Chapter 15 The Ride
THE RIDE
“Right, Francois is a scream,” I told him.
“Sorry?” he asked.
“Prue’s favorite designer,” I explained. “She called him to tell him we were showing. He had champagne and caviar waiting for us, which is gross, by the way. The caviar, I mean.”
“Mm,” he hummed with amusement.
“It was like the Princess of Wales showed up to try on his wild creations. Prue was so stunned. She had no idea he loved her from afar for so long.”
“Loved her from afar?”
That held no amusement.
Zip.
Nada.
None.
“He’s very gay, Battle, so don’t get all brotherly.”
Battle said nothing, though I noted he relaxed.
Such a good brother.
But maybe, in some instances, an overbearing one.
Though, maybe that was the way all good brothers were.
“I think she dropped four thousand pounds in there,” I informed him. “Four hundred on this crazy black knit beanie with all these curled bits coming down. It looks like an octopus. It suits her to perfection.”
He chuckled before saying, “Perhaps why he greeted you with champagne.”
“Maybe part of it,” I allowed. “But he still adores her. I guess they’ve been corresponding a little bit after she became a regular of his online store. It was really cool to see her appreciated like that. I wish you could have seen it.”
“Me as well,” he murmured. Then, “How was Chassie?”
“Okay. Better at the gardens yesterday. But okay.”
“I noted what you said over dinner last night. She seemed preoccupied.”
She did.
“Agreed.”
“But not traumatized.”
“Agreed to that too.”
“We’ll have to see,” he muttered, the concern evident.
“She went. She did enjoy the gardens. I know she loves being with all of you. It’ll be okay.”
“Hmm.”
“And it’s not my place to say, but I suggest we back off and let her think on things.”
He reached a hand my way, I gave it to him, and he curled his fingers around it and rested it on his thigh.
Nice.
“She’s had three years to think, darling,” he pointed out.
I forced out a breath.
“But no more pushing her,” he conceded. “At least for the weekend.”
“Well, going back on what I just said, I have a wee bit of an idea in the sense that Prue has an appointment with Ravenna next week, she asked me to go with, and I thought, if Prue’s okay with it, we’d ask Chassie to go with us too.”
He gave my hand a squeeze. “Perfect.”
Then he put my hand in my lap, let it go and returned his to the wheel.
Although I loved holding hands with him, I appreciated him letting me go. We were just out of London, it was Friday traffic, but I’d noticed M4 traffic always seemed heavy. I was glad he intended to concentrate and keep both hands on the wheel.
“At the risk of making you dislike Chelsea more…” he began.
Oh boy.
“What?” I snapped. “Has she done something else?”
“No. It’s just that Fitzy and Patsy usually have Fridays and Saturdays off, also Sunday mornings. Emily, Sundays and Mondays. And because Chelsea, Rally and Court showed last weekend, they didn’t get their days off.”
Ugh!
“Did Chelsea know that?” I asked.
“Unlikely. She still wouldn’t care.”
God, that woman.
“So, obviously, Tempie gave them Thursday off to start to make up for it,” he went on. “And they won’t be back to work until Tuesday, in order to fully make up for it.”
“Oh, okay.”
“That means Tempie will probably head into the village to grab us a curry or hit the chippie for tonight, and it’ll be very casual until Tuesday. They’ll have left us some croissants or something for breakfast, but we’ll be eating out or getting takeaways for lunch and dinner.”
I turned to stare at him.
“There are some lovely restaurants around The Downs,” he said. “I thought tomorrow, you and I could go to a pub that has excellent steak dinners.”
“Battle, I can cook.”
“Sorry?”
I was trying hard not to bust out laughing.
“Honey, I know how to cook,” I repeated.
But the instant I called him honey, the atmosphere in the vehicle became, well…honeyed. Thick and oozing sweet.
I powered through that loveliness and went on, “I’ll take that steak dinner, but if Emily’s down with me using her kitchen, I can scramble some eggs and make toast and even pancakes or something.
Definitely I could throw together some sandwiches or big salads for lunch.
And I’ve got a full repertoire of dinner selections. ”
He was suddenly frowning.
So I asked, “What?”
“Is this your attempt to pay me back?”
Jeez.
This guy.
“No, Battle, this is what normal people without cooks and butlers and housekeepers do. They make their own food. Anyway, not only do I love to cook, it’d be a dream to cook in Emily’s kitchen.
It’s a chef’s kitchen, for one. But for another, I’m a history junkie.
