She traced an approximate loop of the route through the woods that led walkers to the replica stone circle their ancestor Thomas had created in a large glade, and back towards the castle. ‘That’s route one.’ Swapping her pen for a different colour, she drew a line leading away from the loop towards the lake and back towards a point at the edge of the Lady’s garden. ‘This could be the second one.’ With a third pen she traced a meandering path around the formal gardens which connected to the lake walk, passed up to the castle and back down again. ‘This would be an easy stroll for anyone who didn’t fancy tromping through the woods, or if they want a more strenuous walk they can then pick up this one-’ she tapped the end of the pen to the second route ‘-and head down to the lake.’
Arthur angled the paper towards him. ‘I see what you’re doing. If we try and interconnect as many of them as possible, visitors can explore as much or as little of the grounds as they want to.’
A warm glow started in her belly. He really did get it. She tugged the sheet back and drew a bold line running from the far end of the formal gardens loop and out towards the dales. ‘For the hikers.’
Lancelot leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. ‘If I can make a suggestion?’ When she nodded, he continued. ‘Rather than having them tramp all over the place, we could easily mow in a path along the edge of the gallops, encourage them to cross the park land that way.’
‘That makes sense.’ She amended the proposed route. ‘Although we’re bound to get a few people who stray.’
‘Of course, but I think if you give them the option of a path to follow, most people will use it. Most British people, anyway. We love a bit of order, form a queue and all that.’
Iggy laughed. ‘Good point. People don’t have to stick to the routes, but if we mark them clearly, it should be quite straightforward. And perhaps we should consider whether we want to offer them maps.’ She looked to Arthur for guidance.
‘I’ll have to cost it out, make sure it’s built in when we decide on an admission fee.’ He glanced up at Lucie. ‘Can you highlight that as a job for me to do?’
‘It’s on the list, don’t worry,’ she assured him, tapping her pen on her notebook.
‘And, again, we don’t have to do all of this in one go.’ Tristan pointed out. ‘We can post large maps at starting points of each of the walks and come up with a less intrusive way to mark the routes along the way so we don’t spoil the views.’ Her brothers launched into a discussion over the pros and cons of costing in everything up front versus adding value at a later date.
After a few minutes of the two of them going back and forth Iggy held her hands up. ‘These are all great ideas, and I’m feeling so much more positive than I was yesterday, but we’re getting a bit bogged down in the details. The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of leaving parts of the gardens as they are. It will certainly make life easier for me.’
‘It’s a shame we can’t get one of those garden makeover shows in to do it for us,’ Lancelot chipped in.
‘How strong is that whisky and soda?’ Arthur cast a meaningful look at the amber contents of her uncle’s glass.
Tristan laughed. ‘I can’t see the BBC licence fee payers giving them the thumbs up for spending their hard-earned cash on an ancestral pile like ours.’
‘Well fine, not the BBC, but it’d be nice if you could find some way to get people to help you out.’ Lancelot sounded disgruntled.
‘It’s called money.’
Iggy coughed to cover a laugh at Tristan’s wry comment. ‘It’s a nice idea, but no one’s going to turn up and do the garden for free.’
‘Don’t be so sure about that.’ Lucie, who’d been quiet up to then, sat forward on her seat. ‘My mum loves gardening. One of the worst things about moving to our flat was her losing our lovely back garden.’
Her face clouded for a moment, and Iggy’s heart went out to her and poor Constance. Lucie and her mum had been left with nothing when her father had been arrested as a fraudster when Lucie was still a teenager. Constance had been to stay with them a few weeks previously, and Iggy had adored her almost on sight. Seeing her and Lucie together had been bittersweet, reminding Iggy of how much she’d missed out on thanks to the selfish actions of her own mother.
When Constance had taken an interest in the gardens, it had been a highlight of her visit for Iggy. ‘Phone her and tell her to come visit us again, I’m happy to exploit her for a bit of free labour.’ She was joking, of course, although Constance was welcome any time as far as Iggy was concerned.
