The dress was a bit loose on her, but just a bit. She was skinnier than her daughter. Her daughter, Lady Shiley.
Lady Shiley. But all the servants referred to her as Maisy. And the husband. That Lord Shiley had answered the door. And he'd said he liked to be called Mark. Sandy would have thought his whole 'Call me Mark' line was bullpuckey if he hadn't answered his own door. And then he'd tried to talk to them in Croatian.
All the while, she and Lou had been playing their cards close to the vest, seeing what their daughter would do, what she would say. And what they could hold over her, if need be.
And then Daisy May had fallen apart and run away.
Sandy twisted her mouth. That was Daisy May. Always turning to jelly whenever the heat was on. You could never trust what she might say when strangers or cops showed up at the door. The most ridiculous things came out of that girl's mouth when she tried to lie. And hadn't that husband of hers noticed it right away?
But it seemed that no matter what happened or what kind of scene Daisy May caused, the party had to go on. Supposedly, the whole village was invited and kids had been shipped in to sing or some such.
Sandy turned around and around in front of the mirror. The dress was nice and not slutty. Daisy May was never one to be slutty.
The dark green velvet dipped into a sweetheart neckline and then the rest of the gown flowed down to give her a long, elegant look. Huh. Her Daisy May elegant.
“Sandy?”
Lou had come into the apartment. And what an apartment. Brits must really have some screwy idea of riches, like if something's old it must be good no matter how crappy it was. The Lord and Lady lived in the attic! In a four room apartment in the attic! Not too posh, that. And the place had dog hair everywhere. Sandy had no idea where the dog was now, but apparently, Daisy May had finally gotten the pet dog she'd always been begging for.
“Be right out.” She took one last look at herself, then she walked out of the bedroom and into the front room. Her husband was dressed in dark tuxedo pants with a white jacket and black bow tie. Damn if he didn't look like Bogart in Casablanca. “That belong to Mark's grandfather?”
“So they say. An old uniform, a wedding suit, and this were all packed away.”
“Well, you clean up pretty good.”
“You look nice, too.”
Pippa and Matt hovered, smiling cautiously. “The party's really big this year,” Matt explained. “The first with Lady Shiley. And we've got the kids from London. It was already so special this year, and now you're here. It's all very exciting.”
Sandy smiled. “For us, too,” she said. But her voice was dry and rote.
“Well,” Matt said. “Let's all go down.” But when they got close to the top of the stairs that led down to the grand hall where people milled as they arrived from the village, the Clays balked. “Do we have to go down here?” Sandy asked. “Parading in front of everyone?”
“Not at all,” Pippa assured them. “Let's go down the back stairs and you can enter the grand hall through the back passage.”
They backtracked and Matt led them down the back stairs, with Pippa bringing up the rear.
The four of them had just come down when Mark and Maisy stepped out of the mudroom off the east entrance.
“Here you go,” Maisy murmured, about to slip off Mark's jacket.
“No, no,” he said, getting beside her, putting his arm around her so she couldn't take it off.
She put her hand over his and looked up into his sweetly smiling face.
“Lord Shiley,” Matt said in way of greeting, realizing the pair hadn't seen them yet.
Mark and Maisy looked up and got still at the scene before them.
“Begging your pardon,” Matt said with a quick bow. “Much to do.” And he turned on his heel and fled to the kitchen.
Pippa stood her ground, though, not saying anything. As tense and deeply personal as the whole encounter seemed, she would be there if Lady Shiley needed her. But when Maisy smiled at the girl with the deepest gratitude in her eyes and gave the barest hint of a nod, Pippa took off down the hall in Matt's wake.
Mark and Maisy walked up to the Clays.
“Mom and Dad.” Maisy's voice was quiet but strong. “This is Mark, my husband. Mark Potter-Prebys. He's the Twelfth Baron Shiley of Drakenfall. Mark, this is my mom and dad, Sandy and Lou Clay.”
