The butler turned to him next, and Will decided against ordering anything else. ‘I’ll help myself to something from the fruit bowl.’
‘Very good, Mr Talbot.’ Maxwell swept his plate away and continued to Morgana who was seated on Will’s right.
Planning to return their conversation to before Igraine had brushed him off, Will turned back to her only to find her deep in a discussion with Constance about the plans for the interactive children’s area in the garden. He bided his time, but there was no let up in their chatter, even after the family decamped from the table to the family room. A suspicious man might have thought Igraine was deliberately avoiding him, especially when she abruptly decided to turn in at the same time as her aunt, who was the first to excuse herself for the evening. A flurry of activity followed, with Constance deciding she would also go up to bed, and both Lancelot and Lucie jumping up to assist her.
With so many people milling around, Will had to settle for a quick peck on the lips, not the long, lazy seductive kisses he’d been hoping to lure Igraine into. Dissatisfied and disgruntled, he took himself off to his own bed. Igraine was keeping secrets from him, and somehow he knew they all tied into whatever had upset her so much the other week.
Chapter 14
Iggy hadn’t known it was possible for someone to say so much with silence, but Will was a master at it. She’d been waiting since her inadvertent slip over dinner for him to ask her what she’d meant, but whenever they were together over the following week, he kept their conversation purely to work matters. When he wasn’t talking to her about the groundworkers who’d started digging out the terracing layers for the water gardens, he was luring her into quiet places so he could kiss and caress her until she didn’t know up from down and all she wanted to do was grab him by the hand and drag him upstairs to bed. Hers or his, it didn’t matter as long as they could lock the door and she could fall into his arms and satiate the desire which had her insides knotted up tight.
She never quite took that step though. Either something interrupted them, or her own doubts got in the way. She couldn’t put her finger on what exactly it was that was stopping her. Will was attentive and funny, and the rest of the family seemed to have absorbed him into their whole in the same way they had with Lucie and then Constance. Whatever the topic at dinner, his opinion was sought, his answers given as much consideration as everyone else’s. It pleased and frightened her in equal measure because he fit almost too well. What she’d intended to be a bit of fun-a lovely distraction, a sexy itch to be scratched over the summer-was rapidly turning into something more serious, at least in her mind.
Will remained as opaque as ever. Oh, she knew he desired her, and he seemed to enjoy the quiet moments when they relaxed together curled up on one of the sofas as much as he did the frantic ones when he cornered her alone and laid siege to her mouth with his own. But she was still never quite sure what he was thinking, especially when he just sat there watching her.
There was an expectation in those silent moments, a quiet push that said he was waiting for her to confide in him, a sense of disappointment when she didn’t. But she wasn’t ready to talk to anybody about her plans for the future, not until she had something in place. If she told him she was planning to leave, he might think she was intending to follow him back to London. God, what if he wanted her to? Or, even worse, what if he didn’t want her to, but somehow felt obliged to extend the invitation? She didn’t know yet if they had any kind of a future together, and she wasn’t willing to stumble accidently into something neither of them might be ready for. What little she’d seen of his life in the capital was world’s away from the peace and tranquillity of Derbyshire. Would he slip back into that whirlwind of parties and gossip columns, and would he expect her to join him if he did? She couldn’t imagine anything worse than being under constant scrutiny.
Regardless of all those doubts, she still needed to be ready to move on when the time came. In amongst all the other things filling up her plate, she’d begun to surreptitiously look around at what openings might be available to her. She had her degree from the Ag University, and a wealth of experience but as she’d only ever worked at the castle she’d never had the need to draw up a CV. The examples she’d downloaded from the internet had made her skin crawl with their faux-boastfulness and she’d filed them away in a folder on her laptop to look at on a later date. Right now, she had other things on her mind.
Turning to check the back of her dress in the mirror, Iggy straightened the belt of the jade-green cotton shirtdress and gave her reflection a nod of satisfaction in the mirror. Though none of them really had the time to spare, Morgana’s planned afternoon tea to celebrate Arthur and Lucie’s engagement was due to start in the next few minutes. Iggy knew better than to be late. Slipping her feet into a pair of flat black pumps, she hurried from her bedroom and around the corner towards the main staircase. The door to one of the empty rooms shot open as she passed it, and a familiar hand shackled her wrist with an insistent tug.
