Love And Liability. Katie Oliver

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      “Because…it’s rude, that’s why. Incredibly rude!”

      “It’ll only take me a second, I promise.”

      Oh, crikey, Holly thought as her panic escalated, if Alex played her voice message now, he’d know that his off-the-record comments had been published in BritTEEN. He’d be livid. He’d tell everyone at the table what she’d done, and they’d all think she was a proper berk—

      “I can’t get a signal,” he grumbled after a moment.

      “Oh, yes, you’ll find that, living out here in the country, WiFi can be as unreliable as the Lib Dems,” Alastair remarked. A ripple of laughter went round the table.

      “Let me try,” Holly urged, and held out her hand for the phone.

      Alex frowned. “Perhaps if I just hold it up a bit, I might get one or two bars…”

      In an agony of despair, Holly eyed his mobile. “That’s the new myPhone, isn’t it?” she asked, and lunged for it. “Look at what a lovely, big screen it has! Let me have a look, please!”

      But he held it fast. “Ms James, I’d really rather you didn’t touch my phone—”

      “Don’t worry. I only want to look at it.”

      She reached out and attempted to wrestle it away from him, but he held fast. “Just — let me — see — the bloody — thing!” she hissed.

      Unfortunately, as Holly grappled with Alex to wrest control of his mobile, it flew out of their hands and sailed aloft, landing with a dull splash in the tureen of vichyssoise that Mrs Henley had just set out on the table.

      There was a moment of horrified silence.

      “My vichyssoise!” Mrs Henley gasped.

      “My phone!” Alex exclaimed, and half rose from his seat. “You’ve ruined it!”

      “I’m certain it’s fine,” Holly assured him, although secretly she had her doubts. She leaned forward and fished the mobile, dripping with creamy leek, potato, and chicken stock, out of the tureen and held it up gingerly. “See? It’s perfectly okay. A little vichyssoise never hurt anything.”

      Alex snatched it away from her. “Bloody hell,” he snapped as he sat back down, “you’re mad. Bonkers. If you’ve ruined my phone, you’re buying me another.”

      “Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Just wipe it off and pop it in a zip-top bag with a bit of rice for a few hours. It’ll be right as rain by tomorrow. Hopefully.”

      He glared at her. “In the meantime, no thanks to you, I have no mobile phone, and no one can reach me, nor can I reach anyone else.”

      “I’m doing you a favour,” Holly reassured him. “Think about it — no unwanted calls from your boss! No sales pitches! No awkward conversations with that not-so-great-looking girl you met at the wine bar last night!”

      “And no unwanted conversations with my stark raving mad dinner partner, either,” Alex snapped, and turned pointedly away to converse with the woman on his right.

      “Mrs Henley, have we another starter to serve our guests?” Cherie murmured anxiously as the cook reached out to remove the vichyssoise tureen from the table.

      “I’ll go and fetch the oxtail soup.” Mrs Henley scowled. “I made it for tomorrow’s luncheon, but it’ll do, I reckon.” Grumbling, she exited the dining room.

      A few minutes later, a tureen of oxtail soup replaced the vichyssoise, and Holly turned to Lady Blandford. “Mrs Henley’s oxtail soup is really good. Would you like some?”

      “I would indeed! I adore oxtail soup.”

      And as Holly dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and listened to her ladyship drone on about her failures and successes with the various recipes for oxtail soup she’d tried over the years, relief swept over her.

      Alex might be furious with her at the moment, and he might think her completely mad, but his irritation wouldn’t last. And his phone really would dry out eventually.

      And best of all, she’d succeeded in keeping Alex Barrington from hearing her message. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

      Despite Mrs Henley’s fears, there were plenty of eggs for breakfast the next morning. Holly helped herself to a generous portion of soft-boiled eggs and toast soldiers from the sideboard. And what the hell, she decided, even though she normally shunned meat, that bacon looked really good, too…

      “Good morning, Ms James.”

      Holly looked up guiltily, bacon clamped in the tongs she held over her plate, to see Alex entering the dining room. He wore jeans and a faded blue-and-green striped rugby shirt, and he looked…well…fit. Very, very fit.

      She noticed he also still looked a bit put out.

      “Hello.” Holly indicated the empty dining room. “It looks like we’re the only ones up so far.”

      “I’m not surprised. It’s a bit early.” He eyed her plate, heaped liberally with eggs, toast, tomatoes, and bacon. “Hungry this morning, are you?”

      She glared at him. “It’s rude to comment on one’s eating habits, you know.”

      “Sorry. It’s just that I never knew a girl who ate like a footie player before.” He joined her at the sideboard, picked up a plate, and asked conversationally, “So, do you punt for Arsenal, or United?”

      “Ha ha. If we go for a walk with the dogs this morning, believe me, you’ll need every single calorie.”

      “I see. Consider me suitably chastened. At any rate,” he added as he took his filled plate and sat down across from her at the dining-room table, “it’s refreshing to see a girl with an appetite. No food issues here.” He picked up a bottle of HP Sauce and poured it liberally over his eggs and fried potatoes.

      She raised her brow. “I see you drown everything in brown sauce.”

      “It’s rude to comment on one’s eating habits. Or so I’m told.”

      “Did you put your phone in a zip-top bag with rice, like I told you?” she asked as she dunked a toast soldier in egg.

      “I did. I’ll check it later today.” He eyed her over his toast. “You’d best hope it works, Ms James.”

      “It will.” She studied his half-eaten plate of food. “Well, hurry up and eat. The day’s wasting.”

      When they finished breakfast, they went into the foyer to let the dogs out of doors for a ramble across the fields. Delirious with joy, the mastiffs streaked across the grass, racing each other and gambolling like children, until Holly whistled for them to settle down. The weather was glorious, all blue skies and mild breezes, as she and Alex set out after them.

      “Are you and Camilla an item?” she asked casually.

      He glanced СКАЧАТЬ