The Earl of London Read online

  “You really need to try and be a little more open-minded,” Aurora said.

  “About what?”

  “About new people moving into the village.”

  “I’m just protective. I just want to preserve what’s special about the place. If our new neighbor destroys everything in his path, I don’t want Woolton Village to be next on his list.”

  “You’re being so dramatic. I know you want things to stay as they always have been. And you’re not good with change, but I just think—”

  “I don’t know how you can say that—if it wasn’t for me, this farm shop wouldn’t exist.”

  “True enough. But I think sometimes you’re clinging on to an idealized view of how things should be, instead of how they are. All I’m saying is, be open to new ideas. New people.”

  I welcomed new people. Scarlett had been welcomed into the family, and she was an outsider. An American. And Scarlett’s sister, Violet, had become a close friend. Aurora wasn’t looking at the facts.

  “Did you ever think you’re writing this new guy off because he’s just not familiar?”

  “Aurora, seriously? You read that article. Does he seem like the kind of man I’d be attracted to?”

  “But when’s the last time you dated?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything? I’d happily date someone if I met someone I liked.”

  “Really?” she asked, her raised eyebrows and tilted head calling me out as a liar.

  “Really. And you’re a fine one to talk.”

  “If you remember, I went on a date last week.”

  “Dates in London don’t count.” It wasn’t as if she could get serious about someone who lived in the city any more than I could.

  “Darcy, we’re an hour and a half away from the city. We’re hardly in the Outer Hebrides.”

  “I’m just being practical.”

  “So unless someone you like moves in next door, you don’t want to date them, but if they do move in next door, they’re not good enough because they’re a weekender, or they’re tough in business or their wellies aren’t muddy enough.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Am I? So you weren’t considering avoiding the new owner of Badsley House?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You should have already been by,” she said, elbowing me in the ribs. “You might even find out the newspaper was wrong about him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Whoever they are, they’re not going to disrupt anything in Woolton, but even if they do, maybe that’s a good thing.”

  Aurora must have a short memory. “How can you say that? Every time we get newcomers in the village, disaster strikes.”

  “Disaster? You’re exaggerating.”

  “I am? What about the Thompsons and the Foleys? And when Mr. Jenkins got run over by that Aston Martin?”

  “But the driver was a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Lonsdale. It wasn’t anyone in the village.”

  “Exactly. People from the city don’t understand life out here. They don’t know that Mr. Jenkins can’t get to the other side of the road as quickly as most people because of his arthritis. They wouldn’t think to slow down. They’re less compassionate, less thoughtful.”

  Aurora sighed. “Woolton can’t exist in some kind of perfect bubble. Sometimes change can be a good thing.”

  She would never convince me of that. I’d had far too much change growing up. My mother wandering in and out of our lives as it suited her. My grandmother dying. Then my grandfather falling ill and dying a couple of years ago.

  Woolton was the constant. It had always been the life raft I could cling to when everything was falling apart. My world was returning to a new normal, and I just wanted the normal to stick around for a while. I wanted to preserve the village so it was the same place my grandparents lived in, the same place that provided mine and my brother’s safe and happy haven. I wanted to maintain it for them, for me, for all the people who would need Woolton Village as much as I had. That wasn’t such a bad thing, was it?

  “You know your grandfather would want you to visit the new owners of Badsley.”

  I sighed. Aurora was right. I really should probably go and introduce myself when I wasn’t trespassing and covered in mud. And a basket would be a nice touch. “Okay, you win. Help me pick out some things you think they’d like and I’ll go and visit tomorrow.”

  “You never know, he might get involved in village life—he could be an asset to the village.”

  “Helicopters and everything,” I said, putting some organic asparagus in my basket.

  “Keep an open mind,” she replied. “He might be a breath of fresh air.”

  “We have plenty of that.” But I’d go and welcome them. At the very least, I could make a plea for him to stop flying over the village.

