Chapter Eleven
The holiday tours at Langley Park had begun and, while Rhys wasn’t in the part of the house being toured, there was activity all over the estate and he was fine working in the morning, but by noon the lines begun to form for the one p.m. tour, and for the next three hours it was loud with the hum of conversation and the nonstop parade of cars coming and going.
Today, he packed up early and said quick goodbyes to Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Booth who were in the kitchen, trying to stay out of the way of the tours, but also being available should they suddenly be needed.
“I don’t know how you handle this,” he said to them. “It’s chaos.”
“Mrs. Booth has the worst of it,” Mrs. Johnson said. “I just hide here in the kitchen making my Christmas puddings while she manages the volunteers.”
“Or the volunteers manage me,” Mrs. Booth said with a wry smile.
“But it’s only for a few days, and the tours raise money for many local nonprofits, Bakewell charities that wouldn’t survive without the donations from the event.
You’re not alone, though, in wanting to avoid the tours.
Lord Sherbourne won’t be here until the twenty-third, just in time for the VIP champagne tour that wraps it all up. ”
Rhys’s eyebrow lifted, surprised. He’d only decided to take the cottage here at Langley Park because Alec wouldn’t be in residence for the holidays. “I didn’t think Alec would be here for Christmas this year.”
“He wasn’t going to, but the twins have only just gotten over the influenza and Lady Sherbourne didn’t think it would be wise to have them travel internationally so soon after being sick. They’re just toddlers and still building up their immune system.”
“Good for her,” he said. Cara was wiser than his wife had been when their girls were little.
Lyndsey had insisted on Christmas in Texas nearly every year until Olivia was two, and he put his foot down saying the girls needed some English Christmas traditions, and he could see going to Houston every other year, but not every year.
Him putting his foot down just might have been the beginning of the end.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll try not to bother you too much.”
“Not a bother, ever,” Mrs. Booth answered warmly. “You know how happy I am you are here. This is a house made for families, and it’s a wonderful thing that you’ve brought your girls here with you.”
The cottage was quiet when he opened the front door. He found Cat in the sitting room, curled into the armchair with her laptop, on what appeared to be a Zoom call. She looked at him and pointed to her computer.
He nodded, understanding, and headed to the kitchen where the girls were painting pinecones in silver and gold and adding bits of glitter to the wet paint.
“Hi Daddy,” Olivia said, pointing to her pinecone, which had more glitter than cone in some places. “These are for the fireplace mantle.”
“Very nice,” he said, pulling a chair out and sitting down with them. “You’ve made some very nice decorations,” he said, inspecting one cone with precise gold paint on each of the tips.
“That’s Cat’s,” Jillian said. “She only could make one before her interview.”
“She has an interview?” Rhys asked.
Olivia nodded. “With someone in Michigan. On Facetime.”
“They wanted her to start soon but she said she can’t, not until after the holidays,” Jillian added.
Cat appeared just then in the kitchen doorway, her cheeks flushed, and a smudge of gold on her chin. “Sorry about that. They asked for my phone number but I didn’t expect them to call so soon.”
“How did it go?” he asked.
“Fine, I think.” Cat grimaced. “Except they think I should be thrilled to get an offer and jump on a plane and fly home soon. I told them the earliest I could be there was January fifth or sixth, and I’d let them know after I gave the job some thought.”
“That’s excellent news,” Rhys said, thinking it was anything but excellent news.
He didn’t like the idea of Cat going anywhere, never mind back to America.
“You’re back early,” Cat said, crossing to the table to check on the pinecone production. “These are lovely, girls. They’ll make a stunning table wreath for our new Christmas candle.”
The girls began discussing the candle and how many pinecones would be needed and they were all so engaged in their art project that Rhys hated to interrupt, but he’d returned home with an idea, and he wanted to run his plan by everyone.
“What would you think if we went on an outing?” he asked.
Jillian set her paintbrush down instantly. “Where? When?”
“Today. To Castleton,” he answered, pleased by her enthusiasm. “If we leave now, we’ll get there in time to see the lights come on. And if we’re lucky, Peveril Castle’s illumination will be on tonight.”
