‘Maggie believes she is your friend. She says she definitely would have been if your husband had let her close. She’ll be staying at the castle over Christmas as well. She’s our Christmas housekeeper.’
‘But how did you two ever meet?’ She glared again at Angus and took a deep breath, obviously fighting against intrinsic revulsion at his appearance. ‘How did you meet...the Earl...if this is the first time he’s ever come to the castle?’
‘I’m a chef,’ Holly said promptly. ‘Of international renown.’ She glanced down at her bright clothes and grinned. ‘I know, I don’t look like it, but look at my hands.’ She held them out to Delia for inspection and for the first time Angus looked, too. Really looked.
These weren’t your normal society miss’s hands. They were work-worn hands, hands that had spent years in washing-up water, hands that had come through a long apprenticeship of sharp knives and hot stoves. Her work was on display via her hands and Delia’s face softened even further. She reached out and touched them.
‘Maggie’s granddaughter,’ she said wonderingly. ‘How...’
‘He’s eaten my food,’ Holly said—which was true, even if it was toasted sandwiches made on the run during the last couple of crazy days. ‘And of course when someone said he was the Earl of Craigenstone, how could I not introduce myself and ask if he knew my gran?’ She grinned. ‘Do you believe in love at first sight?’
‘I don’t believe in love,’ Delia said sharply but she was watching Holly’s hands, looking at the great Craigenstone ring, looking doubtful.
Her armour was indeed cracking. She was believing Holly, and suddenly Angus was feeling the magnitude of what he’d asked Holly to do.
Holly was lying for him.
He hadn’t asked her to. Well, maybe he had, in asking her to pretend to be engaged, and he ought to have thought that the first thing Delia would ask was how they’d met.
Holly was lying. It felt...huge.
‘You’re really a chef,’ Delia whispered and Holly nodded and handed Scruffy over to the oldest kid.
‘You’re Ben?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ Ben said, and Angus saw conflicting emotions. He still did want to come to the castle, he thought, but he didn’t want to hurt his mum.
‘And I’m Mary,’ the second kid said. Mary, around thirteen, skinny as well, looking more belligerent than Ben. ‘I hope you’re looking after my badgers. There are so many setts on the estate. McAllister promised to look after them for me. Did you know there’s a whole...’
‘And I’m Polly,’ the ten-year-old interrupted importantly. ‘And Melly’s my cat. I’ve only just got her and if Mac’s going to chase her then you’ll have to do something.’
‘Mac?’
‘I think that’s Mac,’ Polly said doubtfully, looking at Scruffy. ‘But he used to be fatter.’
‘Mac,’ Mary said, frowning. Up until now, the entire focus of Scruffy had been centred on the cat, but now Mary walked forward and touched Scruffy tentatively on the nose. ‘Mac!’
And suddenly the little dog was a wriggling ball of excitement, squirming in Angus’s arms until he released him. Mary gathered him up and hugged him and sniffed, and then beamed.
‘Mac,’ she said emotionally. ‘Mac!’
And the tension went out of the air, just like that. Credentials established, via the dog.
‘So we have Melly, Polly and Holly for Christmas,’ Holly said, grinning and watching Scruffy-Mac try to lick Mary’s face. ‘And Ben and Mary, plus whoever else is there. Excellent.’ She turned to Delia. ‘I will take care of them.’
But Delia had more questions—of course she had. ‘Is he marrying you because you’re a cook?’ Delia asked brusquely, turning away from watching Mary and the dog. ‘To save him money? Like his father saved money by marrying his housekeeper?’
‘He’s not saving money and I’m not a cook,’ Holly declared stoutly. ‘I’m a chef, and I’m very expensive. You have no idea how much I’ve already cost him and continue to cost him.’ Her face softened. ‘Angus says you’re going into hospital tomorrow.’
‘I...yes.’
‘Do you have plans for tonight’s dinner?’
‘We’re buying takeaway,’ Ben said diffidently.
‘But we don’t like it,’ Polly ventured. ‘Grandma’s coming so it has to be fish and chips ’cos that’s all she likes and the cheap place sells soggy chips.’