  Six

  Darcy

  Visiting my new neighbor at Badsley House was the last thing I wanted to be doing. I tightened my grip on the basket I was carrying and pressed the brass doorbell. Glancing around, the house looked just like it always had. The wisteria that crept up over the door was about to bloom and the box hedging around the driveway was neatly cut.

  At the sound of movement on the other side of the door, I pulled my shoulders back and my mouth into a wide smile.

  A woman in her mid-fifties smiled back. My mind flicked through possibilities, a housekeeper? No, she was wearing a nurse’s uniform, Logan’s mother? Was someone ill?

  “Hello,” I said.

  She nodded. “Good afternoon.”

  “I’m a neighbor—Darcy Westbury. I just popped by to drop this off and welcome you to the village.”

  “Ahhh, Mrs. Steele is in the garden. Let me show you through.”

  Mrs. Steele? Did she mean Logan’s mother or did the ladies of the W.I. have it wrong when they said Logan was single? “I don’t want to impose if someone is unwell. I can come back another time, or just leave this,” I said offering the basket of food and gifts. When I was ill, I wanted to curl up in bed and watch reality TV. I certainly didn’t want to entertain strangers.

  “Mrs. Steele is perfectly fine. Please follow me.”

  I stepped inside the house and glanced around. There were fewer pictures on the walls, and it looked like the place had been recently decorated, though I hadn’t noticed any workmen in the village.

  I followed the nurse through the flagstone hallway to the back of the house where the orangery opened up onto the terrace. I’d always loved this room.

  The nurse walked ahead of me and up to someone sitting at one of the tables on the terrace. “Mrs. Steele, your new neighbor, Darcy Westbury, is here to see you.”

  “How delightful,” she said, craning her neck to see me. This elderly woman was Mrs. Steele? So not Logan’s wife then. Did she live here? With Logan? I had exactly a thousand questions.

  She started to stand, but I stopped her. “Please don’t get up. I don’t want to impose. I just came to drop this off and I will let you be—”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Steele said. “You must stay for tea. Julie, would you see to that?”

  Julie beamed. “Certainly. I’ll be back shortly.”

  Mrs. Steele indicated the chair next to me. “Now, come and sit down. You’re the first new friend I’ve made in this village and I won’t let you leave until I know all about you.”

  I laughed and took a seat. It was the kind of thing my grandfather would have said, and despite not knowing anything about Mrs. Steele, I decided I liked her.

  “So how are you enjoying the garden?” I asked.

  “Isn’t it wonderful? So many memories. And do you know, the gardener has agreed to stay on with us? I’m so pleased.”

  I grinned, thankful that Mr. Fawsley’s talents were recognized. “Well, that was very nice of him. So, you’re here on your own today? With Julie?”

  “Logan’s in London, but will be back shortly. Really, he shouldn’t be spending so much time with
his grandmother, but there’s no telling him what to do. I think he’s trying to make sure I’m settled, although he’d never admit it. He’s such a thoughtful young man. I’m so proud of him.”

  The way she described him suggested a very different person than the one described in the article in The Times, but my grandfather used to dote on me like Mrs. Steele clearly doted on Logan. I missed that feeling of having someone completely on my team.

  “So you live here? With Logan?” The man I’d met didn’t strike me as the type who lived with his grandmother.

  “Well, he insists it’s my house.” She shook her head. “That boy. But yes, this is my home and Logan’s at the weekend. And you’re from the village, dear?”

  “Yes. At Woolton Hall.”

  “Oh my—you’re the Duke of Fairfax’s granddaughter?”

  “Well, sister now.” I’d been the Duke of Fairfax’s granddaughter for most of my adult life, and it still felt odd to think of my brother as the duke.

  “Yes, I heard about your grandfather. I’m so sorry. He was a good man. I liked him very much.”

  “You knew my grandfather?”

  She nodded. “A lifetime ago. Oh, we had such fun. Your grandfather was very mischievous when he was young. The ringleader of our crowd. Although marriage tamed him somewhat, I do think your grandmother was the perfect match for him. She seemed to encourage his spark in the right direction.”