Mark stepped forward, his smile reaching all the way to his crinkling eyes. “You're here on a special night, and I'm so happy you could join us. Mr. Clay, my grandfather's suit looks excellent on you. I never knew him, but I've no doubt you cut as fine a figure as he ever did. And Mrs. Clay, that dress was made for you.”
Sandy's neck flushed and she swatted her hand at him “Oh, you.”
But Lou responded with a bit more elegance to his sentiment. “Well, uh, thank you, Lord Shiley.”
“No. Mark. Please. I'm Mark.”
“And call me Lou.”
“And I'm Sandy,” Mrs. Clay broke in, having found the use of more words as she assessed Mark. “Well, Daisy May has found herself a fine husband. And very nice too.”
“Her name's not Daisy May.” And Mark said this with a chord of steel in his voice.
Lou and Sandy visibly stiffened, but Maisy remained standing tall and quiet.
“She hasn't been Daisy May for a long time,” Mark continued. “I have nothing against 'Daisy May.' But it's not her name. Now, we could spend our time together, we could spend our lives, going over the past. Or we can just start from right here.”
Lou and Sandy's eyes got wide and they looked, really looked, at their daughter. Neither could think of anything to say as they stood there.
Finally Sandy swallowed. “Your dress,” she said, gesturing to Maisy's soaked and hay-strewn skirts. “Maisy, you've ruined your dress. And your party's getting underway.”
Maisy smiled with a glow that lit up her face. “Well, you've been in my closet. You know I have others I can wear. It'll be fine.”
“And your shoes …” Sandy's brow furrowed as she looked down at Maisy's fancy stilettos, clearly visible beneath the soaked skirts that were clinging to her now-filthy ankles. Sandy's mouth quirked up in confusion. “They look all chewed up.” She looked up from her assessment of Maisy's wrecked outfit. “I'm sorry we startled you like that. Sent you running off like that.”
Maisy caught her breath. Her parents weren't going to mock her cowardly behaviour? “Thanks. But I wasn't running from you. Not exactly. There are a lot of things I could have handled better since I got your card.”
“Well,” Lou said, looking down. “We, uh … probably shouldn't have sent it.” He looked up then, and around the hall, as if there were anyone back there but them. “It seems to me that you're handling everything just right.”
Maisy's brows shot up and her mouth dropped open.
Mark looked at Maisy and felt himself exhale. He leaned back and called down the hall. “Matt!”
Matt came scampering into the hallway in something like a half-second, as if he'd never been far away at all.
Mark smiled, wondering just how many of the Drakenfall staff lurked around the corner. “The guests have begun arriving?”
“About a quarter of an hour ago. Glynis is holding court, getting everyone excited for your big entrance with Lady Shiley down the grand staircase.”
“Right,” Mark said, feeling Maisy's hand tighten in his. Their Drakenfall family had their backs, all right. Lord and Lady Shiley had meant to be in the grand hall, front and centre, to greet even the very first guests. But Glynis and the crew had managed to cover their absence brilliantly, turning their delay into an event. “Well, Maisy and I are going to get cleaned up. Can you please take the Clays into the party? Mrs. Sandy Clay and Mr. Lou Clay, Maisy's parents. Find Mr. Kemp from the gazette if you can. He's fascinated with Americana, especially the American South. Introduce him to the Clays. I'm sure he'll love talking to them.”
“Right, sir.” He turned to the Clays
. “Shall we?”
Mark turned his attention to Maisy's parents. “Enjoy yourselves, please. Everyone is going to adore meeting you.”
“Thank you,” Sandy said, taking Lou's arm.
As the trio disappeared around the corner, Mark grabbed Maisy by the lapels of his tuxedo jacket and pulled her into a kiss that took her breath away.
“Oh, Mark,” she murmured, then kept kissing him.
“Come on,” he said, laughing softly between kisses. “We've got to get upstairs, take a quick shower, and get back down to our guests.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “But the shower doesn't have to be too quick.”
Mark took her hand and they sped up to their attic rooms.