‘But she wouldn’t see it as being exploited, she’d be over the moon,’ Lucie said, excitedly. ‘Imagine a little army of enthusiasts given the opportunity to play a part in restoring the gardens to their former glory.’
‘It could work,’ Tristan mused. ‘They get volunteers for all sorts of things-archaeological digs, people acting as guides for the National Trust around their properties, local projects to clear rubbish from canals and waterways. We could give them a few perks. We’d feed them, of course. Perhaps throw in a nice afternoon tea and a behind the scenes tour around the castle. We could call them The Friends of Ludworth Castle, or some such thing.’
Iggy looked around at her family. This was why she needed to stop and ask for help more often. It would be the perfect reason to leave some parts of the garden untouched, and offer an incentive for people to feel invested in the future of the castle. An unexpected lump formed in the back of her throat and she had to swallow around it before she could speak. ‘I love it.’
Before she could say any more, she heard a muffled thump followed by a cacophony of barking from the great hall. Arthur pushed to his feet with a groan. ‘I’d better go and see what that’s all about.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s about time for their evening walk.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Lucie looked to Iggy. ‘Unless you still need me?’
She shook her head. ‘No, you go ahead. Now we’ve got a way forward, I’m feeling much more positive. Tristan can help me decide which sections we can leave for later restoration projects.’
Down on hands and knees. Iggy and Tristan studied the large plan of the grounds. ‘So, I definitely need to focus on the Lady’s garden and reinstating the original central design.’ She circled the area in green.
‘What about the maze? It’ll be a good distraction for kids.’
She circled that too. ‘Yes. It needs reshaping and new gravel for the pathways, but is definitely doable.’ She paused. ‘I haven’t been inside it for years so probably best to assume the benches in the centre will need replacing.’
The door behind them opened again. Glancing back over her shoulder, Iggy saw Arthur pop his head around the door. ‘Umm … Iggy? You’ve got a visitor.’
Before she could scramble up, her brother pushed the door wide to reveal the tall man standing next to him. The biker jacket he was wearing registered first. A distinctive, vintage piece with two grey bands around the upper arms of the sleeves had been paired with a plain grey T-shirt, jeans and trainers, though she’d seen photos of it worn over everything from outlandish board shorts to formal eveningwear complete with black tie. Her brain refused to compute the information it was receiving as she finally shifted her gaze higher, past the five o’clock shadow scattered over a firm chin, the rakish scar cutting into his right cheek she’d always found fascinating, and up to a pair of steel-grey eyes.
Handsome as he was on page and screen, Will Talbot was a stunning presence in the flesh. Heat rushed to her face, as well as a few unmentionable places. The connection between her brain and her mouth finally kicked in. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
Chapter 5
As first impressions went, the sight of Iggy Ludworth’s bottom clad in skin-tight denim was right up there as far as Will was concerned. The tempting patch of pale skin above the waistband of those sinful jeans revealed where her top had ridden up made a damn fine second impression; the cascade of dark mahogany curls sp
illing down almost to meet it, a third. Before he’d even taken in the fine features of her heart-shaped face, he was more than half in love with her. In lust with her might be closer to the mark, he corrected, as he swung the backpack off his shoulder to hang conveniently in front of his body in what he hoped was a casual gesture. For a woman like this he might be willing to break his ‘work and play don’t mix’ rule. More than willing from the urgent signals the rest of his body was sending to his brain-ready and able, too. And, then she snapped at him in that glorious ice-maiden voice of hers, and Will knew he was a goner.
When the furrow between her brows deepened, he realised she was expecting him to respond. Didn’t the woman know what she’d done to him? ‘You asked for my help.’
She sat back on her haunches, making him want to sigh with regret at the loss of his view of her deliciously plump backside. ‘And if I recall our conversation from this morning, you told me in rather graphic terms that you weren’t available.’ It was wrong just how much that frosty disdain turned him on.