  Joy and confusion bloomed in my chest at her memories. “My grandmother loved his mischievous nature,” I replied. “How did you know each other?”

  “Didn’t I say? I grew up in Woolton Village. In this very house.” She glanced around. “Not much has changed.”

  “You used to live here in Woolton? But I’ve been here since I was a small child.” Mrs. Brookely had lived here for as long as I’d been alive.

  She sighed. “I left over three decades ago. I have such wonderful memories from the place. And I think over the years I must have talked about the place to Logan more often than I should have.”

  I was so taken aback, I hardly knew what to say. “And you used to know my grandfather.” If only he was here. They could swap stories, share memories. “Did you know each other well?”

  “Yes. Very well. I knew your grandmother too. We all moved in the same circles, even more so when I married. Back in those days the British aristocracy was like an exclusive little club.” So Logan was an earl. He hadn’t introduced himself that way. “My husband’s ancestral home was up in Scotland and that was never my favorite place. When he died, I moved back down here to my parents’ place to help out with Logan after he was born.” I thought I caught a look of sadness in her eyes, but almost as if to make up for it, she smiled widely. “I suppose this is the third time I’ve come back. Some places are just special, I guess.”

  Mrs. Steele wasn’t an outsider. She’d known the village longer than I had, understood how wonderful it was. “Welcome back. It’s so wonderful to meet someone who was friends with my grandparents.”

  “Thank you, my dear. It’s good to be back. Anyway, enough about me. I heard your brother lives in America. Is it just you up at the house?”

  I didn’t want to talk about me. I wanted to hear more about Mrs. Steele and my grandparents when they were young. But I would have to be patient. “Well, just me and everyone else who helps look after the place.”

  “So you’re not married, dear?”

  I shook my head.

  “Do you have a boyfriend? You’re very pretty. I’m sure you must have suitors lining up.”

  I laughed. She was nosy, but sweet. I couldn’t be offended. “There’s no line. And no boyfriend.”

  “I don’t know what it is with you young people. Logan’s the same.” She sighed as Julie delivered our tea, then disappeared again. “No girlfriend and doesn’t seem to get any closer to having a family with each passing year.”

  I didn’t respond, unsure of what to say. I got the feeling Mrs. Steele’s comments were deliberately aimed at me, but given we’d just met, she couldn’t be suggesting that I should take an interest in her grandson, could she?

  “Will you be mother?” Mrs. Steele asked, inviting me to pour the tea.

  “Of course. It would be my pleasure.” I set about checking the strength of the tea and arranging cups and saucers before pouring us both a cup.

  “So tell me why such a lovely, pretty girl like you doesn’t have a boyfriend, or a queue of waiting men.” Without looking away from me, she took a sip of her tea.

  I smiled at her. “I’m married to the estate. It’s my family’s legacy and I really enjoy making sure it’s ready for the next generation. It doesn’t leave time for much else.”

  “Gosh, my Logan’s just the same. Work, work, work. But he always has time for me.”

  The distant sounds of a helicopter echoed above us. My gut churned. I really didn’t want to run into Logan again. My conversation with Mrs. Steele was so confusing. Instead of confirming that Logan was just some city type who was spoiled and entitled with no love of the countryside, he had some kind of right to be here. And he’d bought this place to keep his grandmother happy. I needed a chance to rearrange my thoughts.

  “Is it me, or do you hear a helicopter?” Mrs. Steele asked.

  There was no mistaking it. “Yes, it sounds like your grandson is on his way back.”

  “Perfect. You’ll get to meet him. I think you two are going to get along famously. How old are you, Darcy?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “Excellent,” was all she said.

  What was excellent about being twenty-eight? It was far too close to thirty for my liking. Before I got a chance to ask, the overwhelming sound of the helicopter prevented any more talking. We watched as it landed and Logan stepped out.

