Chapter 10
LACHLAN
The board selected our members carefully at Ardnoch, which meant we tried to avoid A-listers with a reputation for being difficult, people who believed the world revolved entirely around them.
That meant issues with members’ bad behavior were few and far between.
Mostly because I made it my business to anticipate the needs of my members.
It didn’t mean problems, no matter how silly they might seem, didn’t arise.
“I don’t think I’m understanding the issue, Agnes.” I stared impatiently at my head housekeeper.
I was informed half an hour ago that Robyn was on the estate, this time to train Lucy in self-defense. This information agitated me. I vowed to stay away from the source of said agitation, but to my utter irritation, I itched to make sure she wasn’t up to any nonsense while my back was turned.
That meant I had little to no patience to deal with Angeline Potter, British actor and current darling of a mammoth streaming service, insisting on extra shortbread in her room.
We filled a crystal jar of locally made shortbread every day as part of the housekeeping service.
In the evening for turndown service, we left locally made chocolates in little gift bags on the members’ pillows and a hot toddy on their bedside table.
It was little touches like this the members loved. Ardnoch was the ultimate hotel experience. A home away from home where everything was taken care of.
Agnes had been with me since we’d opened Ardnoch.
She’d been head housekeeper at a five-star hotel in Glasgow when I’d stolen her away.
“Sir, it is not that Ms. Potter has requested extra shortbread. Of that, we are happy to oblige. It is that Ms. Potter has accused my housekeepers of stealing her shortbread instead of admitting she has eaten it all herself.”
It was extremely hard to keep a straight face. “I see.”
“Och, don’t you dare laugh. It’s not a laughing matter.”
Only Agnes could get away with admonishing me like a schoolboy.
“I apologize. And I am sorry that Ms. Potter has accused the housekeeping of stealing. If her accusations continue, then I will discuss it with her. However, for now, add a second jar of shortbread to her room each morning and see if that helps.”
“I can already tell you, it won’t. She’ll eat both jars and be even angrier at herself for it and then blame us.”
I would like to claim obliviousness to such thinking, but I’d seen people behave bizarrely when it came to food and body image.
My attention caught on the grandfather clock in Agnes’s office.
Robyn had been on the estate for thirty-five minutes.
She’d leave soon. Then I’d feel less agitated.
“I’m sure you can think of something to handle it, Agnes.
For now, I have a pressing matter to see to.
” I gave her an abrupt nod, ignored her glare of annoyance, and strode out of her office and through the castle.
Cutting through the drawing room that led to a side entrance, I nodded hello at a director and his wife who sat near the exit and ignored everyone else because that’s what they preferred. If they wanted to talk, they approached me. Otherwise, I left them to it, as if this was their home too.
As I passed into the short corridor between the drawing room and the library, I caught sight of one of my waiters stealing an hors d’oeuvre and cramming it into his mouth.
He saw me at the last second and blanched.
Trying to quell my impatience to march down to the studio at the loch, I made sure none of the five guests in the drawing room watched as I approached the young man.
His name was Andrew, and he was a permanent member of staff. I hired extra staff during the summer months and often in the early winter months too.
“Andrew,” I murmured.
“Sir,” he squeaked out.
“Do I not pay you well enough, Andrew?”
“Sir?”
“To feed yourself?”
He paled. “Sorry, sir.”
I straightened Andrew’s cravat. My butler, underbutler, footmen, and waitstaff, all genders, wore the traditional uniform—cravat, waistcoat, coat tails, and white gloves.
The members loved it. I doubted his waitstaff loved it, though the girls seemed to get a kick out of it.
Or that’s what Alfred, my ma?tre d’h?tel, told me.
“While I see no harm in swiping leftovers once they’re taken back to the kitchen,” I said, giving him a pointed look, “I do not want to see you eating the members’ food in plain sight of them ever again. Are we clear?”
He swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Adair.”
I turned to see Alfred approaching. The ma?tre d’h?tel wore the same uniform but his waistcoat, like Wakefield’s, was dark green instead of white to differentiate them from the rest of the staff.
Alfred glanced between Andrew and me, eyes glinting hard at the thought of one of his staff displeasing me.
While Alfred was the best ma?tre d’h?tel in the country, he was so because he was dedicated and disciplined.
Once he was close enough not to be overheard, he murmured, “I do hope there isn’t a problem, Mr. Adair.”
