Jessica Gilmore – Expecting the Earl's Baby (страница 2)

‘You’re not in London,’ he pointed out silkily.

Daisy bit her lip. He had a point and she wasn’t really in any position to argue. ‘Thank you.’

‘No worries, wouldn’t want you to freeze to death on the premises. Think of the paperwork. Talking of which, you’re shivering. Come inside and warm up. I can lend you some socks and a coat. You can’t drive home like that.’

Daisy opened her mouth to refuse and then closed it again. He didn’t seem like an axe murderer and she was getting more and more chilled by the second. If it was a choice between freezing to death and taking her chances inside she was definitely veering towards the latter. Besides... ‘What time is it?’

‘About eleven, why?’

She’d never get home in time to post the blog. ‘I don’t suppose...’ She tried her most winning smile, her cheeks aching with the cold. ‘I don’t suppose I can borrow your Wi-Fi first? There’s something I really need to do.’

‘At this time of night?’

‘It’s part of my job. It won’t take long.’ Daisy gazed up at him hoping her eyes portrayed beseeching and hopeful with a hint of professionalism, not freezing cold and pathetic. Their eyes snagged and the breath hitched in her throat.

‘I suppose you can use it while you warm up.’ The smile was still playing around his mouth and Daisy’s blood began to heat at the expression in his eyes. If he turned it up a little more she wouldn’t need a jumper and socks, her own internal system would have defrosted her quite nicely.

He held out a hand. ‘Seb, I look after this place.’

Daisy took the outstretched hand, her heart skipping a beat as their fingers touched. ‘I’m Daisy. Nice to meet you, Seb.’

He didn’t answer, reaching out and taking her bag, shouldering it with ease as he turned and began to tread gracefully through the ever thickening snow.

‘“Mark my footsteps, my good page,”’ Daisy sang under her breath as she took advantage of the pressed-down snow and hopped from one imprint to the other. Tall, dark, handsome and coming to her rescue on Valentine’s Day? It was almost too good to be true.

CHAPTER ONE

Six weeks later...

DÉJÀ-VU RIPPLED DOWN Daisy’s spine as she rounded the path. It was all so familiar and yet so different.

The last time she had been at Hawksley the castle and grounds had been covered in snow, a fantasy winter wonderland straight out of a historical film. Today the courtyard lawn was the pale green of spring, crocuses and primroses peeking out at the unseasonably warm sun. The old Norman keep rose majestically on her left, the thick grey stone buttresses looking much as they must have looked nearly one thousand years ago, a stark contrast to ye olde charm of the three-storey Tudor home attached to it at right angles.

And straight ahead of her the Georgian house.

Daisy swallowed, every instinct screaming at her to turn and run. She could wait a few weeks, try again then. Maybe try a letter instead. After all, it was still such early days...

But no. She straightened her shoulders. That was the coward’s way out and she had been raised better than that. Confront your problems head-on, that was what her father always told her.

Besides, she really needed to talk to somebody. She didn’t want to face her family, not yet, and none of her friends would understand. He was the only person who this affected in the same way.

Or not. But she had to take the risk.

Decision made, smile plastered on and she was ready to go. If she could just find him that was...

The castle had a very closed-off air. The small ticket office was shut, a sign proclaiming that the grounds and keep wouldn’t be open until Whitsun. Daisy swivelled trying to find signs of life.

Nobody.

There was a small grey door set at the end of the Georgian wing, which she recognised from her earlier visit. It was as good a place to start as any.

Daisy walked over, taking her time and breathing in the fresh spring air, the warm sun on her back giving her courage as she pushed at the door.

‘Great.’ It was firmly locked and there was no bell, ‘You’d think they didn’t want visitors,’ she muttered. Well, want them or not she was here. Daisy knocked as hard as she could, her knuckles smarting at the impact, then stood back and waited, anticipation twisting her stomach.

The door swung open. Slowly. Daisy inhaled and held her breath. Would he remember her?

Would he believe her?

A figure appeared at the door. She exhaled, torn between disappointment and a secret shameful relief. Unless Seb had aged twenty-five years, lost six inches and changed gender this wasn’t him.

Daisy pushed her trilby hat further back and gave the stern-looking woman guarding the door marked ‘private’ an appealing smile. ‘Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find Seb?’