Seconds later, her back was to the inside of the closed bedroom door and Will was bearing down on her with a smile that promised the very best kind of trouble. ‘Don’t wrinkle me,’ she warned him, holding her hands up in protest.
Pressing his weight into her outstretched palms, Will leaned across the gap between them. ‘I promise not to mess up anything more than your lipstick,’ he murmured against her mouth before proceeding to do just that.
Breathless and lust-addled, Iggy’s hands softened against his chest. Heedless of her dress, she yearned to feel him against her and was just curling her arms around his neck to urge him closer when a carriage clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour in three metallic rings. ‘You’re going to make me late.’
Stepping back, Will perused her with a satisfied grin. ‘Not a hair out of place, not a crease to be seen, just like I promised.’
‘You’re a menace,’ Iggy said, reaching for the handle of the bedroom door.
His big hand braced on the wood above her, his voice silky dark against her ear as he whispered. ‘When are you going to come to my bed, Igraine?’
Now. She had to bite down on her lip to prevent the word from escaping. ‘Soon,’ she managed, her voice husky with the need he stirred up inside every time his big body crowded close like this.
He trailed one finger down her spine, sending a helpless shiver through her, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning back against him. ‘I’ll make it good for you, so good you won’t remember being with anyone other than me.’
He sounded so sure of himself, so deliciously, infuriatingly arrogant that it irritated her just enough for her to find the will to wrench open the door. ‘Don’t let your mouth make promises your body won’t be able to deliver, Talbot.’ And with that she stalked from the room, his warm laughter following her down the corridor and just a hint of a wobble still in her knees.
Two minutes later, she entered the yellow drawing room where her aunt held court as she had for all the years Iggy could remember. Morgana continued her conversation with Constance who was seated at her left, though she raised an eyebrow at Iggy to let her know her tardiness had been noted.
Lucie leaned close as Iggy slipped into the chair next to her. ‘Everything all right? You look a little bit flushed.’
‘I ran into a spot of trouble on the way from my room,’ Iggy muttered, settling her crisp white napkin over her lap.
‘Trouble in a tall muscular package, I’m betting,’ Lucie whispered back with a knowing grin.
Their eyes met. ‘He’s driving me crazy,’ Iggy confessed softly.
Lucie’s brows drew together. ‘There’s not a problem between you two, is there?’
Pulling a face to indicate her indecision, Iggy sighed. ‘He’s just a lot to handle sometimes.’
‘Lucky you,’ Lucie deadpanned from the side of her mouth before reaching for the glass of champagne in front of her. ‘I’d say that calls for a toast.’
Smothering a l
augh, Iggy reached for her own glass and clinked it against Lucie’s before taking a sip. The crisp, dry wine fizzed over her palate and she gave an appreciative sigh. ‘You’re spoiling us with the good stuff, Aunt Morgana.’
‘Well, we have such a lot to celebrate, it only seemed fitting.’ Reaching for her glass, Morgana raised it first towards to Lucie, and then Constance. ‘I know we’ve already celebrated with the others, but I wanted to personally welcome you both to the family. Bluebell Castle is a better place for having you both under its roof.’
‘What a lovely thing to say, Morgana. Thank you so much for opening your home to us.’ Constance smiled across the table towards her daughter. ‘If you’d told me at the start of this year how much things would change for us, I wouldn’t have dared believe it possible.’
‘Welcome to you both,’ Iggy echoed, forcing the rather large lump which had formed in her throat back down. ‘It’s nice to have the gender balance tip a bit more in our favour.’
Mrs W came in carrying two large cake stands; one filled with finely cut finger sandwiches, the other laden with bite-sized squares of cake and colourful macarons. ‘If I can get you anything else, just ring,’ she said, before accepting Morgana’s nod of dismissal.