“No, Mr. Ramsay.” I always used Alfred’s full name in front of the staff and members. It was his preference to be as formal and professional as possible. “I was just asking Andrew how he likes the job so far. I do believe he’s only been with us for a few months.”
Andrew looked surprised I’d covered for him but hid it quickly.
“And what did Andrew reply?” Alfred asked his waiter directly.
The young man straightened like a soldier. “I like it very much, Mr. Ramsay, Mr. Adair.”
“Well, if that’ll be all.” I nodded to the men and hurried away before either could stop me.
Escaping out the side entrance that led onto the path that cut through the golf course and down to the loch, I thought I was home free. Someone had to make sure Robyn didn’t cause trouble while she was here.
Mac’s words from earlier that morning came to me.
“You’re treating her well?” Mac asked from his hospital bed. His pallor had improved significantly. “Robyn?”
“Treating her well?”
“Accommodating her. She wouldn’t tell me much this morning. Just wanted to talk the case through.”
“She’s not exhausting you, is she?”
“No.” He gave a sharp shake of his head. “But I feel useless lying here while she’s out there investigating. If anything happens to her, Lachlan, because of this case …”
Stupidly, it hadn’t occurred to me that Robyn might be putting herself in danger. “Shit, Mac … ask her to stop, then.”
“Nah. She’s as stubborn as her old man. Just … watch out for her. Please.”
It was the last thing I wanted to do.
In fact, I vowed to stay away from her. She was intrusive and brash and I always felt like she was quietly mocking me.
No woman had ever dared to quietly mock me.
No one, for that matter.
At least not to my face.
“Lachlan!” a man shouted from behind me, gravel crunching underfoot.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered under my breath. Was I to never get to the damn studio? Reluctantly turning, I found Fergus hurrying across the estate grounds from the direction of the mews.
He wore overalls and a massive grin.
That was Fergus. You always got him the same way. Cheerful and accommodating.
I tried to shrug off my impatience. Fergus didn’t deserve it.
“Fergus, what I can do for you?”
“I saw you heading toward the loch?”
I nodded.
The mechanic grinned. “Great. I’ll come with you. I need to speak to Ery about her Defender.”
I knew Fergus was working on a Defender Eredine had saved from the scrap heap. He was doing it during his downtime, between his work on the estate cars.
Together we walked to Eredine’s studio, Fergus prattling on about the Defender, his words going in one ear and out the other.
I nodded and made noises of agreement now and then, but I had absolutely no clue what the mechanic was talking about.
My mind was on Robyn Penhaligon and the stalker threatening the peace at Ardnoch.
My mind seemed to be on very little else these days.
Climbing the porch of the studio, I could hear Robyn’s husky voice. I held a hand up to Fergus to stop him from entering the studio, and quietly pulled open the door to look inside.
While the broken windows were taped up as we waited for the new ones to arrive, the mirrors were cleaned, and all damage had been repaired as quickly as possible. The studio was usable again.
Something I couldn’t quite understand moved through me at the sight of Lucy and Eredine locked in a grapple while Robyn stood beside them, hands on hips, calling out instructions.
Eredine trained with her.
Eredine, who trusted no one but my family.
My attention drifted from my pseudo sister’s expression of concentration, past Lucy, to Robyn. She’d performed a miracle.
“That’s it!” Robyn called out, clapping.
“You’ve turned Lucy’s strike against her.
You have her trapped. Now, if she were a man, you would pull her forward—pull her forward, Eredine—that’s it, and this is where she, or more likely he, is open to a knee strike.
Do you see? Yes, like that. If Lucy were a dude and you’d actually hit him, he’d be in extreme testicular agony right now. ”
I heard Eredine’s chuckle and Lucy’s snort, but for some ludicrous reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off Robyn.
She wore workout gear, much like the other ladies, except she wore a full tank covering her slender torso.
No cleavage on display, though the tank was tight enough to reveal she had large breasts.
And she was tall for a woman. Maybe five seven, five eight. Her legs went on forever.
She turned and bent down to grab a bottle of water, providing me with an excellent view of a perfect, heart-shaped arse.
“Lachlan!” Eredine called.
Robyn whirled, and I yanked my gaze away, locking eyes with Eredine. I gave her what I hoped wasn’t a guilty smile. “Just wanted to check on things.”
“Can I go in yet?” Fergus said at my back. “Or are you done ogling?”