Chapter 33: A Spectacular View
Jamie took one last look in the mirror.
Okay.
He looked good. Spiffy, even. But what did it matter? It wasn't the party or his trying to look like James Bond that was going to convince Lea to back the project. It was the kids, plain and simple. And the plans for the centre. Kafi would unveil the drawings and the model tonight. But it was the kids who had to convince Lea that she wasn't dealing with numbers on a spreadsheet.
But what if it all didn't work? She'd said no to the tyre factory, but she hadn't said yes to the job centre. Jamie could take her to court—and he would if he had to. And he would win. His right to the building was clear cut. Lea had already sold and profited so much from more than her share of the inheritance. But he didn't want to pry the project out of her fingers. He didn't want her to be that kind of person. Just like she didn't want him to be the kind of man who worked in a thankless job, seldom deciding to enjoy the frivolities of life. She wished he were a different person altogether and he wished she were different, too.
Jamie slumped into an arm chair. He could understand someone not wanting to be touched everyday by his kind of life. The world was teeming with people who worked hard so they wouldn't have to deal with poverty in any way. But why did Lea have to be so opposed to him and his life? And why the devil did he have to fall so hard for her on the day he'd met her seven years ago?
But if she tried to kill this project, perhaps that would cure him of his affection for her, once and forever.
Standing up and dusting off his perfect sleeves one final time, he left his room through the door to the hall and walked a few steps to the door to her room. He knocked and waited. And waited. And waited.
He was just thinking he should return to his own room and knock at the connecting door when he heard her voice behind him.
“Jamie.”
He turned. And God, he forgot straight away how to breathe. She wore a slinky gold gown and she was standing entirely too close to him. A league away might suffice when she looked like she did. “Lea,” he finally said, as if he'd just guessed the anagram on Countdown.
“I was down the hall, looking at The Christmas Tree Grove from the big window.”
Jamie lifted his brows, barely able to form a coherent thought in her presence. “Is it magnificent? This … view?”
“It's pretty. Very Christmasy. Charming.”
“Ah.”
“Want to see?”
“Mmm.”
Lea turned and started walking down the hall. “This way.”
She walked to the large glass window that went to the floor and looked right out at the stand of firs that Drakenfall had adorned with coloured lights.
Lea walked right up to the window and Jamie moved to stand next to her.
“There.” That was all she said.
Jamie didn't say anything. The scene was beautiful, but all he knew, all he really knew, was that he was so close to Lea. He could swear he could feel the soft warmth of her bare shoulders.
She turned to him. “Well? What do you think?” Her voice was soft. Almost a whisper.
Jamie swallowed. Then he stepped back. “Wonderful. Drakenfall is really amazing. At every turn. Everything about it.”
“I think so,” she agreed and started walking toward him as he backed away.
“That's … uh … a great dress. You look fantastic.”
“You're not so bad.”
“Thanks. Uh ...”
Ding.
Jamie was just crossing in front of the old fashioned lift when the car stopped on their floor.
The doors slid open and there stood Kafi, looking very different out of his usual uniform of a blue button down Oxford and tan cargo pants. In his dark suit and white shirt, with his dreds falling freely, Kafi Diop looked like a force to be reckoned with.
Jamie smiled, suddenly feeling awash with a brilliant confidence in the project.
“Going down?” Kafi Diop asked this with such decisiveness, as if there were nothing uncharacteristic at all about his stopping on their floor and not stepping off.
“Yes!” Jamie quickly agreed, all but leaping into the lift.
Lea shrugged. “All aboard.” And she slipped in as the doors closed.
As Lea stood in the lift with the two men, she felt decidedly odd. So much buzzing, distracting energy flying about.
And in the centre of it all she could feel only palpable relief. Could Jamie feel it sluicing off her in waves? Up there, in the hall by the window, she had suddenly wanted Jamie. Lea Sinclair had wanted Jamie Tovell as she'd never wanted him before. Yes, ever since that first day they'd met, she'd thought he was adorable. Fetching even. But just now? Up in the hall? She'd been running him to ground, driving him back to their rooms. To the impromptu Wisteria Room, because they would have come to its door first.