They tucked in, the conversation turning to the wedding, the way it seemed to every time they sat down lately. Not that Iggy minded one bit. Lucie seemed delighted at the prospect of marrying Arthur, and surprisingly relaxed about the whole thing. ‘Mum and I are going dress shopping next weekend,’ she said to Iggy whilst topping up both their glasses from the champagne bottle. ‘You should come with us.’
It was a very touching gesture, but Iggy wouldn’t dream of intruding on such a special mother and daughter moment. Shoving away a pang at the unlikelihood she’d ever share a similar day with her on mother, she gave Lucie a smile of thanks. ‘You’ll want it to be just the two of you, surely? You can take lots of pictures and show me afterwards.’
‘Well, I suppose we could,’ Lucie drawled out the last word. ‘But I’m sure you’d rather try on bridesmaid dresses for yourself rather than leaving it to me to choose for you. What if I subjected you to Bo Peep ruffles?’
‘Bridesmaid?’ It hadn’t occurred to her for a moment that Lucie would want her to fill that role. ‘You never mentioned it before.’
‘I was waiting for the right moment.’ Lucie reached for her hand. ‘Arthur’s going to have Tristan stand up with him, and I can’t think of anyone I’d want by my side more than you.’
That blasted lump was back in her throat again, and Iggy found herself blinking back tears. ‘I’d love to do it, thank you.’ She squeezed Lucie’s hand back, feeling in that moment like she was really gaining a sister.
Keeping hold of her hand, Lucie glanced across the table to her mum. ‘And will you give me away?’
Constance reached beneath the table for her napkin, raised it and dabbed at a tear on her cheek. ‘Oh, darling, that’s a lovely idea, but you might want someone a bit less emotional than me to lean on during your big moment. Every time I even picture you in a wedding dress, I start weeping.’
‘Perhaps you could ask Lancelot to do it for you. I’m sure he’d be delighted, and then your mother and I can hang on to each other in the family pew.’ Aunt Morgana was looking more than a little dewy eyed, which was very unusual for a woman who prided herself on her composure. She fluttered a hand in front of her face. ‘Such nonsense! I’m blaming the champagne.’
The four of them were still laughing when the drawing room door opened to admit a very pale-looking Mrs W. ‘Umm, excuse me for interrupting, but there’s a visitor.’
Before they could enquire who, the door swung fully open to admit a swirl of Chanel No. 5 perfume and a slender blonde woman clad in a neat cream trouser suit. The scent hit Iggy’s nose, bringing with it a flood of memories as her brain tried to process what her eyes were seeing.
‘Hardly a visitor, Mrs Walters,’ the blonde declared as she swept past the flustered housekeeper. Taking the empty chair beside Constance, she picked up a spare glass and held it out towards Lucie. ‘I hope I’m not too late to join the celebrations.’
‘Umm, no,’ Lucie replied, faintly, her good manners automatically kicking in to pour champagne into the glass. ‘The more the merrier, I guess. Her inquisitive gaze flicked from the new arrival to Iggy.
Shaking off her shock, Iggy drained her own glass in one swallow, then held it out to Lucie. ‘Fill it up, and yours too, you’re going to need it.’ She raised the crystal flute across the table, no warmth in her words as she spoke once more. ‘Constance, Lucie, may I present Helena Ludworth-Mills-Wexford-Jones. My mother.’
Helena’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a certain tightness around her eyes as she returned Iggy’s toast. ‘Always a pleasure to see you too, darling.’ Having taken a sip, she switched her attention to Lucie. ‘When I saw the announcement in the newspaper, I had to come and meet the lucky woman who’ll be marrying my darling Arthur. Though it was naughty of him not to tell me the good news himself.’
‘Perhaps if your children heard from you more than once or twice a year, you’d know what was going on in their lives.’ Morgana’s steely façade was well and truly back in place.
‘Perhaps if you’d not forced me out of my home and turned your family against me, we wouldn’t be in this situation,’ Helena snapped. She reached back to touch the elegant chignon tied at her nape, and then let out a brittle laugh that sent a warning shudder up Iggy’s spine. ‘But that’s all water under the bridge, and I’m here to concentrate on the future, not the past.’
Embarrassment and anger burned through Iggy, and it was only out of deference to Lucie and Constance that she held her tongue. The familiar complaint she’d heard throughout her childhood summed up her mother to a T-whatever happened, it was always someone else’s fault.