‘You don’t like soggy chips?’
‘Yuk!’
‘Then let me cook dinner for you tonight,’ Holly begged. ‘For all of you. For all of us. Let me show you how I can cook.’ She smiled at Delia—a smile Angus hadn’t seen before, a smile that somehow made something twist inside him. ‘Let me take care of you tonight as I swear I’ll take care of the kids while they’re at Castle Craigie. There’s no dragon Earl now. There’s just me—Holly—my cooking and Christmas, and there’s Angus, who doesn’t even want to be an Earl. Give us a chance, please.’
* * *
How could anyone deny an appeal like that? Angus surely couldn’t, and neither could Delia. Holly had wrapped this little family round her little finger by dinner. With dinner.
There was no doubting Holly was a chef. From the get-go they all knew it. Her organisational skills left everyone breathless.
‘Right. This is a feast and everyone gets to be included. You tell me your favourite foods and I’ll make a list. Your grandma’s not here yet but she likes fish and chips? She can’t really like soggy chips, though. Anything else? Do you think she might prefer lobster?’
‘You can’t afford...’ Delia started but Angus knew when it was time to step in, so step in he did.
‘Cost is no problem,’ he said grandly and Delia cast him a surprised look and Holly cast him a grateful look, and it was the grateful look that did that twisting again.
‘Cream puffs,’ Polly ventured.
‘Tacos,’ Ben said, looking defiantly at his mother.
‘They don’t go with fish and chips,’ Delia managed but Holly waved objections aside.
‘Of course they do. We’ll just throw in another course. Delia, what would you like?’
‘Chicken soup,’ she said breathlessly, still disbelieving. ‘I’ve been wanting home-made chicken soup since they told me I had to have the operation and if you made some... I could put some in the freezer for when I get home.’
‘This is looking like a cool menu,’ Holly said. ‘Mary, what about you?’
‘Chocolate pudding,’ Mary breathed. ‘The kind where the chocolate oozes out. I saw it on telly. Can you make that?’
‘Only if we’re fast,’ Holly said. ‘Ben, Angus...’
‘Yes?’ Angus said, bemused.
‘You’re on shopping duty. Make a list. Ready?’
‘Ready,’ Angus managed.
‘Right. Write. Go!’
* * *
‘He really is crazy about you.’
Holly was preparing the mix for the chocolate puddings. Mary and Polly were spooning cream puff mixture onto trays. Delia was sitting beside Holly at the table. She was peeling potatoes—and watching Holly.
‘No Earl that I know ever fell in love with his bride,’ she said matter of factly. ‘There’s always a reason. Angus’s father married his mother for money and prestige, and then me for convenience. But you... He can’t keep his eyes off you.’
‘Then I guess he’s marrying me because I wear scarlet sweaters,’ she retorted. ‘Speaking of which, it’s a bit hot. Do you have an apron?’
But Delia was not to be deflected. ‘I didn’t think Earls could fall in love.’
‘My gran says the acorn never falls far from the tree, too,’ Holly said. ‘But I don’t think that’s true. I think Angus is a truly nice person.’
‘And rich
,’ Delia said, and Holly chuckled and looked down at the ring.
‘And rich. Obscenely rich.’
‘I never got a ring,’ Delia said and looked at her bare hand.
‘Never?’
‘Never.’
‘Did you divorce?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘It would have cost money.’
‘Then you’re still married to him,’ Holly said slowly.
‘He’s dead.’
‘But you’re his widow.’ She stared down at the ring and then stared at Delia’s arthritic hands. Something twisted. She’d worn a ring for two years and it had meant nothing. This woman had never worn a ring, and something deep inside her told her it could have meant everything.
Behind her, Angus and Ben had arrived back with their load of groceries. How much had they heard? All of it? But Angus was staying silent. She glanced back at her pretend fiancé and his face was impassive.
He’d given this ring to her. It was her wage for pretending to be the Craigenstone bride, and if it was her wage...
She could do whatever she wanted with it.
