The Bachelor: Racy, pacy and very funny!. Тилли Бэгшоу

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The Bachelor: Racy, pacy and very funny! - Тилли Бэгшоу


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‘But do tell. What brings you to Hanborough, Flora? I’m quite fascinated. You are a dark horse,’ she added to Henry, reaching across the table and squeezing his arm in an unduly intimate way. ‘Keeping her a secret.’

      Henry retracted his arm as if he’d been scalded. ‘Don’t be silly, Georgina. There’s no secret.’

      Bloody hell, thought Barney. What’s going on there?

      ‘Flora’s our new designer,’ said Eva, sensing the tension around the table but not exactly sure about the cause of it. ‘She’ll be overseeing the entire restoration. And she is quite brilliant.’ She smiled warmly.

      ‘I’m sorry, did you say your father went to prison?’ Seb’s wife Kate piped up in horrified tones, belatedly catching on to the conversation just as the rest of the table was hoping to move on.

      ‘Fraud,’ said George, slicing gleefully into her beef.

      ‘How shocking,’ Kate thundered.

      ‘And how awful for you,’ Lucy Smart said to Flora kindly. ‘Did you really have to leave your school?’

      ‘I didn’t mind that part so much,’ said Flora. ‘School had become pretty much unbearable anyway.’ Her eyes bored into George’s like lasers. ‘But it was a rough time in our lives. I try not to think about it.’

      ‘The chap we’re renting our house from went to prison,’ Richard Smart announced cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood. ‘Eddie Wellesley. Nice bloke, actually.’

      ‘Wasn’t that fraud too?’ asked Seb tactlessly.

      ‘Tax evasion,’ piped up Robert Savile, the first words he’d spoken since he and George arrived. ‘I come across quite a few evasion cases in my practice, actually. The last one I worked on …’

      And he was off, succeeding where Eva had failed and dragging the conversation away from Flora at last.

      For the rest of the meal, no one returned to the subject of Flora’s past, although George took every opportunity to take digs at her present.

      ‘I thought you said Graydon James was redesigning Hanborough?’ she asked Henry.

      ‘He was. He is.’

      ‘So how did you manage to end up with Flora? I don’t understand.’

      ‘A restoration like this is a long-term project,’ Henry answered, tight-lipped. He didn’t know what George was playing at exactly, but he didn’t like it. Everything was a power game with her. ‘Graydon was never going to be able to oversee it personally.’

      ‘Oh, I see. So he sent one of his juniors? That’s a shame. I hope he cut your bill.’

      ‘It’s not a shame at all,’ said Eva. ‘We’re delighted to have Flora here. Aren’t we, Henry?’

      ‘Delighted.’

      Henry’s blue eyes flashed at Flora, and he smiled in a way that made her throat go dry. I can’t figure him out, she thought. One minute he’s being arrogant and obnoxious. And the next he’s sticking up for me.

      ‘You know, Graydon James worked on two of my friends’ houses and he did all the work himself,’ George went on, apparently hell-bent on irritating Henry. ‘You remember Lottie Calthorpe?’

      ‘No,’ Henry scowled.

      ‘Silly! Of course you do,’ trilled George, smiling. ‘Graydon did Lottie and William’s place in the Hamptons, and he was on site the entire time. Then again,’ George added smugly, ‘Lottie has never been one to accept second best.’

      ‘Nor am I,’ said Henry, leaning over and making another great show of kissing Eva. George’s smile died on her lips. Barney Griffith simply felt sick, and dirty, as if he’d been press-ganged into watching some sordid peep show.

      As soon as pudding was over, Flora made her excuses and bolted out to her car like a bat from a burning belfry. Barney followed, just managing to tap on the window of Flora’s rented Volkswagen Touareg before she drove off.

      ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, rubbing his sore hand. There were welts in his palm from where Flora’s nails had almost drawn blood. ‘That was seriously weird.’

      ‘I’m fine,’ Flora exhaled. ‘I just wish I’d known she was coming.’

      ‘George?’

      Flora nodded. ‘I wish I’d been prepared, that’s all.’

      ‘Did you know she was Henry’s business partner?’

      ‘No! I mean, I knew he had a partner called George Savile, but I assumed it was a guy. She was called Georgie Lynne back when I knew her. She made my life hell at school.’ Flora shook her head bitterly at the memories. ‘I’m not sure I’d have taken this job if I’d known it meant running into Georgie again.’

      ‘That’s ridiculous,’ Barney said robustly. ‘Of course you’d have taken the job. School was a lifetime ago. And, even if it weren’t, you can’t let bullies like her get the better of you.’

      ‘Can’t you?’ sighed Flora. She felt defeated suddenly, and horribly low. This guy Barney had been really sweet all evening. But all she wanted right now was to talk to Mason; to feel his safe, comforting arms around her.

      In one short evening, Georgina Savile had managed to poison what should have been one of the happiest, most triumphant moments of Flora’s career. Redesigning Hanborough Castle! Coming back to England, to the glorious Swell Valley, not as an exiled fraudster’s daughter but as a success in her own right. Why, why did that loathsome, manipulative bitch have to be Henry Saxton Brae’s partner? Of all people! It wasn’t fair. After tonight it was only a matter of time until the entire valley knew all about Flora’s dad and her history, the dark past she’d worked so hard to transcend and forget.

      She turned on the engine.

      ‘Thanks for being so nice this evening,’ she said to Barney.

      ‘My pleasure.’

      ‘And sorry about your hand.’

      ‘Oh!’ He gave a brave, it-was-nothing shrug. ‘My pleasure again.’

      ‘I’d better get to my bed. Early start tomorrow.’

      ‘OK,’ said Barney, reluctantly stepping back from the car. ‘Well, sleep well. It was lovely to meet you, Flora.’

      ‘And you.’

      Barney stood and watched as Flora drove away.

      That’s the girl I’m going to marry, he thought.

       CHAPTER NINE

      Summer rolled into the Swell Valley late that year, slow and heavy and swollen with sticky heat like a river of molasses about to burst its banks. But when it finally came it brought record temperatures and an oppressive humidity that made it feel more like a Floridian mangrove swamp than the Sussex countryside.

      While the local villagers sweated, cooling themselves off with ice lollies from the Preedys’ shop or cold jugs of Pimm’s from The Fox, up at Hanborough Castle the work never stopped. Flora had even started to lose some of her famous curves simply from running around the site all day, overseeing work and shouting directions till her throat was hoarse.

      Tony Graham, the contractor, was efficient and on the ball, but he did have a habit of making a drama out of a crisis and niggling over the very tiniest details, right down to which brand of nails Flora wanted for the new joists. He also had the world’s most annoying, nasally voice, so grating that it had begun to creep into Flora’s nightmares. When Eva was around, Flora at least had a friendly face to talk to, or share an occasional snatched


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