by Lorna Peel
“His sister?” Michelle asked.
Sophia swallowed. “Yes.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“I fancied him from the start. Bloody hell it’s so corny but he’s tall, dark and handsome. But he’s got an awful temper and he smokes.”
Michelle shrugged. “You can’t have everything.”
“No. We just…talk. He’s shy and he’s lonely. He hates to admit it but he is. Everyone just treats him like ‘Lord Heaton’ and it’s like he’s become this character and he has to keep on playing it. I mean, he continually calls me Ms Nelson. He’s never once called me Sophia.”
“And what do you call him?” Michelle frowned.
“Lord Heaton,” she replied. “It sounds ridiculous but he’s never once asked me to call him Thomas.”
“And you never once thought to ask him to call you Sophia?” Michelle added and Sophia shrugged. “Does he fancy you?”
“Yes.”
“What?” Michelle had reached for her mug but had to put it down again. “How do you know?”
“He, um, draws people. He’s got drawings of me.”
Michelle stared at her until the penny dropped. “He draws dirty pictures of you? Yuck. Don’t you find that creepy?”
“Creepy? No. I don’t think they’re dirty pictures, anyway. If I didn’t feel the way I do about him, then, I probably would find it weird, yes.”
“Bloody hell.” Michelle picked up her mug and took a gulp of coffee.
“And I’ve overheard him on the phone to a friend. Talking about me.”
“Oh?” Michelle put the mug down. “And?”
“He’s shy,” Sophia told her. “And he says he’s my boss and all that.”
“What did the friend say?”
“To go for it, you only live once.”
“But he hasn’t?”
Sophia sighed. “Stephanie’s moved into the third flat in the stable yard. She had a kind of housewarming. We all got drunk on cheap whisky and to cut a long story short, Heaton and I ended up together in the living room of Stephanie’s flat.”
“And?” Michelle asked eagerly.
“And we kissed a lot, he took off my top, I took off his shirt, we kissed a lot. Then Stephanie fell out of bed.”
Michelle pulled a disbelieving expression. “What?”
“I’d heard a crash earlier,” she explained. “Heaton and I went back up to her flat to see what was wrong. She’d fallen out of bed. That’s why we were alone there together.”
“Okay, right.” Michelle nodded. “So she fell out of bed again…”
“And Heaton came to his senses, kind of, and made excuses. He said he didn’t want me drunk and that he was my boss. I shouted and swore at him a bit and he shouted back at me and then I left. But then I got a letter from him the next morning all typed and official, apologising for his behaviour the previous night; that it was highly inappropriate and that if I wanted to go to a tribunal or something that he would completely understand. I don’t want to go to a fucking tribunal, I want to pull all his clothes off him and go to bed with him.”
Michelle began to laugh. “Oh, God, sorry. Jesus, you have got it bad. Write him a letter and say that. Maybe not quite like that but…”
“He’d sent me emails, too. He says stuff in his emails that he can’t say face to face and he was drunk that night.”
“So they were a bit…?” Michelle waggled her head from side to side suggestively.
“They were very…for him, you know what I mean?”
“Have you still got them?”
She shook her head. “No, he deleted mine so I deleted his.”
“Great.”
“I just don’t know what to do, Michelle.” She sighed.
“Do you like it there? Apart from him?”
“Yes. The job’s great and so is the flat. And I can see right into his office from the window of the living area.”
“Okay, ask yourself this: is this lust or love?”
Sophia grimaced. “Heaton’s friend said more or less the same thing to him.”
“And what did he say?” Michelle asked.
She shrugged. “He didn’t really answer.”
“Well, you answer me. What is it? Try and forget that he’s your boss.”
“Love,” she replied quietly. “It was lust but not now.”
“Do you think it would work out? I mean, he’s a lord. Your dad will go nuts.”
“Dad knows he fancies me,” she said. “He saw it at the funeral. But all he can see is the ‘lord thing’.”
“The ‘lord thing’ is all a lot of people will see,” Michelle told her quietly.
“I know,” she replied miserably.
“Do you think he’d ever make the first move?”
“No, I doubt it.”
“Then, it’s up to you, girl.” Michelle squeezed her arm. “That’s your mission should you choose to accept it. I just hope he’s a better man than Lee. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“Thanks. And thanks for listening. I needed someone to just talk it all out to.”
Michelle smiled. “And what will you do?”
“Try and pluck up the courage to go for it.”
Sophia collected the photographs the following Monday, sat in the car, and pulled them out of the wallet. She sighed. In every photograph, Heaton smouldered, even in the ones orchestrated by Stephanie. If things got really bad, there would definitely be work for him as a model.
She drove back to the abbey, went straight to his office, and knocked.
“Yes?”
“The photographs,” she announced, opening the door.
He pulled a pained expression. “Are they awful?”
“No, they’re very good, actually.” She passed the envelope to him and watched as he pushed his glasses up his nose and went through them, stopping at the photograph of her. She tried her best not to blush.
“It came out,” he exclaimed.
“Unfortunately.”
