to visitors on Thursdays and Fridays until April,’ she said. ‘How did you get in?’

      Will glanced briefly in the direction of the car park. ‘I came in through the gate, of course. I have an appointment with Mr Barrett.’ The man was supposed to be the butler, or something like that. He hadn’t known that real butlers still existed.

      She held out her hand for Hattie’s.

      ‘You’d better follow me, then. This section of the gardens is divided into “rooms”, as the gardener likes to put it. It can be a little confusing if you don’t know your way around.’

      Hattie skipped next to the older girl, who he was now suspecting might be a babysitter rather than a sibling. A multicoloured striped hat that reminded him of a tea cosy with strange pink tassels on either side was pulled down over her ears and she wore a short denim jacket over cargo trousers and clumpy boots.

      He shrugged. Who was he to judge? It was turning out to be a much more practical choice of outfit than his Italian suit as they trudged along the pathways between the hedges. Mud was already clinging to the hems of his trousers and clogging his shoes.

      They entered a large sunken garden filled with vast flowerbeds and a fountain in the centre and at last he had a clear view of the back of Elmhurst Hall.

      He knew enough about architecture to recognise that the building was a patchwork of different periods and styles, some sections dating back to the sixteenth century.

      The wing facing the front gates had obviously been added later, the grand façade, but round the back of the building one could see the history. Different sections had been added by previous owners, all wanting to improve Elmhurst Hall and leave their fingerprint on it. Now it was his turn to do the same.

      It truly was a unique piece of architecture. He could hardly wait to start exploring it.

      A small set of fingers tugged his hand then wiggled their way into his palm until they were clasped in his.

      ‘Come on, Will. It’s this way.’

      Hattie pulled him in the direction of a set of stairs that went through a small square tower. The path then continued upwards and across a spacious flat lawn, ending at a large wooden door that was big enough to squash him flat if it fell off its hinges. He let the little girl drag him forwards, too caught up in absorbing his surroundings to navigate his own way.

      The babysitter was standing in the arch of the tower, frowning down at him as he climbed the steps. He turned to Hattie.

      ‘So, if visitors aren’t allowed today, what are you doing here?’

      ‘Playing princesses and trolls.’

      Her voice was flat and matter-of-fact, as if she expected every visitor to engage in similar activities. ‘I’m the princess,’ she said, spreading her full skirt slightly to emphasise the fact, ‘and Mummy is the troll.’

      There was a small grunt from the figure at the top of the stairs. ‘Mummy always ends up being the troll.’

      She was the child’s mother? Will took a closer look as he climbed towards her. She barely looked older than a teenager herself. Maybe it was her height. She was petite, reaching five feet three at the very most.

      The hand she thrust out for Hattie’s was more an order than a request. Hattie slipped her gloved fingers from his and ran to her mother.

      Something about him put this woman on the defensive. He could see it in the stubborn set of her chin, the way she avoided eye contact. She started off again before he’d caught up, always keeping a good distance between them.

      He followed her, not through the large wooden door in front of them, but round the side of the building into an area that would have been the servants’ entrance in days gone by. Hattie broke free and disappeared through a little door, leaving it open behind her.

      The woman turned to look at him.

      ‘What are you really doing here?’ he said, his usually sharp and inquisitive mind finally whirring away like normal.

      She shrugged. ‘Like Hattie said, we were playing. You couldn’t find a better place to play imaginary games than here.’

      Yes, but there were more suitable ways to go about it than trespassing in the grounds of Elmhurst Hall. He was about to say as much, but downgraded his observation to something less confrontational. ‘You have the owner’s permission?’

      She nodded. ‘In a roundabout way. I work and live here. Use of the grounds is one of the perks of the job.’

      Well, he’d find out more about that later.

      She nodded in the direction of the open door.

      ‘Good luck,’ she said, without any hint of encouragement in her eyes. ‘You’re not the first man in a suit to turn up. You’re wasting your time, though. When Lord Radcliffe died…’ Here she paused, and her voice softened slightly. She shook her head once, as if to swish away an uninvited thought, and continued. ‘I’m guessing you’ll go away empty-handed. There’s precious little left to pay his debts.’

      Now he could study her face properly, he could see why he’d thought she was only a child. She had large eyes and ripe lips set in an elfin face. If it weren’t for that square little chin, she’d look just like a fairy—timeless, ageless, wise.

      ‘Thank you for your advice…’

      She blinked at him.

      ‘Josie.’ As she said her name she reached up and grabbed the tea-cosy hat with one hand.

      ‘I’m not here to…’ The rest of his sentence was forgotten as he realised the bright pink tassels didn’t move with the rest of that hat. He squinted at her then opened his eyes wide.

      Not tassels. Plaits! Little stubby braids in a particularly violent shade of fuchsia.

      This woman was one surprise after another.

      He saw the barest of smiles touch her lips as she turned and stepped over the threshold. СКАЧАТЬ