‘I shuffled a few things around,’ he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. He knew he was stoking her anger, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about that frozen façade of hers that made him want to smash through it and find the real woman he could sense behind the icy mask.
His team back in the office might have something to say about his dismissive attitude, too. Having raced back from the Cornwalls with his head full of those haunting images Iggy had emailed to him, they’d spent a gruelling two hours holding an emergency meeting to run through all their scheduled jobs for the summer.
Thankfully, they’d not only seen but understood his passion to abandon the roof terraces and back gardens of London for the chance to tackle something on the epic scale of Bluebell Castle. Even so, he’d needed to be convinced they had everything in hand before Will gave himself permission to follow the craving need the photos of the castle gardens had set itching beneath his skin.
A quick dash from his office to his flat to throw some essentials into a bag, and he’d been on the road. His traffic app had told him he could make it in four hours, but an accident at the Dartford crossing and some hellish roadworks on the A1 had stretched it to six. Plenty of time to debate with himself over the rashness of his actions, and more than once he’d been tempted to veer off onto a passing slip road and turn around.
As he took in the looks he was receiving-from Iggy’s barely contained fury to the amused grin from an older man sitting on one of a pair of enormous leather sofas-Will questioned once more the wisdom of acting on impulse. Showing up at this time of the evening was inexcusable, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d considered finding himself a hotel or B&B for the night and postponing his arrival until morning, but with every mile he’d drawn closer to the castle the doubts had compounded until he’d known in his gut that if he waited, he’d change his mind. The imposing stone wall guarding the castle had almost been the final straw, but then he’d found the entrance gate standing open as though in invitation and, well, here he was.
Iggy folded her arms across her chest, highlighting to him that she was as pleasing from the front as she was from the back. ‘You shouldn’t have bothered. We’ve managed to sort things out without your esteemed talents.’ She flicked a handful of that glorious hair over her shoulder, an act of dismissal if ever he’d seen one. ‘If only you’d called first, it would’ve saved you a wasted journey.’ So much ice, so much disdain in those words that another man might have withered before them.
Not Will, though.
He’d not forgotten that little exhalation she’d made over the phone, that combination of relief and self-doubt when she’d still had hope she might be able to hire him for her project. Tiny as it had been, it had been a chink in her armour none the less. Remembering it made him want to prod and push and dig until he won another glimpse of it. ‘Well, I’m here now, so it won’t do any harm to take a look, will it?’ He gestured towards the stack of plans behind her.
Shifting her weight, she moved as though to block his view of them. ‘Like I said, everything’s sorted now, thank you.’ He’d never heard anyone who could make thank you sound so much like eff you. God, she was marvellous.
Side-eyeing Iggy, the man sitting next to her butted in. ‘Bit of an exaggeration there, sis.’ Unfolding himself, he rose and offered his hand. ‘You must be Will. I’m Tristan Ludworth, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’
His informal, friendly manner told Will he had a least one ally present. Time to up the charm offensive and see if he could get the rest of them on side. ‘Cheers,’ he said as they shook hands. ‘You’ve got a hell of a place here.’
‘Not my place, as such.’ He turned to include the man who’d greeted Will in the enormous entrance hall. ‘Everything you see belongs to Arthur, here.’
‘Oh, yes, of course. Hi there, Arthur, sorry to burst in on you like this.’ As they shook hands, Will’s mind raced as he worked out the relationships between everyone. Tristan and Arthur were alike enough it was obvious they were brothers, and even if Tristan hadn’t referred to her as ‘sis’, Iggy had the same colouring and striking features.
The man on the sofa was an older version of the brothers-their father, perhaps, although if the castle belonged to Arthur, more likely an uncle. Tucking his free hand in his pocket, Will apologised once more. ‘I’m sorry to just rock up like this, but I was blown away by the photos of the gardens your sister sent, and I knew I had to see for myself.’
