Sunshine Over Bluebell Castle

by Sarah Bennett

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll come and give you a knock in the morning and take you down to breakfast. It’s a bit of a maze at first, but you’ll soon find your way around.’ Tristan came to halt before a dark wood door, indistinguishable from all the rest.

  ‘That’s assuming I stay.’ Will adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, conscious once more of the less than warm greeting Igraine had given him. From the way the brothers deferred to her, it was clear the gardens were her baby. If she didn’t want him here, he had little doubt he’d soon find himself out on his ear. She called you for a reason. ‘Your sister’s apparently changed her mind about wanting to employ me.’

  Tristan laughed. ‘Don’t worry about, Iggy. Her bark is worse than her bite.’ With one hand on the doorknob, Tristan met his gaze, his expression turning grave. ‘It takes a lot for her to let her guard down and ask for help. Unless you’re a hundred per cent serious about seeing this through to the end, maybe it’d be better if you did go home tomorrow.’

  Will opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. He’d rushed up here on little more than a whim, after all. Although Anna and Nick had assured him they could keep things running smoothly, had he actually given them much choice? ‘I’ll sleep on it.’

  ‘I think that’d be a good idea.’ Tristan brightened, giving Will the impression that nothing kept him down for very long. ‘Well, this is you.’ He pushed open the door and stepped back.

  ‘Wow.’ There was literally nothing else that Will could think of to say as he drank in the opulent décor of his room. The floor was covered in a carpet so thick his foot sank into the pile. A shade of midnight green, it matched the colour of the ivy climbing over the creamy wallpaper lining the walls. In amongst the pattern of twining vines perched images of exotic birds of paradise, their sweeping jewel-toned tails and bright button eyes so vivid he wondered for a moment if he was looking at a painting. A huge bed frame dominated the centre of the room, swagged with thick velvet curtains a few shades lighter than the carpet. Two large wardrobes bookended the bed; a dressing table and matching chest of drawers in the same burnished wood sat to the right of the room, and a pair of bottle-green leather armchairs faced each other beneath a set of leaded-glass windows.

  ‘Not bad, eh?’ Tristan crossed the room and opened a concealed door. ‘There’s an adjoining room here which you can use as an office.’ Leaving the door ajar he gestured beyond the left-hand wardrobe. ‘And there’s a private bathroom through there.’ He turned in a quick circle as though giving everything the once over. ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it. Shall we say eight-thirty for breakfast?’ Still a little dumbstruck, Will couldn’t do much more than nod.

  As the door closed behind him, Will sank down into one of the armchairs. The crisscross pattern in the leather beneath him spoke of its age, and like everything else around him, he supposed it to be an antique. So different from the sleek, cold lines of his modernist apartment. He let his eyes drift over to the large window beside him, the dark glass reflecting his own image back to him. ‘One of these things is not like the others,’ he murmured to himself, recalling an old song he’d heard on a kid’s programme. If he was going to stay, he had a choice to make-trying to blend in had never really worked for him, but was he brave enough to try and leave his mark on somewhere that breathed history from every stick and stone?

  Chapter 6

  Pride could be a terrible thing, Iggy mused to herself as she stared at her gritty-eyed reflection in the bathroom mirror. A fitful night spent conjuring a hundred different ways she could’ve responded to Will’s surprise arrival, interspersed with the most embarrassing dreams she’d ever experienced, was making it difficult for her to muster even a pinch of enthusiasm for the day to come.

  There was no way around it, she was going to have to find a way to apologise to him for her reaction the previous evening. Or, she could admit to herself her in the privacy of her room, for her overreaction. She could blame it on lots of things, but mostly it had been her bruised pride speaking.

  She’d long been an admirer of Will’s work, and to have him laugh and then dismiss her had struck the sorest of sore spots. The rational part of her said it was foolish to hold a grudge over a response she’d likely have received from almost any other expert in his position. But the tiny part of her which had been formed and honed before Iggy even understood such a thing as rationality existed had taken the inadvertent hurt straight to heart.

