‘Cutting it fine, aren’t you? It’s September already.’ Charlie followed his comment with a chuckle. ‘But then that always was your style.’
‘Hey,’ Tristan protested, though he was laughing at the same time. ‘I met most of my deadlines.’ True, he’d pulled more than a few all-nighters to get the job done, but he’d always delivered when it mattered.
‘Well, I hope you’ve got someone who’ll keep you in line.’ When Tristan remained silent, Charlie gave him a speaking look. ‘I quite fancied the sound of your traditional Christmas in a castle. After the year we’ve had, Tim and I could do with a bit of luxury pampering, but maybe we’ll wait until next year …’
‘You don’t think I can pull it off.’ Tristan couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice.
Leaning forward, Charlie patted the back of his hand in a purely paternal gesture. ‘I’m sure you can pull it off, but perhaps it’s time for you to do more than that. Christmas is a special time for a lot of people. Last-minute scrambles to get things done shouldn’t be a part of that.’ Sitting back, he finished the wine in his glass. ‘Look, Tristan, you know I adore you – both Tim and I would cut off our right arms if we thought for a moment we could lure you back into the fold – but you’ve never been one to sweat the small stuff. When you are part of a team, you’re unstoppable, and we gave you the structure you needed to succeed. But even you have to admit you’re not always on top of all the details.’
Tristan opened his mouth to argue then recalled the unread emails in his inbox. He was very good at focusing on the stuff that interested him, the rest of it … ‘So, what do you suggest?’
‘Get yourself a decent assistant, someone to compliment your enthusiasm with a dash of ruthless practicality.’ Charlie offered him a kindly smile. ‘Don’t look so worried, I’m sure it will be a great success, but this is the first time you’ve struck out on your own and sometimes it takes a friend to point out our potential weaknesses.’
A friend. Yes, that’s what Charlie was, and a mentor too. ‘Thank you. And if you’re serious about you and Tim coming up for Christmas, I’ll be happy to do you a special deal.’
Charlie waved him off, but Tristan could see it had pleased him that Tristan was willing to not only listen to his advice, but take it in the spirit in which it was meant. ‘Nonsense. Mates rates are the death of far too many ventures. We’ll be happy to pay full price. Do we get a proper four-poster bed?’
‘We’ve still got a couple of old horsehair mattresses if you want that authentic experience. Or I could throw some rushes down in front of the fireplace in the great hall and you can bed down with the dogs for warmth.’ The image of Charlie, a walking Savile Row catalogue, being descended upon by the castle’s collection of unruly hounds brought a wicked grin to Tristan’s face. A mixed bag, most from local shelters or given up by people who had taken on more than they could handle, the castle pack were a sweet, harmless bunch but could be a little overwhelming to someone not used to them. ‘I did tell you about the dogs?’
‘Stop trying to put me off, it won’t work. Tim told me the other day I’m getting a bit paunchy.’ Charlie touched a hand to the slight roundness of his stomach well disguised by the impeccable cut of his jacket. ‘I can already picture myself striding around the Derbyshire countryside with a whippet at my heels.’ He frowned, thoughtfully. ‘That’s what you North-country types have isn’t it?’
‘Either that or a ferret stuffed down our trousers, yes,’ Tristan responded with a wry grin. ‘If you want to walk the dogs every day, Arthur will probably love you forever.’ He paused to signal to the waiter that they were ready for coffee. ‘Seriously though, the castle is set right on the edge of the dales so there’s no shortage of walking to be done – weather permitting, of course. And the estate has its own woods and plenty of parkland. There’s also stables if you ride …’
Charlie pulled a face. ‘I can’t see myself on the back of a horse, but the idea of getting out of town and away from the endless round of parties is very appealing. We’ll have to talk Tim around to the idea, but you can do that later when you join us in the pub for drinks.’
Damn, now how was he going to duck out of it without causing offence? ‘I’m not sure if I’ll have time, what with seeing Iggy and Will this afternoon.’ Probably best not to mention he was staying in their spare room during his visit, or that he wasn’t going back home until the day after tomorrow.
