English Lord, Ordinary Lady. Fiona Harper

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СКАЧАТЬ don’t you go and help yourself to a muffin, poppet? There’s a choice of blueberry or lemon and raspberry.’

      Hattie was across the room in a flash and Will took no time in untangling himself from the table and chair and getting to his feet. He brushed himself down, although he didn’t know why; Hattie didn’t have a speck of dirt on her.

      ‘About the renovations. I’ll get my architect on to it straight away.’

      She didn’t say anything, just nodded, and as he left the tearoom he still wasn’t sure if she was friend or foe.

      Harrington House was visible from a good mile away. Josie’s heart sank into her stomach and the car complained as she crunched it into third gear.

      ‘Hooray!’ Hattie yelled from the back seat.

      If only she could share her daughter’s enthusiasm. How Josie could feel claustrophobic in a house with nearly a hundred rooms was a mystery. But she did. Always had.

      As they approached it seemed to grow and loom over her. Odd. She never felt that way about Elmhurst Hall. Mind you, it was probably less than half the size of this place and, whereas the hall sat in rolling countryside, framed by trees and old woods, Harrington House was almost the only vertical feature in view, built to dominate its surroundings. Built to intimidate.

      She was determined not to let it work on her.

      Still, she felt awfully small as she climbed out of the car and pulled the driver’s seat forward to let Hattie out of the back.

      Hattie ran to the front door, which had opened while Josie had been locking the car, and disappeared inside. Josie pushed the keys into her pocket and walked slowly towards the woman waiting at the threshold.

      They both ignored the awkwardness and leaned in for a stiff kiss.

      ‘Hello, Mum. Lovely to see you.’

      Her mother looked her up and down, her eyes hovering on the pink bunches. She didn’t bother with a reprimand, which was very sensible. It would have done no good.

      ‘You too, Josephine. Your brother is already here.’

      She made her mouth curve. ‘Great. What time’s lunch?’

      ‘We’ll be sitting down at one-thirty.’

      They started the walk across the gargantuan hallway, the heels of her mother’s court shoes giving voice to the tension like the drumbeats of a Hollywood thriller. As they entered the drawing room, Josie’s smile approached something close to genuine.

      ‘Congratulations, Alfie!’ She ran to her older brother and gave him a squeeze. His sandy hair flopped over his forehead as usual and he wore his trademark silly grin, although it was possibly wider and sillier than normal—almost certainly due to the slender girl standing next to him who was staring at her with unabashed curiosity.

      She slapped Alfie on the arm. ‘Didn’t you warn her about me, big brother?’ She gave the girl a kiss on the cheek. ‘Nice to meet you, Sophie. Your fiancé should have filled you in on his naughty little sister. Then again, perhaps he thought it wiser to keep me out of the way until you’d said yes. Let’s see the ring, then.’

      Sophie obediently displayed her left hand.

      Josie made all the motions of admiring the obscenely large diamond. It was so huge and Sophie was so skinny it was a wonder she wasn’t dragging it around on the floor.

      Sophie was still staring at her. ‘Your hair’s…I mean, it’s very…’

      Her eyes widened even further. She probably hadn’t meant to let that slip out, but the poor thing seemed to be in shock, like a startled pheasant from one of her father’s shooting parties.

      ‘I think the word you’re looking for is pink. The name on the box was “Hot-Pants Pink”, if I recall rightly.’

      ‘Really, Josephine!’

      She turned to face her mother and shrugged. She wasn’t apologising for looking as she wanted to look and being who she wanted to be.

      Dinner was as long and tortuous as she’d expected it to be. At least Hattie seemed content to demolish two bowls of some fancy apple tart with mountains of ice cream.

      Poor Sophie—Josie had only known the girl two hours and she already couldn’t think of her without adding the ‘poor’ in front of her name—was almost too scared to chew. Although she needn’t have bothered being so petrified, not with Josie there to suck up all the negative vibes.

      Next to Josie, Sophie looked like a perfect angel. And she certainly seemed like one with her quiet demeanour and impeccable manners.

      Poor Sophie. If she really knew what she was marrying into she’d run a mile, screaming all the way.

      After the meal, when they had retired to the drawing room once again, Josie saw her mother fix a smile to her face and walk over to her.

      ‘Hattie is such a darling, isn’t she?’

      Here we go, thought Josie. Mother was working up to something, she just knew it.

      ‘Yes, she’s a very special girl.’

      Her mother’s face softened as she watched Hattie, lying on the floor with her head bent over a colouring book, the tip of her tongue poking out as she concentrated.

      No doubt her mother approved of the frilly concoction her granddaughter had insisted on wearing. Josie shook her head. Hattie’s tights were spotless and unladdered and there wasn’t a spot of ice cream down the front of her dress.

      Her mother must have been reading her thoughts. ‘She looks charming, doesn’t she? Quite the little lady. When I remember you at her age…’

      Any comparisons were not going to be favourable to Josie. Her mother might as well come straight out and say it: she didn’t know how such a disappointment as Josie had produced something so perfect.

      Truth was, Josie wasn’t quite sure she knew herself. All the seriousness and particular neatness definitely hadn’t come from her.

      And, as far as she remembered, it hadn’t come from Hattie’s father either. Miles was the archetypal playboy. Plenty of charm and sophistication with just a hint of danger. And a smile that had been able to melt her knees at twenty paces. She hadn’t stood a chance.

      And they’d both had too much money and too little sense to behave responsibly. Cue one pregnant eighteen-year-old and two very shocked sets of parents.

      ‘…maybe spend the holidays here?’

      She suddenly became aware she’d drifted off and her mother was asking her a question.

      ‘Pardon, Mum?’

      There was that look again. ‘I was asking whether Hattie should come and spend the summer holidays with us. She could learn to ride.’

      ‘I don’t know what our plans are yet.’

      She knew СКАЧАТЬ