Chapter 9 #2
A knock on the driver-side window propels me back to planet normal.
Gregory snarls but his expression lightens when he turns to see the face at the window.
She looks like Williams, just a very attractive, female version.
Gregory unhooks my seatbelt, then his own.
As soon as his feet hit the gravel, Charlotte wraps her arms around his neck.
He hugs her back, a rare display of emotion.
‘This is Scarlett,’ he says, taking my hand and encouraging me to his side.
‘Hi, Charlotte. It’s nice to meet you.’
She throws herself forward and plants a kiss on my cheek, startling me but making me smile, part uncomfortably, part because I like her immediately.
‘Would you calm down?’ Williams says. ‘Forgive my little sister; she doesn’t get out much.’ He leans forward to kiss my cheek. Then takes Gregory’s hand in a firm shake. ‘How was China?’
Gregory nods brusquely, his CEO persona in full swing. ‘The deal is on.’
We’re joined by a young man in Pride and Prejudice style get-up. He takes our bags on the shake of a hand from Gregory, no doubt accepting a note, and heads through the courtyard into the palatial home.
‘Mr Ryans, we’re up here.’ The voice belongs to Kian, one of the attendants from Gregory’s farmhouse-cum-mansion in Surrey, his luxurious property outside the city, complete with land, dogs, staff and a triple garage full of motorbikes.
My mind drifts to a memory of him kitted out in leathers and the feel of my legs wrapped around his lean hips as we burnt up the country roads around the farm. ‘How was your drive, sir?’
‘Not bad, Kian. How does he look?’
We climb the incline to where a string of horse boxes and four-wheel drives are lined up along a dirt track, and men in various stages of undress are hopping into jodhpurs and black blazers.
‘He’s looking really good, sir. I’ve had him out every day this week. He’s ready for the season.’
We wait to one side whilst Kian retrieves the grand, shining, black horse from the box labelled GJR. Gregory moves straight to the horse, stroking the length of its mane, then its back. ‘Good work, Kian. He looks great.’
‘He’s riding well too, sir.’
‘All right, saddle him up.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Gregory glides his hands down my shoulders, his palms coming to rest in mine.
‘I need to say hello to a few people. Why don’t you go down to the breakfast room?
Charlotte will be there. The hunt starts just to the right of the last horse box there.
Come up and see us off, then you can do whatever: look around the house, take a walk.
If you get fed up, you can always go back to our room.
The reception is in the courtyard. They’ll help you. ’
‘Mr Ryans, you’re stressing unnecessarily. I’m a big girl; I’ll be fine for… how long will you be?’
He shrugs. ‘A few hours, maybe. We’ll head back early afternoon before it gets too dark. They’ll announce in the house when we’re on our way. The ladies tend to watch us back in.’
‘Sounds very pretentious.’
‘It is very pretentious, but these men are money: private equity, hedge funds. Sometimes, it pays to play their games.’
I nod, understanding completely that this is business more than pleasure.
He plants a kiss on my brow. ‘Have I told you how good your arse looks in these trousers?’
I smile. ‘You just did.’
He turns me by my shoulders and points me in the direction of the breakfast room, slapping my bottom as I walk and receiving an over-shoulder scowl in response.
The large, wooden door is held open for me by another young man in period dress: a thigh-length waistcoat, baggy, knee-length trousers with pulled-up socks and a frilly cravat.
The dining room really is something special.
The ceilings are high and adorned in intricate architecture.
Four very grand, gold and crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling above the white-clothed tables.
The impressive, arched windows on two walls flood the room with bright light.
‘Scarlett, over here!’ Charlotte jumps up from her seat at a table with six women who all look like they’ve been dressed by Julia and Lucas. Her dark-blonde waves bounce on her broad but slim shoulders. She really is striking in that kind of edgy, model way.
‘Ladies, this is Scarlett,’ Charlotte announces as I take a seat at the table. ‘She’s with Gregory.’
I glance around the table, smiling as I say hello.
I recognise one of the women: scorned Stella from Lara’s party last week.
This should be fun. Her dyed, blonde hair is swept up in a French roll and clip, her natural, tight curls spraying out at the top.
She takes a purposeful sip of champagne, eyeing me as she does, then places her lipstick-stained glass next to her Eggs Royale.
‘Nice to see you again, Stella.’ Even though it really isn’t. Five minutes in this woman’s company on Saturday was enough for a lifetime.
She sits taller in her chair, her back perfectly straight. ‘Two events in one week; there’s a first.’