And what had he said? ‘If it means these kids can have a good Christmas then it’ll have gone to a good home.’ Right. If he’d said it, he must mean it. Put your money where your mouth is, Lord Craigenstone, she thought, and gave a fast, determined nod, as if confirming the decision she’d come to. The glance she gave Angus was almost defiant—stop me if you will, but I know this is right. She wiped her hands on the dish cloth, and then, before she could have second thoughts—how much was this ring worth?—she hauled the ring off her finger and handed it over.
‘This should be yours,’ she said. ‘It is yours. Put it on now.’
‘Are you...’ Delia stared, open-mouthed. Everyone was staring at her open-mouthed, Angus included. ‘Are you crazy? You can’t. It’s yours.’
‘It’s mine to give,’ Holly retorted. ‘It’s the Craigenstone Bridal ring and, as far as I can see, you’re still the Craigenstone bride. From where I’m looking, you haven’t had many of the perks of the job. You should keep this one. Angus,’ she said, ‘I’ve restored the Craigenstone ring to its rightful owner. You might need to square it with your mother.’
‘I can’t,’ Delia breathed as Angus stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
‘But I’m sure it’s the right thing to do,’ Holly went on. ‘Isn’t it, Angus?’ She tilted her chin again and met his gaze. Maybe she had no right to make such a gesture, but somehow, seeing Delia, thinking about that great gloomy castle, knowing even a little about what this woman had been through, the thought of wearing this ring herself was preposterous.
‘Oh, Mum, it’s gorgeous,’ Mary breathed.
‘Is it really yours?’ Ben demanded, and they were all looking at Delia, at a woman worn down by poverty and hard work, who should have been gazing at a ring and seeing how much it was worth in terms of feeding her family but instead was looking at the ring as if it were a gift without price.
‘No one treated me like a Craigenstone bride,’ she whispered. But then she gazed up at Angus. ‘Your father gave this to your mother,’ she said, and echoed Holly’s thoughts. ‘I have no right...’
Uh-oh, Holly thought. Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh. Was she crazy to have made such a gesture? Giving away something that held such history?
Was she out of her mind?
But Angus had said it was hers, and he’d said it in front of witnesses. And now the corners of Angus’s mouth were curving into a smile.
‘Nice one, bride,’ he said and grinned and put his load down on the table. Then he took Delia’s twisted, work-worn hands in both of his and held them.
‘You have every right,’ he said gently. ‘I didn’t see it until now, but of course Holly’s right. You’re my father’s widow. He treated you abominably. You’re ill. We’re giving your kids a Christmas to remember, so why not give you one, too? Take this ring, Delia, instead of the equivalent ring my father should have given you years ago.’
‘But Holly...’ The woman was torn. She looked from Holly to Angus and back again, distracted and distressed. ‘You gave it to Holly.’
‘It’s the Craigenstone ring,’ Angus said. ‘My mother should have returned it to Craigenstone after the divorce but...’
‘But I know why she didn’t,’ Delia retorted and the faintest of smiles started behind her eyes. ‘Oh, My Lord...’
‘Angus,’ he said sharply. ‘You, of all people, shouldn’t be using titles. Unless you want me to refer to you as the Dowager Lady Craigenstone.’
‘Is that what you are?’ Ben and Mary breathed as one.
‘Maybe,’ Delia said diffidently, and fiddled with the ring. With longing. ‘I was a fool to ever think it’d mean anything but I guess I’m still a fool. With this ring...’ She took a deep breath, twisted the ring so it settled in its rightful place and then looked at Holly. ‘Somehow, with this ring I feel like there was some value in our marriage. That it wasn’t a complete sham—that I wasn’t a total fool. I know that doesn’t make sense, but there it is. Thank you,’ she said. ‘But you...now you don’t have an engagement ring.’
‘Then I’ll need a replacement,’ Holly said happily, and picked up the lid of an empty sauce bottle. ‘This’ll do. Ben, your next job is to punch a hole in this and round off the edges. Then let Angus check it and he can slip it formally back on my finger. Job’s done. Now, doesn’t everyone have more jobs to do? Let’s get cooking!’
