‘Well, Jimmy can keep his eye and all the rest of his bits firmly to himself, thank you very much,’ she said, archly.
‘Don’t tell me you’re still pining for that bloody gardener,’ Helena slurred a little as he leaned across from the opposite side of the table. Her enormous hat had been removed, and Iggy had last seen it being worn on the dancefloor by Tristan. Fixing her slightly unfocused gaze on Iggy, she pointed a red-tipped nail at her. ‘I told you at the time he was only after one thing. Find yourself some nice, filthy rich idiot and settle down, for goodness sake.’
Anger bubbling in her gut, Iggy pushed the wagging finger out of her face. ‘You’re the last person I’m going to take relationship advice from. Why don’t you do us all a favour and piss off back to your own filthy rich idiot and leave us in peace?’
‘Iggy, come on now, don’t spoil it when we’ve had such a nice day,’ Arthur pleaded, ever the bloody peacemaker.
‘I’m not spoiling anything, it’s her. It’s always her, but you’re too blind to see it. She doesn’t give a stuff about any of us, never has, never will, and I hope you finally see that before she ruins everything.’ Iggy clamped a hand over her mouth before she let her words truly run away with her. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of a knife and if she stepped the wrong way, she’d slice not only herself to ribbons, but Arthur too. ‘I’m sorry, this isn’t the time. I’d better go back to the dancefloor before I say anything else.’
She rose from her chair and was surprised when their mother stood up to face her. ‘You should be thanking me for what I did!’ Turning, she pointed from Arthur to Tristan who’d wandered over to join them, the ridiculous hat still perched on the back of his head. ‘You should all be thanking me.’
‘Christ, what’s this?’ Tristan said, grabbing a bottle of beer from the table and taking a swig. ‘You’ve had too much champagne, Mother, why don’t you go back to your room and have a lie-down?’
‘Don’t you think you can dismiss me! If it wasn’t for me, your future wouldn’t be looking so damn rosy.’ Helena’s face had grown red, her volume increasing to the point she was beginning to draw stares from people around them.
‘What the hell is she talking about?’ Tristan asked, then turned to her. ‘What are you trying to say, Mother?’
‘You know! If it hadn’t been for me talking to the papers, you’d still be scrabbling around trying to sell tickets for your grand opening.’ She rounded on Iggy, that red, shiny nail jabbing in her direction once more. ‘And you’d still be fooling yourself that Will wanted you for anything more than a bed-warmer. I showed you what kind of man he is, and saved the family fortunes in the process. So, yes, you should be thanking me!’ With a satisfied nod, she flopped down into her chair.
Knees giving out, Iggy found herself dropping down into her own seat. ‘I don’t bloody believe it.’ Will had been right all along. Someone in the family had betrayed them.
‘But why would you do such a thing?’ Arthur leaned across the table towards Helena. ‘Why would you sell your own daughter out like that?
Helena glanced away with a shrug. ‘I needed the money. Beaumont left me high and dry, and I was desperate. I kept waiting for you to do the right thing by me, especially once I found out about that damn painting you were keeping hidden from me, but you always were too stupid to catch the hint.’
He reared back, her cold words landing as harsh as a slap. ‘I thought you came here because you read about the engagement.’
‘And so I did. Like I told you, I assumed you’d bagged yourself an heiress to put the finances to rights, but instead you’d fallen for that little drip without a penny to her name. If she hadn’t let it slip on the first night about the Viggliorento, do you honestly think I would’ve stuck around all this time?’
‘Jesus Christ.’ Tristan sounded as shocked as she felt, and both he and Iggy knew how poisonous their mother could be. Poor Arthur, though …
Iggy turned to offer him comfort, but instead of the devastation she expected to see, his face was fixed in a firm expression of resolve. ‘Get out,’ he said to their mother, his voice deadly calm. ‘Stand up, turn around and walk out of here or I swear to God I will climb over this table and throw you out.’
‘But, Arthur-’
‘Now!’ He sounded so fierce Iggy found herself clamping a hand on his shoulder for fear he really would do as he’d just threatened.
‘Hell’s bells, I’m too old to rock and roll anymore,’ Lancelot said, as he strolled up with one arm around Constance’s waist, the other hooked around Lucie’s shoulder. ‘These two will put me into an early grave.’ Sensing the mood, his smile faded. ‘Everything all right here?’
‘Everything’s fine. Mother was just leaving,’ Arthur said in that same flat tone.
‘Well, about time. Here, let me give you a hand.’ Lancelot all but hauled Helena to her feet, hooked his arm through hers and had towed her halfway across the marquee before Helena had so much as a chance to squawk in protest.’
‘What was that all about?’ Lucie rounded the table to stand at Arthur’s side. ‘What’s going on?’
Her hand on his arm seemed to be all it took to shatter the icy façade, and Arthur raised his face to hers with a tired smile. ‘Nothing you need worry yourself about. Not now, not ever. Come on my beautiful bride, dance with me.’
Lucie cast a wary look at Iggy as Arthur led her away but didn’t protest. As soon as the pair of the reached the centre of the floor, the DJ switched the music to something slow and the rest of the dancers either settled into couples or drifted from the floor to retake their seats.