‘Nonsense. You have to come. Now you’re leaving us in the lurch, it’s the least you can do.’ It was said with a smile, but there was no getting around Charlie’s disappointment at his continued attempts to evade the celebration.
‘The party is for Jess, I don’t want to crash in at the last minute.’ Tristan tried one last time to get out of it.
‘Rubbish. She won’t mind, she’ll probably be relieved. You know how she is when there’s too much fuss. Hold on a minute.’ Before Tristan could say anything, Charlie whipped out his phone and made a call. ‘Jessica? Charlie, here. What? Yes, everything is fine with the Centrifuge account, and besides, it’s not your problem anymore, is it?’
Tristan listened as Charlie laughed. ‘Okay, Little Miss Conscientious, in three and a half hours it won’t be your problem anymore. Look, I’m with Tristan, and he’s decided to quit on me as well. I told him he should come for drinks tonight, but he’s being stubborn. Have a word, will you?’ With that he thrust his phone across the table, leaving Tristan no choice but to pick it up.
‘Hi, Jess.’
‘Hello, stranger.’ The phone emphasised the natural huskiness of her voice, and he could instantly picture her, long dark hair wrapped up in one of those practical knots his fingers always itched to undo, a little crease of concentration furrowing her brow as her hands flew across her keyboard. ‘Causing trouble, as usual?’
He laughed. ‘You know me too well.’ But not half as well as he might wish. ‘I’m staying in Derbyshire for the foreseeable future, and Charlie has decided he’s never going to forgive me.’
‘I’m not,’ Charlie bellowed loud enough to be heard. ‘And the same goes for you too, Jessica. Pair of traitors.’
‘Here we go again,’ Jess muttered, giving Tristan the impression Charlie had put a lot more pressure on her about leaving than he had received. It didn’t do much for his ego, but it would be churlish to feel any resentment. Her tone brightened. ‘Well at least if you’re leaving, too, that takes some of the heat off me.’
‘Cheers,’ Tristan said, wryly. ‘Thanks a bunch. Listen, Charlie wants me to come along to your leaving drinks tonight, but I don’t want to crash your party.’
‘Oh God, crash it, please crash it!’ she begged. ‘I told them I didn’t want to do anything, but you know what they’re like.’
‘Any excuse for a party.’ It was the company’s unofficial motto, and, after all, the way they made most of their business.
‘Exactly! Please, say you’ll come.’ She was quiet for a long moment. ‘It’d be nice to see you again.’
Well, hell, how on earth was he going to refuse now? ‘It’ll be nice to see you too.’
What was he going to wear tonight? He hadn’t packed much, having only planned to be away for a couple of days. He’d worn a suit for lunch with Charlie, but that would be a bit over the top for the pub given he wasn’t coming from the office. They were only going to the pub, surely a shirt and jeans would suffice? And why was he bothered about it anyway?
‘Hello? Earth to Tristan.’ Iggy snapped her fingers a bare inch from his nose, making Tristan flinch back in surprise.
‘Hey, stop that.’ He batted her hand away.
‘Well, if you’d stop daydreaming for five minutes, I wouldn’t have to.’ His sister slouched back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. ‘It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do other than give up our time to help you out.’
Tristan didn’t know what the hell had got into her, but Iggy had been in a foul mood from the moment he’d retu
rned to the apartment she shared with Will. They’d gathered around the big island in the kitchen that doubled as a table to discuss how to transform the castle grounds into something spectacular, but she’d done nothing but snipe and snap at him since they’d sat down.’
Will leaned over from his seat to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. ‘Leave your poor brother alone, he’s not going to ruin your garden.’
Iggy scowled at Will, but there was no mistaking the way her body language softened when he tucked his hand under her hair to stroke a light caress. ‘He can’t even pay attention long enough to listen to what we have to say about it, how can I trust him?’