* * *
Any lingering doubts as to Holly’s cooking ability were laid to rest. She served tiny tacos with guacamole as a starter, then a chicken soup to die for, followed by a seafood banquet which had everyone in the family groaning because there was too much food. But they made a recovery. The irresistible; individual puddings oozed molten chocolate when a spoon broke the crust, with lashings of cream on top. Finally Holly produced coffee and tea and tiny cream puffs that made everyone think they could eat one more thing. Or two. Or even three.
Even Delia’s grumpy mother was smiling—smiling too at the ring her daughter was wearing.
‘He never gave her anything. Not a thing. And yet here you are...’
‘Here we shouldn’t be,’ Angus said, glancing at his watch. ‘You’re going into hospital in the morning, Delia.’
‘At eight. I’m not allowed to eat after midnight,’ Delia said and smiled. ‘I think I might manage.’
‘Do you have anyone to take you?’
‘We’ll get a taxi,’ Delia’s mum said.
‘I’ll organise a driver,’ Angus told her. He hesitated. ‘And are you happy for me to take the kids back to the castle?’
‘I wasn’t,’ Delia said. ‘But I am now.’
‘I’ll make sure they phone you every night,’ Angus promised. ‘And Holly and I will be in touch with the hospital all the time as well.’ Then he hesitated. ‘Holly...?’
And Holly knew what he was asking. She read it on his face, and she knew it was the right thing. Ben had said Delia would be in hospital for three days and would then be spending her convalescence with her mother. It’d be great if she wasn’t worried about her kids. The kids really wanted to come to the castle, but it meant a pretty bleak Christmas for Delia and her mother.
‘Of course,’ Holly said softly, and Angus gave her a smile that almost made her gasp. But before she could react, he’d turned back to Delia.
‘If you’re well enough, could I send a car to collect you and your mum for Christmas, too?’ he asked. ‘We could all care for you.’
‘Care,’ Delia gasped. ‘At Craigenstone?’
‘I know, the two words don’t seem to go together,’ Angus said. ‘But Holly’s made a difference.’
‘She surely has,’ Delia breathed. ‘Oh, My Lord...’
‘Angus,’ he said sharply.
* * *
He was lucky to have her? A woman who gave away a ring that was worth a fortune? Did she know how much it was worth? Could she have guessed?
Did she care?
To say he was blown away would be an understatement. He’d handed her the ring on impulse. It had been a crazy, generous gesture guaranteed to get her cooperation over Christmas. Any woman he’d ever known would have been stunned by such a gift. That Holly, who he knew was in financial extremis, could calmly give it away...
He wasn’t angry. How could he be angry—the ring had been hers to give—but to say he was overwhelmed by the gesture was still putting it mildly.
He’d never known such a woman.
* * *
They were quiet in the car on the way to the hotel. In truth, Holly didn’t know what to say, where to start. She’d given away the Craigenstone ring.
What was it worth? She couldn’t begin to imagine.
‘Can you...I don’t know...take it out of my wages?’ she said at last, feeling swamped. What had possessed her to do such a thing? It hadn’t been hers to give. She thought of the debt she already had in her name and she thought, wow, this would see her sink without trace. Cooking in outback mining camps was the best way to make money. That was where she’d be, she guessed, for the next hundred years.
‘Do you have any idea of what it’s worth?’ he asked quite casually, and then, as she said nothing—there seemed nothing to say—he told her.
‘We had it insured before I brought it with me,’ he said. ‘That’s base price of the components. At auction it’d go for more.’
She couldn’t speak. There were no words.
‘My mother will have kittens,’ he said.
Silence. More silence as he negotiated the heavy London traffic.
What was she supposed to say?
‘Um...you should never have given it to me,’ she said and he glanced across at her, his expression unreadable.
‘I didn’t think you’d value it so little.’
‘That I gave it away? It was precisely because I valued it so little. You should never have used it as a bribe. I would have worked for you anyway.’
Christmas at the Castle Page 9