Iggy watched Arthur take Lucie’s hand and place a kiss on it before he draped it over his shoulder and pulled her close. They swayed together in time to the music, seeming oblivious to everyone else around them. ‘Do you think he’ll be okay?’ she asked Tristan as he claimed the empty seat beside her.
‘In time, he will. Lucie will see to that.’ He slung an arm across the back of her chair. ‘What a bloody mess.’
‘Yes.’
‘He wasn’t wrong.’
‘No.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’
It was on the tip of her tongue to say there wasn’t anything to do about it, but she stopped herself. ‘I need some air.’
Tristan didn’t protest as she left him sitting at the table and escaped out into the slightly cooler night air beyond the marquee. The fountains had been switched back on, the dancing curtains illuminated in brilliant shades of green, purple and red by the hidden coloured spotlights. Instead of turning away, Iggy strode towards them.
When had she become the kind of person who shied away from the hard things in life? When had she ever given up on anything she truly wanted? She’d chosen to go to the Agricultural University even though it had meant being separated from her brothers for the first time in their lives. She’d locked horns with their tenants and sweated night and day until she’d proven to them she was capable at overseeing the estate lands better than anyone with twice as much experience. She’d overseen all the hard work it had taken to restore the gardens to their former glory. However badly things had ended, if she hadn’t sought out Will’s assistance, they wouldn’t have this remarkable new part of the gardens, either.
Pride filled her as she pressed her toes into the dew-damp grass beneath her bare feet. This land was in her, blood and bone. It was her home, and all she’d ever thought she wanted or needed. But once she was dead and gone, the land would still be here, and other Ludworths would come and go and make their mark upon it before they too became dust upon the wind. She’d done what she needed to do to pay homage to her past, it was time to seize her future.
Determination burning in her veins, Iggy gathered the long skirts of her dress and started to run towards the steps. She was halfway up when a voice she’d feared never to hear again spoke her name.
‘Igraine.’
Halting, she stared up at the shadowed figu
re standing at the top of the steps. ‘What are you doing here?’
Hands in his pockets, Will stepped down onto the riser before her. A beam from one of the spotlights caught the side of his face, throwing the scar onto his cheek into harsh illumination. His eyes remained hidden from her in the half-light. ‘I came here to talk to you, but it looks like you’re in a hurry.’
‘I was coming to find you,’ she admitted.
That twisty smile she loved so much tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘But you didn’t know where I was.’
She shrugged. ‘As if I was going to let a little thing like that stop me. I’m very determined when I know what I want.’
Moving down until he was level with her, Will crowded into her space until their bodies were a bare inch apart. ‘And what’s that?’ he said, voice rough with a need that echoed the one deep inside her.
‘You. Always, and forever. I thought Bluebell Castle was my home, that I needed to be here to feel whole, but I was wrong.’ Raising her hand, she pressed it over his heart. ‘This is my home.’
‘Igraine.’ His arms banded around them, trapping her hand between them as he bent his head and claimed her mouth.
It wasn’t an easy kiss, like the ones that so often ended a fairy tale. Just like their life together would be, it was hard, and demanding, and a little bit messy as they pulled at each other in their desperate need to be ever closer together. His hands found her hair and tugged her curls free from the complicated chignon they’d been pinned up into, and she managed to wriggle hers out from beneath them and grab at the back of his T-shirt as she sought and found the hot, smooth skin of his back.
No, definitely not a fairy tale kiss. But it was perfect, and it was real, and it was everything she wanted for the rest of her life.
Epilogue
The sounds of children’s shrieking laughter filled the air as Iggy wound her way around the packed stalls covering the grass amphitheatre beneath the sparkling fountains of the water garden. A huge splash followed by a roar of laughter and cheers drew her eyes across the showground to where Arthur had once more been plunged into the huge dunk tank by a lucky strike on target. Shoving water from his eyes, Arthur gave a wave to the gathered crowd and gamely clambered back up to resume his position on the mechanised seat.
‘Dunk the baronet’ was proving one of the most popular draws from the queue of people lined up to take their turn, and every penny spent was going towards a good cause. Rather than just create an area in the garden where children could come and have fun digging and planting, they were looking into setting up a proper charitable trust. The Ector and Kay Ludworth Memorial Foundation was still in the earliest development stages, but Iggy was hopeful she could turn it into a reality from which she could run educational programmes for schools in the local area, and maybe further afield one day.
Warm arms looped around her waist, and Will kiss dropped onto the spot beneath her ear that never failed to make her squirm with pleasure. ‘When’s it your turn in the tank?’ he asked.
Leaning back into his solid chest, she glanced up at him. ‘Never mind about me, it’s you the crowds have all come to see. If I can get you on that ducking stool, we’ll raise a fortune.’
He laughed against her cheek. ‘You just want to see me in a wet T-shirt.’
She turned in his arms. ‘I’d much rather see you out of it.’ As she stretched up to claim a kiss, she spotted a couple of shyly grinning girls over his shoulder. ‘Oops, your fan club’s found you again.’