  He grinned and waved at his grandmother before turning his attention toward me. I offered a wave in return as my heart began to thunder through my blouse. I hadn’t remembered quite how handsome he was. As he came toward us, warmth travelled through my body and I couldn’t help but smile.

  Today, he wore a navy-blue suit without a tie and he seemed even taller than I remembered. His square jaw had a day’s worth of stubble on it, and his broad chest and confident walk fought for my attention. This man knew he was attractive. Enjoyed it. And I couldn’t blame him. Aurora was going to think I was full of crap when she saw him in the flesh. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss how good-looking he was.

  From the confused look on his face, it didn’t look as if he remembered me. Perhaps that was just as well.

  “Logan, so wonderful to have you home early on a Friday,” Mrs. Steele said, a smile on her face as wide as the sky. She clearly adored him.

  He took the three steps up on to the terrace and bent and kissed his grandmother on the cheek. “Well I couldn’t let you enjoy this beautiful day on your own a moment longer. But apparently, I needn’t have worried,” he replied, glancing at me, his eyes sparkling. I couldn’t tell if it was curiosity as to what I was doing there, or general pleasure at being home. Either way, I couldn’t stop staring. Who was this man? Every time I heard something more about him, I had to change my mind about who he was. From horse-whisperer to corporate raider to granny’s boy and back.

  “Let me introduce my new friend, Darcy. She lives up at Woolton Hall, which is her family’s estate.”

  I smiled and held out my hand. “Hi,” I said, still unsure whether or not he recognized me.

  “Nice to see you again,” he replied, taking my hand in his firm grip, his voice vibrating across my skin. Apparently, I didn’t look that different, clean or muddy.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Mrs. Steele glancing between us. “You know each other?”

  A small grin curled his lips as he held my gaze. “I met Darcy last Sunday on my walk around the boundary. I think I mentioned it. I’m afraid to say, Granny, that I don’t think I left a very good impression.”

  “Oh dear. What did you do?
” She patted the seat next to her and Logan sat—directly opposite me.

  “Nothing.” I shook my head, feeling the intensity of his stare as I addressed his grandmother. “Nothing at all. It was me. I was covered in mud and I was trespassing—I’ve gotten far too used to the previous owners of Badsley House being very relaxed about me riding on their land. I’m sorry.”

  “You have no need to be. You were right. It is a beautiful view,” he replied. “Shall we start again from now?”

  Heat rose in my cheeks as I nodded. I needed a fresh start with him, perhaps I’d judged him too harshly. “Sure. Fresh start.”

  “Darcy brought us this beautiful gift,” Mrs. Steele said. “She’s such a thoughtful girl, and devoted to her family’s estate, isn’t that right? Sounds to me like you deserve some time off. Do you go out anywhere in the evenings? Perhaps you’d show my grandson what young people do in the village. I don’t want him getting bored, sitting in with me all weekend.”

  Logan chuckled. “I could never get bored beating you at gin rummy, Granny.”

  “Beat me? As if. I taught you everything you know.”

  “True enough.”

  It was lovely to see Logan and Mrs. Steele interact, but it made me a little sad that I wasn’t able to tease my grandfather anymore, that he wasn’t able to scold me for running about the house in bare feet. I wonder if there would ever be a day when I didn’t miss him.

  “But I go to bed early anyway—you really should find out what goes on in the evenings. Darcy, what kind of thing do you get up to?”

  “I wish I could tell you some scandalous stories, or even just a few interesting ones. I’m a homebody, so I enjoy being at Woolton with my grandfather’s library and a hot bath.”

  Logan’s eyebrows pulsed upward. “Now that does sound potentially scandalous,” he said.

  I straightened, a little embarrassed by his reaction. I hadn’t meant to be flirtatious. “It’s anything but. Since my grandfather passed away I live a very quiet life, although sometimes my best friend and I go into the village because the pub serves great food, and we can catch up with people. My family has a house in London, so I tend to save socializing for when I’m in town.”