  Telling herself to embrace her inner Elsa and just ‘Let It Go’, Iggy dragged the silver-handled hairbrush through her thick curls. Part of a set gifted to her by her great-aunt, Morgana, the brush was akin to a medieval torture device. It tamed the natural wildness of her hair better than the dozens of bottles and tubs of littering the back of the cupboard beneath her sink, so she always returned to it.

  The bristles caught on a stubborn tangle, making her wince at the sharp shock of pain in her scalp. She needed to stop mooning over what had and hadn’t happened last night and focus on the here and now. Time to swallow down that stupid pride and accept Will’s change of mind for the gift it was. He was clearly excited about the project-why else would he have jumped in the car and driven over a hundred and fifty miles only hours after seeing those few photos she’d sent him?

  Ten minutes later, Iggy paused outside the dining room for another quick pep talk. Smile, say good morning, stick to polite enquiries and maybe everyone will pretend you didn’t make an absolute fool of yourself. Fixing a bright smile, she swung open the door. ‘Good morn … oh,’ she said to the empty room. A quick glance at her watch confirmed it was past eight-thirty and that everyone else was late rather than her being early. Feeling disgruntled that she’d built herself up for no reason, she helped herself to a cup of tea from the sideboard, poured some cereal into a bowl and settled down to wait.

  She was halfway through her cornflakes when the swing door leading to the servant’s area opened to reveal Maxwell, the butler. Neat as ever in his dark pinstriped trousers matched with a crisp white shirt and a black waistcoat, he carried an armful of newspapers. ‘Ah, Miss Igraine, good morning to you.’

  ‘Good morning, Maxwell. Have you seen anybody else up and about?’

  Placing the papers down on the sideboard, Maxwell laid them out in a precise pattern, Arthur’s edition of The Times at the top of the fan, as always. ‘Miss Lucie has been and gone. She’s got a call with the restoration team at Witherby’s at nine and wanted to do some last-minute preparation. Sir Arthur is out with the dogs and I’m expecting him back in-’ he checked the plain gold watch on his wrist ‘-ten minutes. As for Master Tristan and-’

  ‘We’re here, we’re here. Sorry we’re late.’ Tristan entered the room with Will on his heels.

  Maxwell snapped into immediate action, ushering them both to the table and fetching coffee for both men. They tried to keep things low-key at breakfast with the family helping themselves as much as possible, but with a guest present they might as well ask the butler to dance a jig as not see to their comfort.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ Will said, accepting the napkin Maxwell shook out for him. ‘I got so mesmerised by the view from my window this morning, I lost track of time.’

  Tristan grinned at him after also accepting a napkin with a murmur of thanks. ‘No kidding.’ He glanced over at Iggy, eyes dancing with bright amusement. ‘When I stuck my head around his door he was sketching away, completely oblivious to everything-including the fact he was still only half-dressed.’

  ‘Could’ve been worse, at least I had my pants on.’ Will’s rich, deep laugh did something funny to Iggy’s insides, as did the unexpected mental image of him clad only in his underwear. Nope! She was not going there. Not today, not any day. Forcing the image from her mind, Iggy stared down at the soggy remains of her breakfast until the fluttering in her stomach subsided enough for her to spoon up a mouthful.

  Once Maxwell had departed with hot food orders for the men, she concentrated on her breakfast. Tristan and
Will seemed content to carry the conversation, and it would’ve been easy enough for her to let them chatter away. A raised eyebrow from her brother put paid to that notion. He’d never call her on it in public, but she could tell he wasn’t impressed with her behaviour. Their father had raised them to always be polite and welcoming towards their guests-even those who hadn’t been invited. Remembering her little pep talk, Iggy rested her spoon beside her bowl and pasted on a smile as she met Will’s gaze across the table.

  Breathtaking.

  She wasn’t sure if it was the right description to give a man, but it was the one that came to mind. Four feet of burnished mahogany table was not a wide enough barrier when facing a man as good-looking as Will Talbot. This close, she could see the curve of his black lashes, and could name any number of women who’d kill for a set like them-herself included, and she wasn’t one for fussing over much about her looks.