‘Hold that thought,’ he growled, squeezing her hips before he released her and turned with a smile to beckon the girls over. He’d been like that all morning, showing infinite patience from the moment he’d cut the ceremonial ribbon to official open the fete and instead of the crowd pouring onto the showground, most of them had clamoured around him for autographs and selfies. For a man who professed to hate publicity as much as Will, he was putting on a damn good show for the crowd, and she was infinitely grateful to him for it.
Placing a hand on his back, she said. ‘I’m going to check on everyone, I’ll see you over by the tea tent in a bit, okay?’
‘Okay, sweetheart.’ He flashed her that smile of his, and it wasn’t just the giggling teens ready to swoon over him.
She took her time working her way around towards the refreshment tent, pausing to check with the various vendors that everything was okay, and that none of them had any problems. They seemed to be doing a roaring trade, and there were already huge lines curling around the various food trucks as the public fed their never-ending appetite for junk food. Everywhere she looked, there were smiling faces, and the face-painting stand looked to be a hit from the numbers of tiny tigers, butterflies and glittering fairies she passed in the crowds.
When she reached the tea tent, it was to find that Will had beaten her to it and was squatting down beside a table where her Aunt Morgana was talking to a woman of a similar age. With her white hair permed into tight curls, and what looked to be a hand-knitted pink cardigan over the bright flowers of her sundress, the woman looked the antithesis of Morgana in her understated navy linen and neat court shoes, but the two of them looked to be getting on like a house on fire, which delighted Iggy no end.
‘There you are, my dear.’ Mrs Tyler, Will’s old next door neighbour beamed at her as though they were old friends and not someone Will had only briefly had time to introduce her to when he’d collected her from the station late the previous evening. ‘I was just telling your aunt how proud I am of everything you and my Will have achieved here.’
She reached out to cup Will’s cheek with her gnarled fingers. ‘And to think that none of this might have happened if I hadn’t fallen off that damn ladder all those years ago.’
Will turned his face to press a kiss to her palm. ‘I thought I was rescuing you that day, but it was the other way around, wasn’t it?’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ she said, but Iggy could tell from the colour on her cheeks she was pleased none the same. ‘You always had a special talent inside you all along, you just needed someone to spot that potential in you.’
As Will straightened up, Iggy slid into his side, her arm curling around his waist and his about her shoulders in that puzzle-piece perfect fit they’d already found together. ‘What about you?’ he murmured, nuzzling his lips against her cheek. ‘Do you think I’ve got any special talents?’
Laughing, Iggy stroked his cheek, loving the contrast of rough and smooth on his cheek which said so much of the soul inside the man. ‘Let’s say you’ve got potential.’
If you enjoyed Sunshine Over Bluebell Castle, why not try Spring Skies Over Bluebell Castle?
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Acknowledgements
Welcome back to Bluebell Castle! I can’t tell you how much fun I had tormenting poor Iggy and Will on the way to their happy ending. They really gave me the runaround as I tried to write their story, but I’m thrilled with how their story turned out in the end. I hope you will agree they are a perfect match for one another.
I’d like to take a few moments to pay tribute to everyone who continues to support me through book after book, especially all my lovely readers. Every message, every note, every lovely comment I receive about one of my books gives me such an amazing boost – thank you. x
Huge thanks as ever to my wonderful husband. I couldn’t do this without you. x
To my fantastic editor, Charlotte Mursell, who is simply the best. x
#TeamHQ. I am beyond lucky to be working with such an incredible publishing team, long may it continue!
My online support network of fellow writers, who prove every day why this is the best job in the world. Thank you, Philippa, Jules, Darcie, Bella and Rachel for getting me through the tough times and making sure I celebrate the good ones. I love you all. x
Finally, to all the book bloggers and reviewers out there who give up their time to support authors and spread
their love of reading far and wide. Thank you! x
Turn the page for an exclusive extract from Sunrise at Butterfly Cove, the first novel in the enchanting Butterfly Cove series …
Prologue
October 2014
‘And the winner of the 2014 Martindale Prize for Best New Artist is …’
Daniel Fitzwilliams lounged back in his chair and took another sip from the never-emptying glass of champagne. His bow tie hung loose around his neck, and the first two buttons of his wing-collar shirt had been unfastened since just after the main course had been served. The room temperature hovered somewhere around the fifth circle of hell and he wondered how much longer he would have to endure the fake smiles and shoulder pats from strangers passing his table.
The MC made a big performance of rustling the large silver envelope in his hand. ‘Get on with it, mate,’ Daniel muttered. His agent, Nigel, gave him a smile and gulped at the contents of his own glass. His nomination had been a huge surprise and no one expected him to win, Daniel least of all.
‘Well, well.’ The MC adjusted his glasses and peered at the card he’d finally wrestled free. ‘I am delighted to announce that the winner of the Martindale Prize is Fitz, for his series “Interactions”.’
A roar of noise from the rest of his tablemates covered the choking sounds of Nigel inhaling half a glass of champagne. Daniel’s own glass slipped from his limp fingers and rolled harmlessly under the table. ‘Bugger me.’
Sunshine Over Bluebell Castle Page 24