Now he understood what was at the heart of her mood, Tristan had nothing but sympathy for his sister’s position. She loved Bluebell Castle – probably more than he and Arthur did combined – and she’d surprised them all by her decision to move away. It was clear to anyone she adored Will, and he her, and his horticultural business was based in London so the move made sense. They were working to diversify the brand, to leave the refurbishment projects which had been the bread and butter of the business in the hands of their experienced installation team so Will and Iggy could focus on their new passion for bringing gardening to schools and deprived inner city areas, and Tristan understood how important it was for his sister to strive to build a life away from their childhood home. Not because she didn’t love it there, but because she’d been the de facto mistress of the castle for several years and she was determined to surrender that role to Lucie. But the gardens were her baby, and Tristan needed her to know that he understood that, that he would honour all the hard work she had put into them and preserve her legacy.
Pulling his chair close on her other side, he slung an affectionate arm around her waist. ‘I won’t screw this up, Iggle-Piggle, I swear.’
Though his use of her hated nickname earned him a punch in the arm, it was immediately followed by a swift, hard hug. ‘I know, it’s just …’
‘I know.’ Tristan gave her a squeeze before shuffling his chair back. ‘When it comes to the grounds, you’re still the boss. Consider me your on-site eyes and ears, but I won’t do anything that the three of us haven’t agreed in advance.’
‘And we’ll go up for as many weekends as we can spare. And a whole week at half-term,’ Will assured her.
‘That’s a lot of unnecessary miles,’ Iggy protested. ‘When I’m just being precious about it.’
‘Bollocks to that,’ Will retorted, before digging in his pocket with a sigh and dropping a pound coin into a jar on the table. ‘I can’t believe that meddling assistant of mine talked you into having a swear jar at home as well as in the office. A man should be able to eff and blind in the peace of his own bloody kitchen.’
Giving him an evil grin, Iggy tapped the side of the jar with her finger until he fished out a fifty-pence piece and flipped it in after the pound. ‘She showed me a brochure for that luxury spa she visited last month on the back of your dirty mouth,’ she said.
Will leaned forward to steal a kiss. ‘I thought you liked my dirty mouth.’
‘Okay, okay, time out.’ Tristan waved his arms to draw their attention away from each other. As happy as he was that his siblings had both found love, it was bad enough watching his brother moon after Lucie every day at home without being subjected to these two and their public displays of affection. ‘Can we get back to the matter at hand?’
Chapter 2
The door of the pub swung open and Jess cursed herself not only for her Pavlovian response to it, but the little dip of disappointment she felt when once again it wasn’t Tristan who walked through it. She checked her watch surreptitiously, giving a weak smile as a gale of laughter went around the table to some comment she’d missed.
‘Here, get this down your neck!’ A large glass of rosé was thrust in her face.
‘Thanks.’ Accepting the drink, she set it down untasted beside the half-full one she’d been nursing for a while. Apart from the odd bottle at the weekend when she was curled up in her pyjamas after the boys were asleep, she was grossly out of practice. From the ever-increasing volume of her friends and colleagues, they were having no such problem sticking with the pace.
‘Everything all right, Jess?’ Tim was watching her with a frown of concern, making her feel guilty. He and Charlie had put a lot of money behind the bar, she needed to buck up and a least make an effort to have a good time.
‘I’m fine, just not used to being away from the boys.’ Sitting up straighter, she reached for the fresh glass of wine and took a sip. It wasn’t bad at all for a house wine, though not as cold as she preferred it. ‘I could do with some ice.’ She cast a forlorn look towards the bar. Hemmed in as she was along the back row of a group of tables they’d shoved together, there was no chance of her getting out short of getting on her hands and knees and crawling underneath.
‘I’ll get you some.’ Tim rose at once. ‘I’ll order some food while I’m at it to soak up some of this booze.’
‘That’d be great.’ She shot him a grateful smile.
He was back in moments with a large tumbler full of ice which he placed on the table between them. ‘I hate warm wine,’ he said, fishing out a couple of cubes for himself after Jess had added what she wanted to her glass. Leaning across the table, he lowered his voice with a conspiratorial wink. ‘And it won’t do any harm to water it down a touch. I can’t keep pace these days.’
