Seduced By The Boss. Kate Hardy
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stone, with floor-to-ceiling sash windows on the ground floor, mullioned windows on the top floor, wisteria climbing the walls which wasn’t in bloom yet but would look stunning in a couple of weeks, and a wide front door with a spider-web fanlight above it.
‘That’s gorgeous,’ she said. ‘And I’ve got this weird sense of déjà vu—I know I’ve never been here before, but somehow I feel as if I have.’
‘You’ve probably seen the house on TV,’ he said. ‘It’s been used as a location for a few period dramas.’
Before she had the chance to ask which ones, he parked on the gravelled area outside the house.
‘I see my brothers are already here,’ he said.
There were two sports cars similar to Hugh’s parked outside the house, along with a Range Rover, a Daimler and a Bentley. It felt almost as if she was walking into one of the period dramas he’d mentioned. And it was a million miles away from her own background. Was she really going to be able to pull this off?
‘The grandparents and the aunts are here, too, by the looks of it,’ he said. ‘We might as well go in and say hello. There probably isn’t enough time to give you a proper guided tour of the house before tea’s served, but I promise I’ll do it tomorrow. Ma’s probably in the kitchen fussing about. She said afternoon tea would be in the dining room and the cocktail party tonight’s in the ballroom.’
‘Your parents have a ballroom?’ She smiled to hide the panic that trickled through her. ‘That’s very Jane Austen.’
‘It’s probably been in one of the Austen adaptations. I can’t really remember,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Which sounds terribly snooty, but it isn’t meant to be.’
‘Of course not.’ Bella had the feeling that he was much more nervous about this than he looked, and somehow that made her feel a little less nervous. A little less alone.
‘Imagine the kind of house parties they had back in Austen’s time,’ he said. ‘I’d be off fishing or hunting with my brothers, or playing cards and drinking. But the women in the house party wouldn’t be allowed to do much more than read or play the piano. They’d be under constant scrutiny, and there were all the intricate manners...’ He shuddered. ‘I hate that kind of stuff. I’m glad it’s not like that now.’
‘Isn’t it?’ she asked softly—because that bit about constant scrutiny and manners sounded personal.
‘No.’
‘It was for my sister.’ The words were out before she could stop them.
He looked at her. ‘How?’
‘I...’ She sighed. ‘OK. You’re unlikely to meet her again, but if you do and you tell her you know why she drank all that champagne that night I might have to kill you.’
‘Noted. What happened?’ he asked, sounding curious.
‘She was at the golden wedding anniversary party for her fiancé’s parents. Let’s just say that Cynthia of the Concrete Hair—’
He blinked. ‘Who?’
‘Howard’s mother. You know the sort of woman I mean. Everything’s all about appearances and she’s so polished that her hair is set like concrete.’ Bella waved a dismissive hand. ‘And she watches you like a hawk and judges you—usually unfairly.’
‘Yes, I’ve come across people like that,’ he said.
‘So I think Gracie finally realised that if she went ahead and married Howard, her life was going to be seriously miserable.’ She grimaced. ‘She tried to blot it out by drinking champagne. It didn’t work. So, for the first time ever, I was the sister who did the rescuing—with a lot of help from you.’ She bit her lip. ‘The wedding was meant to be next weekend.’
‘So Grace was a runaway bride?’ He looked surprised.
‘No. She didn’t jilt Howard at the altar—she’d never do anything that mean. But they’d been engaged for four years and he never swept her off her feet, not once.’
‘Being swept off your feet is overrated,’ Hugh said. ‘You’re more likely to fall into a puddle of slurry.’
‘Slurry?’ she asked, not understanding.
He grinned. ‘You’re definitely a townie, then. Slurry is liquid manure. Used as fertiliser on fields.’
She pulled a face. ‘That’s vile.’
‘Exactly how it smells. You always know when it’s muck-spreading season.’
‘It’s not muck-spreading season now, is it?’
He laughed. ‘No.’
‘Good.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Righty. Time to play my part, I guess. Ditzy and unsuitable girlfriend with a terrible taste in clothes—that’s me, right?’
‘Right. And thank you for saving my bacon. I appreciate this. Even if it might not seem that way.’
He took their bags from the car and they went into the house. Bella noticed the sweeping staircase coming into the hallway and the Regency striped paper on the walls; the house really was gorgeous, and she itched to explore, though she knew it would be rude to ask.
Three dogs came rushing down the hallway to meet them, their tails a wagging blur.
‘I forgot to warn you about the mutts,’ he said. ‘Sorry. Are you OK with dogs?’
‘Very OK. I grew up with a dog,’ she said, and bent down to make a fuss of the chocolate Labrador, Westie and Cocker Spaniel.
‘This lot are Lennie the lab, Wilf the Westie and Sukie the spaniel,’ he introduced them.
The dogs wriggled and shoved each other and tried to get closer to Bella. ‘They’re lovely,’ she said, laughing. ‘Hello, you ravening beasties. I’m sorry, I don’t have any treats for you because I wasn’t expecting to meet you, but I can rub your ears and scratch your backs for you, and I’ll play ball with you for a bit if you want.’
‘Do that and they’ll pester you for the whole weekend,’ Hugh warned.
She smiled up at him. ‘And that’s a problem, how?’
A woman who looked so much like Hugh that she had to be his mother came into the hallway and hugged him. ‘Darling, I’m so glad you could make it.’
OK, so now she had to be Miss Ditzy. Breathe, Bella reminded herself, and stay in character. She stood up and gave her best attempt at a goofy smile.
‘Bella, this is my mother, Elizabeth Moncrieff,’ Hugh said.
‘Libby will do nicely,’ Hugh’s mother said. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony in this house.’
‘Ma, this is my friend Bella Faraday,’ Hugh continued.
‘Like the scientist?’
Libby had perfect manners, Bella thought, and didn’t even look the remotest bit fazed by Bella’s outlandish dress. ‘Yes, like the scientist,’ she agreed, before remembering that she was supposed to be playing the part of someone who would probably never have heard of Michael Faraday, let alone known who he was.
‘I’ll just show Bella up to her room,’ Hugh said hastily.
‘She’s in the Blue Room, next to yours. I hope that’s all right?’
‘Thank you, Mrs Mon—’ Bella began.
‘Libby,’ Hugh’s mother reminded her.
‘Libby.’ Bella opened her bag and took out the beautifully wrapped package of dark chocolates she’d bought earlier. ‘And these are for you, to say thank you for having me.’
‘How lovely.’ Libby went pink. ‘And I recognise that packaging. These are