Her appeal was met with crossed arms and a gorgonish expression. ‘Seb?’ There was an incredulous tone to her voice.

The message was loud and clear; smiling wasn’t going to cut it. On the other hand she hadn’t been instantly turned to stone so it wasn’t a total loss.

‘Yes.’ Daisy bit her lip in a sudden panic. She had got his name right, hadn’t she? So much of that night was a blur...

‘The handyman,’ she added helpfully. That she remembered.

‘We have an estate maintenance crew.’ The gorgon sniffed. Actually sniffed. ‘But none of them are named Seb. Maybe you have the wrong place?’ She looked Daisy up and down in a manner that confirmed that, in her eyes, Daisy most definitely did have the wrong place.

Maybe it was the lipstick? Real Real Red wasn’t a shade everyone liked. It was so very red after all but it usually made Daisy feel ready for anything. Even today.

It was like being back at school under her headmistress’s disappointed eye. Daisy resisted the urge to tug her tailored shorts down to regulation knee length and to button up the vintage waistcoat she had thrown on over her white T-shirt.

She took a step back and straightened her shoulders, ready for war. She had replayed this morning over and over in her mind. At no point had she anticipated not actually seeing Seb. Or finding out he didn’t exist.

What if he was a ghost after all?

Surely not. Daisy wasn’t entirely certain what ectoplasm actually was but she was pretty sure it was cold and sticky. Ghosts weren’t made of warm, solid muscle.

No, no dwelling on the muscles. Or the warmth. She pushed the thought out of her mind as firmly as she could and adopted her best, haughty public schoolgirl voice. ‘This is Hawksley Castle, isn’t it?’

Of course it was. Nowhere else had the utterly unique blend of Norman keep, Tudor mansion and Georgian country home that ensured Hawksley remained top of the country’s best-loved stately homes list—according to Debutante magazine anyway.

But Daisy wasn’t interested in the historical significance of the perfectly preserved buildings. She simply wanted to gain access to the final third of the castle, the Georgian wing marked ‘private’.

‘Yes, this is Hawksley Castle and we are not open until Whitsun. So, I suggest, miss, that you return and purchase a ticket then.’

‘Look.’ Daisy was done with playing nice. ‘I’m not here to sightsee. I was here six weeks ago for the Porter-Halstead wedding and got snowed in. Seb helped me and I need to see him. To say thank you,’ she finished a little lamely but there was no way she was telling this woman her real motivation for visiting. She’d be turned to stone for sure.

The gorgon raised an eyebrow. ‘Six weeks later?’

‘I’m not here for a lesson in manners.’ Daisy regretted the snap the second it left her mouth. ‘I’ve been...busy. But better late than never. I thought he was the handyman. He certainly—’ seemed good with his hands flashed through her mind and she coloured ‘—seemed to know his way around.’ Oh, yes, that he did.

Nope. No better.

‘But he definitely works here. He has an office. Tall, dark hair?’ Melting dark green eyes, cheekbones she could have cut herself on and a firm mouth. A mouth he really knew how to use.

Daisy pulled her mind firmly back to the here and now. ‘He had a shovel and snow chains, that’s why I thought he was the handyman but maybe he’s the estate manager?’

Unless he had been a wedding guest putting on a very good act? Had she made a terrible mistake? No, he hadn’t been dressed like a wedding guest, had known his way around the confusing maze behind the baize door in the Georgian wing.

She was going to have to get tough. ‘Listen,’ she began then stopped as something wet and cold snuffled its way into her hand. Looking down, she saw a pair of mournful brown eyes gazing up at her. ‘Monty!’

Proof! Proof that she wasn’t going crazy and proof that Seb was here.

Crouching down to scratch behind the springer spaniel’s floppy brown ears, Daisy broke into a croon. ‘How are you, handsome boy? It’s lovely to see you again. Now if you could just persuade this lady here that I need to see your master that will be brilliant.’ She couldn’t help throwing a triumphant glance over at her adversary.

‘Monty! Here, boy! Monty! Here I say.’ Peremptory tones rang across the courtyard and Daisy’s heart began to speed up, blood rushing around her body in a giddying carousel. Slowly she got back up, leaving one hand on the spaniel’s head, more for strength and warmth, and half turned, a smile on her face.