‘We should be at home with our pipes and slippers.’ She grinned and finally allowed herself to relax. This would be the last night out she was going to get for a long time, it would be stupid to waste it. Besides, she’d worked with the people gathered around her for the past seven years, and she would miss them. Her eyes flicked to the end of the table to where Michelle, the company receptionist, was holding court with a couple of the guys from accounts hanging on her every word. Well she’d miss most of them, she mentally amended.
Even if she could get away with sneaking out early, it wouldn’t be fair to Steve or the boys. This was their last weekend together before Steve moved out, and he’d planned a special night in. Knowing how much Elijah and Isaac were going to miss him, she’d told Steve to take the bedroom he’d surrendered to her when they’d finally admitted things were over between them.
They’d been as honest as it was possible to be with a five and a two year old, but little Isaac in particular had become very clingy and spent more nights curled up with one or other of them than he did in the bunk beds they’d put into Elijah’s room to allow Steve to move into the box room which had previously served as their youngest son’s bedroom. She had no doubt the three of them were already sprawled across the king-sized bed, watching cartoons and eating pizza. A pang of sadness struck deep in her middle as she thought about other Friday nights when she’d been a part of those messy, lazy gatherings. So many things their little family would never do together again. She shoved the threatening sadness away. No matter how awful they both felt about it, separating from Steve had been the right decision.
Taking a fortifying sip of her wine, she turned her attention back to Tim, catching a look of sympathy on his face which told her he knew what she’d been thinking about. She couldn’t deal with any kindness right now; it would only lead to tears. A distraction was needed. ‘Charlie was telling me yesterday that you guys are looking to book a late break, have you got anywhere in mind?’
Tim pulled a face. ‘I was hoping for somewhere in the sun, but after his lunch with Tristan earlier Charlie is obsessed with going up to Derbyshire for Christmas. Did you know he lives in a castle? A proper turrets and drawbridge castle.’ He reached for the phone resting next to his glass, fiddled with it for a few seconds and then handed it across to her. ‘I thought Charlie was joking until I googled it.’
Jess stared at the screen, unable to believe what she was seeing. She’d always known Tristan came from a background of privilege, but she’d assumed he was joking from the dismissive way he’d told her he’
d grown up in a castle. A big house – bigger certainly than the standard suburban three-bed semi she and Marcus had been raised in by their parents – but Tim was right. It had turrets.
Fascinated, she began to scroll through the website, found a link and clicked on the blog. She recognised Tristan’s breezy writing style in the updates. He’d always been a whizz at producing press releases that didn’t sound like hard-sell marketing, even if that’s exactly what they were. The top story talked about plans for a traditional Christmas and how the family hoped to be able to share it with a few new friends. It sounded so inviting, like an intimate house party rather than a hotel break. She might be tempted herself had common sense not told her it would be way outside her price bracket. Although once Steve started his course and they were down to one income, a weekend at Butlins would be outside her price bracket. ‘It looks glorious,’ she said on a wistful sigh.
He shuddered. ‘It snows up there.’
She couldn’t help laughing. ‘It snows down here too, sometimes.’
‘Not like they get up there. Can you see me wading through the drifts? No, thank you.’
‘You can stay in, cosy by the fire. God, look at this!’ She passed the phone back to Tim, showing him a picture of a roaring fire in the biggest fireplace she’d ever seen. A gorgeous pair of brindle greyhounds were curled up before it, and a thick swag of greenery decorated the high mantel.
‘Mmm, now that is something I could get on board with,’ Tim mused. ‘A nice glass of port, a Kindle full of books.’ He leaned forward to call down the table to Charlie. ‘Derbyshire is a go!’
A hand landed on Tim’s shoulder and Jess looked up to meet a twinkly pair of brown eyes. Her stomach did that ridiculous little flip thing it did every time she saw Tristan. Even when she and Steve had been happy, had been in love and looking forward to growing old together, she’d always had this visceral reaction to Tristan. ‘Now that’s music to my ears,’ Tristan was saying as he eased himself into a chair someone had vacated for him. ‘I thought I was going to have to give you the hard sell.’
Starlight Over Bluebell Castle Page 3