But they'd been interrupted by the lift bell.
Thank God for it, though. Right?
Right?
Lea took measured breaths to calm herself. She should be grateful that Kafi's unexpected appearance had interrupted their march toward sexual doom. Ding, and finally Lea had been snapped out of her spell.
And Jamie? What was he feeling? If anything, a tryst might grease the wheels of the transactions he wanted to progress between them. But no, Jamie Tovell did not think that way.
The lift finally set them down near the top of the staircase into the grand hall. Kafi rushed off toward the back stairs and without a word, and without touching, Lea and Jamie descended into the party.
Poinsettias and candles and pine boughs and snow globes … accents of the season had been subtly placed everywhere to create an effect of Christmas land, where life was always easy and bellies were always full and love was always happy.
“I think I'd like a drink,” Lea leaned in to say.
“Perfect!” Jamie agreed. “The bar is in the parlour. Get me a scotch, could you please? There are some old and even first editions of Christmas books set out in the library. I want to see if they have A Child's Christmas in Wales.”
And just like that, he melted into the throng, leaving Lea standing alone and beautiful in the middle of the hall.
“Allow me to introduce myself ...”
Lea turned around to face the voice filled with bonhomie and a certain charm. A tall man with dark blonde hair, a quirk to his lips … and a vicar's collar stood before her. A collar that seemed in odd counterpoint to a not unattractive face with a hint of fierce resolution to the bone structure.
“Peter Cade, town vicar.” He held out his hand and Lea shook it, returning just as firm a handshake as she got. “I understand you are on your way to fetch some drinks. Might I join you?” And he crooked his elbow.
Lea happily accepted his arm and she glided through the crowd with the man. A man who was, apparently, best friends with everyone in the village.
“You really do know your flock,” she said, feeling impressed at his warm and solicitous manner with everyone.
He shrugged. “With this lot, it's easy, don't you know.”
Lea laughed. “No, I don't know. Is it because it's such a small village?”
“No. They're all just so ... singular.”
“So you really do know each and every one.”
He nodded, casting a glance across the festive gathering. “Job wouldn't be any fun at all if I didn't.”
“And they all confide their racy secrets, I bet.”
He angled his head and considered. “I don't know about secrets being all that fascinating. What gets me the most are the truths right in front of us, the ones we don't realize. Now, when I see something like that, something right in front of someone, just so ripe for the taking if only they would take it, now that's an incredible feeling of … incandescence.”
They'd reached the sturdy oak bar and Lea felt her heart beating unaccountably fast.
“Scotch, seltzer, and …” Peter Cade turned to Lea. “What will the lovely lady have?”
“Prosecco, please.”
“Got it.” And the young man behind the bar worked quickly and with a smile.
“After all,” Peter said, “isn't that why we love Christmas so much? And why the whole season feels so magical? We're all enjoying friends and family, people who are always in our life. We're being kinder, softer, acting in ways we could be acting all year long. We're taking time to be and experience the best there is to have, right in our very own lives. We're indulging in what is right in front of us.”
Peter turned to the bar and picked up the drinks. “Thank you, Danny. You tell that exquisite mother of yours that her Yule log is so good I am going to go up a size in waistcoats.”
“Aw, Vicar. She'll be right pleased you like it.”
Peter handed Lea the glass of white wine. “Shall we find your friend and give him his scotch?”
“Jamie. Jamie Tovell. Yes. He said he'd be in the library. And I'm Lea Sinclair.”
“Hullo, Lea.”
“Hello.” And then her eyes lit up. “It's like those mince pies Jamie's always talking about,” she said.
“Yes?” he prompted with interest as they meandered their way to the library.
“They've got quite a reputation as a special Christmas treat. When really, we could make them any time ... if we wanted.”
A Drakenfall Christmas: A Novel Page 13