“I think it’s very good, considering that it’s my one and only attempt.” He groaned as he came to the last few. “Oh, my God. Stephanie really expects me to give Lady Heaton one of these?”
“I think that one is the best.” She extracted it and put it on the desk.
“Why that one?”
“Because it is the least self-conscious one of you. You could give that one to Lady Heaton and not be embarrassed. What are you working on?” She nodded to the sheet of paper which he’d turned over when she came in.
“Me. And it’s been agony.”
“Is it finished?”
“More or less.”
“Am I allowed to see?”
He grimaced and turned the sheet of paper over.
She clapped a hand over her mouth. He had demonic eyes, it looked as though his tie was choking him, his eyebrows were almost together in a frown and there was smoke coming out of his ears.
“That’s brilliant.”
“Thank you very much,” he replied. “I had thought I was being a bit too hard on myself.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve had Vincent Graves on the telephone,” he went on. “There’s going to be a launch of the tourism brochure on Friday evening. I’ve been invited, and I can bring a guest, too. I was wondering if you’d come along and help me plug this place? Apparently, someone from the local paper is going to be there, too. And seeing as you’re the tour guide…?”
“Where is the launch?” she asked.
“The town hall. Look, there’s bound to be lots of boring speeches, you don’t have to come.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Oh?” He stared at her in some surprise. “Oh, okay, then. Good.”
Back at the flat, the first thing she did was to ring Michelle. “Are you going to the tourism brochure launch?”
“Me? No, I’m only part-time. Full-timers and big wigs only. Why?”
“Lord Heaton’s been invited and he’s asked me to go, too,” she explained.
She blew out her cheeks. “I did, but I’m kind of regretting it now. I thought you’d be there. Oh, well, it’ll only be for a couple of hours. Have you seen the brochures yet?”
“I have. They were delivered this morning. They’ve printed a picture of you, too.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, no.”
“But it’s a lovely picture – you and a load of Americans.”
“What about the rest?” she asked.
“Well, you neglected to tell me just how seriously gorgeous Lord Heaton is, which I’m very annoyed about. Handsome doesn’t do him justice at all. Women will be flocking to the place just to get a glimpse of him.”
“And then having to make do with me,” she muttered.
Michelle laughed kindly. “Let me know how it goes, won’t you?”
Heaton knocked at the flat door at seven thirty on Friday evening and she checked her appearance for the hundredth time before going downstairs. Ignoring her navy blue suit which would now be forever linked to her mum’s funeral, she had opted for her brown pinstripe trouser suit and a white blouse. Dressy but not too dressy.
Heaton was in a brown suit she hadn’t seen before but, then again, he probably had a wardrobe full of the things.
“The taxi’s here,” he said unnecessarily as it halted behind him.
“Right.”
“Let’s just hope this isn’t too boring.”
The taxi deposited them outside the town hall and they made their way up the magnificent central staircase to a large reception room. Once inside the room, Heaton stopped dead and grabbed her arm. Puzzled, she looked to where he was staring at in horror. Bloody hell, it was a huge enlargement of the brochure, and he was on the front cover. Standing at the front door with a slight smile. God, it was almost life size.
“Oh, no,” he hissed. “He never said that I’d be going on the front.”
“Lord Heaton.” The mayor rushed across the room to them. “You’re very welcome.”
“Yes.” Heaton tore his eyes away from the enormous front cover. “Thank you.”
“Impressive, isn’t it?” The mayor nodded towards the display.
“Er.” She saw Heaton fighting to gather himself together. “Sorry. I didn’t realise that it would be my picture on the cover.”
“Oh, I see.” The mayor laughed. “And this is…?”
“Sophia Nelson,” she said, putting out a hand. “I’m the tour guide.”
“Excellent.” He shook it. “Come and have a drink.”
“This is going to be bloody awful,” Heaton muttered as they followed the Mayor across to a table laden with glasses and bottles of wine and sparkling water.
“Sorry, I had no idea.”
“Try and get a look at the article, will you please?” he begged.
“Red or white?” The mayor asked.
“Red.” They answered at the same time and the mayor laughed. Heaton glared at him before taking a glass and passing it to her.
She made her way to the stand and picked up a brochure, flipping through the pages until she came to the feature.
Heaton Abbey House Opens its Doors to the Public
She quickly scanned through the feature and sighed with relief. If Vincent had done a hatchet-job she would never have forgiven him but that would have been like cutting off his nose to spite his face seeing as the Abbey House was now the biggest tourist attraction in the area.
“Well?” Heaton joined her. “Dare I read the article?”
“Yes, because you come across very well. Vincent did a good job.”
“Well, that’s a relief because that,” he looked up at himself with disgust, “is bloody terrible.”
“Try and ignore it. We’d better mingle.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
She made her way across the room to Janice Brown who worked with Michelle in the tourist office.
Janice greeted her with a smile. “His Lordship doesn’t look happy.”
“He didn’t know he was going to be on the cover.”
“Well, it was either him or the mayor and as the whole idea is to attract people here and not frighten them away…” She tailed off and Sophia smiled. “So, how are things up at the abbey?”
“I like it there.”