Her gaze strayed to the head of the table, where Morgana sat ramrod straight, disapproval radiating from every pore. She knew people found her aunt intimidating, though she’d never found her so as her stern nature had been tempered with an equal balance of deep affection she’d lavished on Iggy and her brothers. For the first time, she found herself contemplating whether a grain of truth ran through her mother’s accusation. It couldn’t have been easy for a young bride to enter a household where a woman as foreboding as Morgana acted as matriarch.
Hadn’t Iggy already decided she needed to withdraw from her own position at the castle to make room for Lucie? She adored her future sister-in-law and knew she was surrendering what had always been a temporary role to someone who was wholly suited to taking it on. Though it would break her heart to leave, she’d never, ever let Lucie sense even a hint of resentment at the change her presence had wrought over Iggy’s circumstances.
Morgana had never been anything other than scathing towards Helena as far as she could remember, though Iggy had always assumed it stemmed from her disapproval of Helena for abandoning her family. What if she’d felt that way towards Helena from the beginning, and worse, had made it clear how she felt? The unexpected pang of sympathy towards her mother sat uncomfortably. Why was she even questioning her aunt’s integrity? Digging her nails into her palm, Iggy did a slow mental count to five. Her mother had been in the room for mere moments and was already manipulating the emotions of everyone present.
‘Your remembrance of events differs greatly to mine, Helena.’ Iggy didn’t think she’d ever heard her aunt speak so coldly to anyone. ‘I have no desire to embarrass our guests any further with our dirty laundry, so I’ll leave it at that.’ Morgana took a delicate sip from her china teacup. ‘May we assume this is a flying visit?’
‘That’s up to Arthur.’ Helena paused to send a sweet smile across the table to Lucie. ‘And his enchanting bride-to-be, of course. Beaumont is over in America on an extended business trip, and I don’t have any particular plans for the summer so I thought I’d come and help with the wedding arrangements.’ The look of satisfied malice that fl
ashed in her mother’s eyes vanished so quickly, Iggy thought she might have imagined it, but she knew better.
Even if her mother had been dealt a bad hand when she was younger, she’d had the best part of twenty-five years to put things right between them. Recalling the last contact at New Year’s Eve when she’d phoned in tears because the allowance she’d been paid by Iggy’s father-even throughout her subsequent three marriages-had finally ceased according to the terms of his will, Iggy hardened her heart once more. Helena never did anything out of the goodness of her heart, and whatever had caused her to turn up at the castle like a proverbial bad penny, she’d bet the wedding had little, if anything, to do with it.
*
‘I’m not staying a night under the same roof as that wretched bloody woman!’
Iggy banged her head softly against the wall outside her uncle’s room as she listened to him yelling in fury. He’d stormed upstairs the moment he’d entered the family room before dinner to find Helena perched on one of the sofas like a queen holding court. From the banging and crashing of furniture, it sounded like he was actually packing his bags.
‘Lancelot, please. I know this is difficult but think of the children. If they want a chance to spend time with their mother, then surely you owe it to them to keep your feelings under wraps.’ Constance had followed Lancelot to his room, and Iggy had to give her credit for stepping into the middle of their family mess in an attempt to mediate.
Wondering if she should intervene, Iggy edged closer to the slight gap where the door had resisted his efforts to slam it closed. Tristan seemed as ambivalent as she was about their mother’s arrival, but kind-hearted Arthur had lit up at the news. He’d always held out hope when it came to Helena, no matter how many times she might have let them down in the past.
Before she could make up her mind, the decision was taken out of her hands by her uncle flinging open his bedroom door and stalking out with a large holdall gripped in one hand. ‘She’s a poisonous bitch, Connie,’ he flung over his shoulder. ‘I’ve spent the past twenty-odd years watching her tear the heart out of those children time and again. I won’t stand by and let her do it again.’ He stopped short at the sight of Iggy, scrubbing a weary hand through his silvering hair. ‘Don’t ask me to apologise, because I won’t.’
Sunshine Over Bluebell Castle Page 17