Olivia did a little dance, wearing the paint on her face and apron. “The castle that glows?”
“That’s the one,” Rhys said. “And we can have dinner afterwards.”
“You girls go wash up and change. I’ll clean up here,” Cat said.
Rhys began collecting the paintbrushes. “You’re coming with us. You need to go change, too.”
*
It was a short drive, twenty minutes through winding, frost-rimmed lanes, and the girls chattered the entire way, pointing out sheep in the fields, laughing whenever the road dipped unexpectedly.
Cat sat in the passenger seat, glancing sideways every so often.
Rhys looked relaxed, one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally reaching back to pat whichever daughter had leaned forward for his attention.
When they crested the last small rise, Castleton unfurled before them—golden lights strung across shopfronts, stone cottages decorated with wreaths, and above it all, perched dramatically on its hill, the silhouette of Peveril Castle.
And then, as if on cue, the lights flickered on. The ruins glowed warm against the darkening sky.
“Oh!” Cat breathed.
The girls pressed their faces to the windows.
“It’s magic,” Jillian whispered.
They parked and wandered through the village, their boots crunching lightly on the frosty pavement. Rhys kept a protective watch over the girls but walked close to Cat, her shoulder brushing his arm now and then, sending electric darts of sensation through her.
She’d never felt this kind of attraction to anyone before, not in high school, or college, or while dating in London. She met a lot of nice people—well, and some not so nice—but no one had made her feel quite so alive, or full of emotion.
Up on the castle hill, the path was steep and narrow, but lanterns had been set out along the lower stretch, casting soft pools of light on the ground.
They didn’t climb all the way—Rhys laughed, acknowledging that the girls would be miserable halfway up—but they walked far enough to see the illuminated ruins from a clear vantage point.
Cat’s breath clouded on the air. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “This is why I chose to come to England. It’s everything I love most.”
He shot her a quick glance, and there was a glimmer of laughter in his eyes, but more than laughter, there was also warmth, and a spark of something else. It was the something else that sent a shiver racing through her, making her go hot and then cold.
Cat looked away and yet her cheeks burned and her heart was pounding and it was silly to feel so … so … aware of him, but she did. Not that she was proud of it, either.
The girls were still running, chasing each other back down the hill, and Cat was glad for the time to get her feelings under control.
“Tell me about the job,” Rhys said, as they walked back into town.
“It’s a boy’s boarding school. Very elite, quite expensive, and privileged. Their mission is to prepare young men to be the leaders for the future, via attending the top Ivy League schools in the country.”
He laughed quietly. “You don’t sound impressed.”
“They only want me for my Ancient Greek and Latin. Well, history too, but the Greek and Latin is what attracted them the most.”
“Why is that a bad thing?”
“Because I studied Greek and Latin so I could read about classical civilization without needing translation, but it’s history I want to teach, not languages all day, every day.
One Latin class I could handle, but I don’t think I’d be happy at a school like that.
” She turned her head to check for the girls, discovering they were on the grass almost adjacent to them running in circles, playing chase.
“I’d honestly rather teach girls to be the leaders of the future than boys.
” Her mouth quirked. “Not that there is anything wrong with boys.”
“Good. You’ve put my mind at ease,” he teased, stopping in front of the Peak Hotel. “I made reservations here. We’re still a little early but let’s see if they can seat us.”
The Peak Hotel’s cream and golden restaurant walls glowed, and the open hearth had a proper fire burning. They were seated not far from the hearth, at a long table with an upholstered bench against the wall and a pair of light blue painted chairs opposite.
Rhys pulled out a chair for Cat, and then sat down next to her, while the girls scrambled onto the upholstered booth, but Jillian didn’t look happy, her gaze sweeping from Cat to her father and back again.
Rhys noticed. “What’s wrong, Jilly?” he asked.
Her brow creased but she forced a shrug. “Nothing.”
“Something is,” he persisted.
“I’m going to go wash my hands,” she said curtly, sliding out of the booth and walking through the pub to the restroom.
“I’ll go with her,” Cat said, rising.
“No. She’s almost thirteen,” Rhys answered, his hand on her arm. “This is a family place. She’ll be fine.”