‘We’re getting used to unexpected visitors around here.’ Arthur curled his arm around the shoulders of the pretty redhead beside him, smiling down at her as though sharing a private joke.
‘At least I told you I was coming,’ she protested with a laugh. ‘It wasn’t my fault your internet was broken.’ Having accepted a quick kiss from Arthur, she turned to Will, eyes still sparkling in amusement. ‘I’m Lucie, by the way.’
With a flush of embarrassment, Will yanked his hand from his pocket and quickly shook hers. ‘Hi, I’m Will.’
Lucie bit her lip, casting a sly glance towards Iggy. ‘Yes, yes you are.’
‘Well, we were just going to take the dogs out, so I’ll track down Mrs W, our housekeeper, and get a room sorted out for you. You’re probably tired after your drive up so perhaps we can sit down after breakfast and talk things over?’ Arthur glanced towards his sister. ‘How does that sound?’
The look on her face was decidedly frosty. ‘Fine.’
Arthur raised a brow at his sister before turning back to Will with a smile. ‘I can see about some supper for you, as well, if you’re hungry?’
He shook his head, conscious once more of just how disruptive his arrival was to these people. ‘I’m fine, honestly, although if you could point me in the direction of the kettle, I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee.’ As soon as he said it, he wondered if people like this even knew where the kettle was. Arthur had already mentioned a housekeeper, and a place the size of this probably had an army of staff to fetch and carry. An image of Downton Abbeyesque servants scuttling about in neat black and white uniforms sprung to mind.
‘I’ll sort you a coffee,’ Tristan offered. ‘If you give me the keys to your car, I’ll get your bags taken up to your room as well.’
Perhaps he was too quick to judge. He hated people making assumptions about him, had been on the wrong end of enough stereotyping that he should try and avoid doing it himself. Apart from Iggy, they’d all been incredibly polite and charming so far. Retrieving them from his pocket, Will dropped his keys onto Tristan’s outstretched palm. ‘Thank you.’
‘And I’ll come out with you, Arthur. One of the mares took a knock to her leg earlier, I’d like to give it a final check before I turn in for the day.’ The older man placed an empty tumbler on a side table, then stood and approached Will. ‘I think we got lost in the introductions. I’m Lancelot. You’re that gardening chap Iggy was talking about at dinner, I gather?’
‘Lancelot?’ Will c
ouldn’t help repeating as they shook hands. His eyes strayed to the other two men in the room. ‘Arthur … Tristan …?’
‘Yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking,’ Lancelot said with an amiable grin. ‘Old Thomas, the ninth baronet, has a lot to answer for.’ His smile widened as he turned his attention to Lucie. ‘Although he brought you into our lives, my dear, so perhaps the silly names are worth it.’
Baronet? Wow, he really was hobbing with the nobs.
Lucie blushed, the glow of colour bringing a warmth to her pale, almost porcelain, skin. ‘Charmer.’
Clearly delighted, Lancelot bussed her cheek with an affectionate kiss.
‘You can cut that out.’ Arthur said, muscling his way between the two of them though it was clear from his tone that he was joking. All smiles, they moved towards the door.
Lucie paused on the threshold to look back at Will. ‘Welcome to Bluebell Castle, Mr Talbot. I’m so glad you changed your mind.’
Will felt his mouth twitch as the slightly odd group left the room. Lucie seemed amused at his arrival. If he could get her onside she might help him work out the lie of the land with the rest of the family.
Filing the knowledge away for later, he focused on the main sticking point in front of him. He moved to occupy the space Tristan had left, dropping to his knees beside Iggy. A blown-up photocopied map lay on top of the pile of documents. Not bothering to ask permission, he pulled it a few inches closer to study it. Looking past the various lines and coloured circles drawn on it, he tried to identify locations for the images she’d sent him.
‘Do you mind? Iggy made to move the drawing away from him, but he shifted one knee to trap a corner of the paper.
The Bluebell Castle Collection Page 29