‘Stella, stop!’ A woman with black hair, lacquered away from her face at the sides, smiles at me: a disingenuous smile if I ever saw one.
She waves a hand in the air and a waiter comes immediately to our table.
‘This here’s Scarlett; she’ll need some breakfast too.
’ Her accent is decorated with a hint of North American but she’s obviously lived in England for a long time.
‘Just tea is fine, thank you,’ I say.
‘English Breakfast, madam?’
‘That would be great, thank you.’
‘I’m Caroline. And never mind Stella; she’s just a little shocked, as we all are.’ She wags her head slightly and brings one side of her hair over her shoulder. ‘Gregory’s the eternal bachelor.’
‘We see him with plenty of women but never with the same woman twice.’ Another woman with flushed cheeks, possibly from champagne, throws in her twopenn’orth.
I don’t need to look to know Stella is still burning holes into me. Well, this is just lovely. Subtly checking my watch, I realise I’ve been here a full seven minutes. The hunt hasn’t even begun yet. Three hours is going to be torture.
‘Don’t you all look just wonderful?’ An elderly lady is making her way towards us gingerly, using a stick to take her weight. She shuffles, more than lifts, her brogued feet forward.
The lady to my right, dressed entirely in black, with pearls draped around her neck – a departure from the seemingly staple shirt and gilet – leans into my ear. ‘That’s the Duchess.’
‘Thank you, erm…’
‘Florence.’ She seems to be the only sincere one at the table. ‘Try not to let this lot get to you,’ she whispers. ‘They’re all after Gregory. They’re like wolves for money and the fact he’s a young, strapping body and a fine face to match sends them into a frenzy.’
‘No hope of me winning them over, then?’
‘Would you want to?’ She laughs so boldly that even though it’s a short-lived sound, it makes her whole body wobble.
‘Probably not. But it’d make my day and night a little easier.’
‘You’re not part of their circle, darling; I’m afraid they won’t be making it easy for you.’
‘They’re about to start,’ the Duchess announces in a voice that matches her frailty, when she finally reaches our table.
‘Come on, Scarlett,’ Charlotte chirps, dancing out of her seat.
‘Are you coming?’ I ask Florence, who’s sipping her tea.
‘Oh good Lord, no! After thirty-odd years of marriage, you’ll get bored of watching it. I’ll be happier here.’
We make our way up the hill to where a group of English foxhounds is being controlled by two men in red blazers and hard, black, velour-coated hats.
The other hunters come cantering towards the pack, all dressed in black blazers, cream jodhpurs and black hats fastened beneath their chin.
I scour the faces and eventually find my strapping knight, sitting with pride atop his stallion.
Mr Darcy really has nothing on Gregory Ryans.
‘Gregory looks as good as ever.’ The whisper finds my ears but I turn left and right and can’t locate the owner.
‘It’s so exciting!’ Charlotte says, giving my shoulder a giddy nudge. It really isn’t but I smile at her before locating my knight again.
Those piercing, brown eyes are looking right at me.
‘You okay?’ he mouths.
I nod and curl my lips as high as I can force them. He doesn’t need to know I’m having an utterly shit morning, being talked about both behind my back and to my face and thrown daggers by rich women in expensive clone clothes, one of whom just happens to be Stella, who I’ve already come to despise.
A third man in a red blazer holds a black stick in the air and everyone, including the pack of hounds, falls silent.
‘The scent has been laid. Let us commence the season. Good hunting, fellows.’ With that, the foxhounds head out with the red coats.
Gregory knocks his heels into his stallion and sets off, flanked by Williams.
We stand, some women doing far too overzealous waves, until the hunt is out of sight.
‘Gosh, that was fun.’ Charlotte is back at my side, smiling in the way Williams does, charmingly, defying any person not to smile back. ‘Should we go back to breakfast?’
‘Actually, I was thinking about taking a walk around the grounds.’
‘Good idea. I’ll come with you.’
I know I need to smarten up my miserable face but I really have no desire to be here. ‘Excellent.’
She thrusts her arm through mine as I walk with my hands in the pockets of my gilet. We make our way past the house, to a lake and into the fields beyond, strolling leisurely, intentionally killing time.
‘My brother said you’re a lawyer?’
‘Yes, I am. I work for him sometimes.’
‘He said. And that’s how you met Gregory?’
‘Yes.’
We both turn sharply when the water feature shoots high into the sky and sprays down into the lake behind us. ‘What do you do?’
‘I’m in my final year of uni. I’m studying Classics so God knows what I’ll do when I graduate.’ She laughs.
‘Do you enjoy it?’