  The hint of stubble that had darkened his jaw the previous evening had been shaven clean, leaving nothing to conceal the deep scar stretching from near the corner of his right eye to bisect his cheekbone before curling to the corner of his mouth. It should’ve marred his beauty, but somehow emphasised it. When he raised a hand to skim it over the inch of dark hair coating his scalp, she became conscious she was staring. Fighting the heat of a blush, she reached for her tea as an excuse to break the eye contact. Swallowing down the cold mouthful, she repressed a shudder and told herself it was her deserved punishment for mooning over Will. She set her cup down with a firm click against its saucer, and forced herself to look up, though she focused on the bridge of his nose rather than the unsettling depths of his storm-grey eyes. ‘I hope you slept well.’

  ‘It took me a while to unwind, but once I got into bed, I slept like a baby.’ His eyes skated over her face as though taking in the dark circles beneath her eyes. ‘What about you?’

  Refusing to acknowledge the indecent images from one of her dreams about Will threatening to creep back into her mind, she widened her smile. ‘Oh, I slept fine, thanks.’

  The corner of his lips twitched, as though he knew he’d caught her in a blatant lie, but when he spoke it was only to say. ‘The photos you sent me don’t do the gardens justice.’

  She considered the location of the green room with its view over the rolling rear lawn towards the ivy-covered stable block and the woodland beyond. ‘There’s something special about the light here, makes the colours seem richer, more vivid.’ She lifted one shoulder. ‘Well, that’s what I think, anyway. Maybe I’m just biased.’

  ‘There’s lots of things that are special here.’

  Iggy glanced up at the surprising comment to meet a heated grey stare. Was he implying that she was one of those special things? She melted just a little at the unexpected compliment, before giving herself a shake. Will Talbot might be one of the most attractive men she had ever met, but he had the reputation and ego to go with it. Flirting would be like breathing to a man who had a different girl on his arm, and no doubt in his bed, every week. She didn’t judge him for choosing to live his life that way, but it wasn’t and never would be for her. Besides, the papers had been making a big thing recently about his relationship with a reality TV star-not that she made a habit of reading about him the gossip columns. Well, not much.

  Her response to him was natural; nothing more than her body chemistry reacting to a stimulus. It would be strange if she didn’t find him attractive, given her propensity for sexy, and entirely unsuitable men. Feeling better, and a little more settled, she stood. ‘I’m getting another cup of tea. Would you like some more coffee?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ His smile was as warm about the thought of coffee as it had been about everything else. He was just one of those men imbued with a natural charm.

  Knowing that didn’t stop her stomach from fluttering though. Attractive man plus nice smile equals physical reaction, that’s all it is. Taking a firm grip on that reminder, Iggy went to refresh their drinks.

  She’d just set her own tea and a silver coffee pot for Tristan and Will to share on the table when Arthur entered the room.

  ‘Morning all.’ Pausing to brush a quick kiss on Iggy’s temple, he eyed the pot with a gleam. ‘Is that coffee?’

  ‘Guests, first,’ she said, giving the hand he’d outstretched towards the pot a playful slap.

  His pout switched to a grin when she shooed him to his seat at the head of the table then returned to the sideboard to pour her brother a fresh cup from the large urn. When she set it down in front of him, Arthur reached for her hand. ‘I don’t care what they say about you, Iggle-Piggle, I think you’re great.’

  The teasing she could take as nothing more than the usual banter of an annoying brat of a brother. But she couldn’t believe he’d actually used that wretched bloody nickname in front of Will! Wishing her eyes could shoot lasers and set him on fire, Iggy mouthed ‘I’m going to kill you,’ while he grinned at her like he’d said something hilarious.

  Deciding revenge was better than murder, Iggy resumed her seat and took a considering mouthful of her tea. ‘I think we should have a movie night tonight,’ she said, keeping her voice light and conversational. ‘What do you say, Tristan?’

  Two against one had always been the favourite game between the three of them, the pairings ever-changing. Catching on at once, Tristan beamed. ‘I think that sounds like a splendid idea, sister of mine. What did you have in mind?’