“And what’s he like to work for?” Janice asked.
“Fine.”
“Only fine?” Janice’s eyebrows rose.
“I have no problems working there,” she elaborated. “Both he and Lady Heaton are very pleasant.”
“But he’s gorgeous.”
Sophia could feel herself beginning to blush. “He is better looking than the mayor, I’ll give you that.”
“That wouldn’t be bloody hard,” Janice smirked.
“He’s not giving a speech, is he?” Sophia asked. “The mayor?”
“Of course he is, you know he loves the sound of his own voice. Oh, here we go.” Janice groaned as the mayor made his way over to the display, a clearly reluctant Heaton following.
“My Lord, ladies and gentlemen,” he began and laughed.
Heaton rolled his eyes and Janice sighed. “Asshole,” she muttered.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming this evening to launch the town’s first, and hopefully first of many, tourist brochures. As you know, since the destruction of the town’s mining museum we have been without a major tourist attraction in the area. However, with thanks to Lord Heaton, here, we now have Heaton Abbey House and gardens open to the public – a major attraction right on our doorstep…”
The mayor rabbitted on for a further ten minutes before the photographer from the local paper began taking photographs.
Janice nudged her. “I think they want you over there for a photo.”
“Oh, no.” She trudged across the room.
“Ah, Sophia.” The mayor beamed at her. “You stand here.” She stood uncomfortably between Heaton and the mayor and grimaced as the photographs were taken. “All done?” He asked the photographer, who nodded. “Excellent. Thank you all.”
“Are you okay?” she asked Heaton once they were alone.
“Not really.” He threw a glare at the mayor’s back. “Did you see me standing there like a complete arse?”
“The mayor is the complete arse, not you.”
Finally, he smiled. “Another drink, I think. Red or white?”
“Red, please. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
She went out into the corridor in search of the ladies toilets. Spotting a sign, she headed in that direction, only to almost collide at the corner with the mayor coming out of the gents.
“Ah, Sophia Nelson. Anything to Willie?”
“No, he’s a country and western singer,” she replied briskly and went to go past him.
“What’s the hurry?” He stepped in front of her.
“I thought that was obvious. Now, excuse me.”
“You’re very pretty.”
Oh, yuck, go away. “I said, excuse me.”
“Your mum was very pretty, too,” the mayor added.
“I beg your pardon?” She stared up at him.
“I was your mum’s first boyfriend, her first kiss.”
“Really.”
“We were stepping out for a long time,” he explained. “Then she met Willie.”
“His name is William,” she told him tightly.
“Dropped me like a stone, she did. For Willie bloody Nelson.”
“I see. Right. Well, excuse me.”
“You’re not like that, are you, Sophia?” he asked. “Planning on dumping anyone soon? Lord Heaton would be a good catch and by the way he was sizing you up earlier I’d say he’d be in your knickers quick as a flash if you let him.”
She slapped his face hard. “You’re drunk.”
“Not drunk enough to get a kiss off of you.”
Before she could react, he had grabbed her shoulders, and thrown her up against the wall.
&nb
sp; “Hey?” She heard a shout and feet running towards them. Someone began to haul the mayor away from her. “Get away from her.” It was Heaton. She managed to escape and watched as the mayor was thrown against the wall. “If I ever catch you near her again, I will kill you.”
“Quite a threat, your Lordship.” The mayor laughed.
“I mean it.”
“Yes, well, I am the mayor and you are…what? Baron Heaton. A useless title. Can’t sit in the House of Lords anymore so what’s the point of you? When I was a lad you lot owned the mine. Now you have to rely on coach tours to survive. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, eh?”
Heaton gave him a good shake then let him go. Sophia shot a glance down the corridor towards the corner and the reception room beyond. Miraculously, no-one had heard. Heaton took her hand and led her towards the staircase. Halfway down the stairs, she stumbled and he had to grab her other arm to stop her from falling. He got her to the bottom and onto a bench.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head. “He said he knew my mum.”
“I know, I heard.”
That meant he had heard the comment about getting in her knickers, too. “I didn’t think he was that drunk.”
“Drunk or not, he should bloody-well know how to behave.”
“Yes.”
“Well, this has been a fantastic evening, hasn’t it?” He sighed.
She spluttered a laugh. “I have had better. Thank you for rescuing me.”
“It was nothing.”
“No, I mean it. I couldn’t move.” Looking down at her hands, she saw they had started to shake. He gently took them in his own hands and held them tightly.
“Did you follow me?” she asked.
“The mayor followed you. I followed the mayor.”
“How?” she added. “He was coming out of the gents?”
“By the time you found the toilets, he had more or less run the circuit of that floor and was pretending to come out of the gents,” he explained.
“Oh. No-one’s ever done that to me before.”
“I should bloody-well think not. Do you look like your mother?” he asked.
“Yes, a bit, but she had brown eyes and I’ve got Dad’s blue eyes.”
“When I was small, people used to tell me that I had my mother’s eyes.” He shrugged and smiled wryly. “Let’s find a taxi and go home. We’ll have a proper drink in the library.”