Cooking in a space that has fed countless dukes and duchesses, earls and countesses, barons and baronesses, etcetera, would be so fun. ”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes, Battle, I’m certain.”
“Not tonight, I’m looking forward to a curry, or fish and chips, or tomorrow, but you can have Sunday and Monday, if it’s your wish.”
“Awesome,” I replied, then asked, “So, Tempie manages the staff at The Downs?”
“Tempie manages The Downs.”
Interesting response.
“Is there a distinction?”
“No and yes. The no part being she does indeed manage the staff, insofar as they need managing, which they don’t.
Fitzy and Patsy take care of everything, but they do report to Tempie.
Tempie handles payroll. And manages the house books, alongside Fitzy.
She also manages all the enterprises of The Downs. ”
“The enterprises?”
He glanced at me. “We let some of our fields to adjacent farmers. She deals with that. However, The Downs for centuries has had a herd of Lincoln Longwool sheep. We raise them, sell the wool. Or the shepherds who Tempie hires raise them. We also own six attached buildings on the High Street in the village. We let the ground floors for shops and the upper floors as flats. Tempie manages those as well. The duchy further owns four cottages at the northernmost end of our property. They used to be tenant cottages. She manages those lets as well. The Downs is an income-producing property, and Tempie has responsibility for all of it. She’s essentially our steward. ”
“She’s the steward?”
“Yes.”
“So she gets email sent to the steward?”
“I have a member of staff who vets any email coming into The Downs for such purposes, so she doesn’t have to wade through the chaff. But yes, if it’s actionable, she gets it.”
“So it was Tempie who forwarded my email to Prue,” I mumbled.
“I’m sorry?”
“That’s how I met Prue. I got my hands on the steward’s email and mine was forwarded to Prue.”
“Tempie probably knew she enjoyed your books.”
Undoubtedly.
This meant Tempie had a job, and it was a big one. Chassie used to have a flourishing flower shop, though now she managed the gardens, which were a project. She was out there every day, rain or shine. But Prue seemed to be a lady of leisure.
I’d never asked, because I’d never dealt with people remotely like the Talyns.
Though, I would admit that I assumed all three of them just lived off The Downs and frittered away their days doing whatever.
“Are Scotty and Harry security?” I inquired.
“Of a sort,” Battle said. “I’m in London most of the time, and I do believe Fitzy can handle most anything. However, that big house, and all it contains, primarily its most precious things, my sisters and Fitzy and Patsy, when I’m away, I need to feel they’re all safe.”
Okay.
Yeah.
So overbearing and overprotective was a good thing.
He kept going.
“Scotty and Harry live in the steward’s cottage, a property we’d probably let if they didn’t.
And no, we don’t need them around to serve.
But yes, I do need men around simply to have men around, but also to make sure the pipes aren’t leaking, and if they are, to fix them.
They’re both jacks-of-all-trades, but providing presence is one of those trades.
Part of their regular duties is to patrol the property daily.
It isn’t a fortress. We can get poachers.
We can also get people who want to take pictures.
And there’s always the threat of someone wanting to do something nefarious, even though I’ll stress that threat is very minimal.
The people in the village know they’re right on hand, if needed.
And anyone who might be watching would not miss two fit young men who can take care of themselves, and my family. ”
Mm-hmm.
I could fall for this guy.
Hard.
And for forever.
“There’s always one on call,” Battle continued. “Tempie manages their days off.”
“Do they provide your speaker security at the front gate?”
“No. The gate is watched twenty-four/seven by an outside contractor who Tempie or Fitzy informs if we’re expecting guests, workmen, whoever may come to call.
They deal accordingly with anyone who shows at the gate.
Including notifying Scotty or Harry if someone needs to be handled.
Or, if some dire circumstance occurs, corresponding directly with the police. ”
“Right. Can they check the veracity of an ID? Like a passport or driver’s license.”
“Yes. They’re one of the top of the line of firms who do this kind of thing, and as such, quite costly.”
I bet.
“Is this for interest, or are you asking about this for another purpose?” he queried.
“For interest,” I said. “What other purpose would I have?”
“That you don’t feel safe at The Downs.”
His comment surprised me. “Why wouldn’t I feel safe?”
“There is the matter of you mentioning Christian.”
Argh.
“Forget I said anything,” I ordered.
“Has he shown interest in you?”
“I’ve only seen him twice, and I don’t think he’s ever seen me.”
“You are hard to miss, darling, as is your very lovely arse, phenomenally long legs and magnificent head of hair.”
All he said was delightful.
But…
Hang on.
Had he been stewing on me mentioning Christian because he was…
Jealous?