  Iggy pursed her lips as though giving the matter much thought. ‘Oh, I don’t know, how about a musical? I bet Lucie loves musicals.’

  Tristan covered a snort of laughter with a cough. ‘I bet she does,’ he managed to choke out.

  ‘Iggy.’

  Ignoring the warning note in Arthur’s tone, she turned her attention to Will. ‘Do you have a favourite musical, Will?’

  ‘I find them all equally diverting.’ A hint of mischief glittered in his expression. ‘Do you have a favourite?’

  He might not know exactly what was going on, but he’d picked up the undercurrents and she wanted to grin in delight that he’d chosen to go with it. Keeping her face straight, she nodded. ‘Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat is a big hit in this family.’

  Tristan began to sing quietly. ‘It was red and yellow and green and brown and-’

  ‘I hate you,’ Arthur said, as both Iggy and Tristan giggled.

  ‘What’s the joke?’ Will asked as Iggy’s giggles subsided and she pressed her napkin to the corners of her eyes.

  Biting her lip, she cast a quick look at the glaring brother, before turning back to Will. ‘There was a brief period when Arthur was enamoured with the school choir.’

  ‘Enamoured with a member of the school choir, is what she means,’ Tristan butted in.

  ‘Genevieve had a very nice voice,’ Arthur muttered.

  ‘Must’ve been something to do with her well-developed chest,’ Iggy said, drily, making Tristan sputter over his coffee and start laughing again. She was about to pick up the story when Maxwell returned carrying three silver salvers on a large tray.

  ‘Everything all right there, Master Tristan?’ he asked as he set the first salver in front of Arthur and raised the lid with a flourish.

  Tristan coughed then nodded as the butler placed a second plate down in front of him. ‘We were just telling Will about Arthur’s starring role in Joseph.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Mrs Walters spent many hours sewing those coloured patches onto one of my old overall jackets.’ He turned to Arthur once more, features deadpan. ‘I believe you still have it in the back of your wardrobe, Sir Arthur.’

  Oh, that was a delicious titbit Iggy had never realised. Wanting to kiss the butler for dropping her brother well and truly in it, she clapped her hands together. ‘You can wear it tonight when we watch the production!’

  ‘What a splendid idea, Miss Igraine,’ Maxwell agreed, placing the final plate before Will then returning to Arthur’s side. ‘You’ll be delighted to know that I had all the late ba
ronet’s old home movies transferred onto DVD.’

  ‘You’re fired, Maxwell.’ Arthur scowled at the butler before breaking into a chuckle.

  ‘Very good, sir.’ Lips barely twitching whilst the rest of them howled with laughter, Maxwell swept up the empty tray and left the room.

  ‘The joy of siblings, eh, Will?’ Arthur said with a rueful smile as he tucked into his breakfast.

  ‘I wouldn’t know. My parents had the good sense to stop after me.’ Though he said it with a smile, there was a hint of wistfulness about it. It reminded her of the way Lucie, also an only child, sounded sometimes.

  ‘Lucky you. Imagine being stuck with these two from birth.’ Iggy took no offence at Tristan’s comment, knowing he adored being a part of their triumvirate as much as she did. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who’d caught that note in Will’s voice.

  ‘So, what’s the plan for today?’ Arthur asked her. ‘Are you going to give Will the guided tour?’

  Dark-grey eyes met hers and those stupid flutters were back again. ‘I’d really like that, if you have the time. I know the deadline is tight, but the sooner I can get to grips with what we’re facing, the better.’ Well, someone had certainly changed their tune. What we’re facing sounded a lot like he was serious about staying.

  ‘I’ll show you around the Lady’s garden first. As the most formal part of the garden it needs the most work. Other than getting a tree surgeon in to inspect the routes for the walks we have planned, the woods will take care of themselves.’

  Will nodded. ‘Sounds like a plan. Speaking of which, perhaps I can sit down later with those plans you had last night?’

  ‘If you like.’ As much as she wanted to accept his change of heart at face value, she was still wary of it. This was all too easy, so what was the catch? ‘We’ll also need to discuss your fee.’