Chapter 16
E dward could turn it on when it was required, or when it suited him, oozing the quintessential Scottish charm tourists seemed to love, potentially only matched by the Irish– something spoke to their Gaelic roots on a subliminal level, perhaps.
The watchful eye of Lily, who sat immediately to his left, was also doing its part to keep him in check.
To his right sat the shoeless monk, Michael.
Next to him, Ana?se sat across from her best friend, Miranda, and Leonard’s seat faced him from the bottom of the table.
All in all, a seating arrangement his mother would be proud of.
The thought made Edward almost roll his eyes.
“What kept you, darlin’?” Ana?se pouted and raised her arm in the air, reaching out her hand impatiently. “Where have you been? Edward has been regaling us with tales from when you were boys– it’s been delightful.”
Leonard took his bride-to-be’s hand and kissed it.
“Forgive me, my love. I ran into Scarlett on my travels.” As he spoke the words, he looked across the table at his brother and smiled, his intention producing the desired effect.
Edward’s jaw twitched, but refusing to engage, he moved the remaining vegetables around his plate, refusing to give Leonard the satisfaction.
“Such a charming creature, isn’t she? She reminds me of Merida from Brave . You know the movie? All wild red curls and feistiness. Just what I imagined Scottish lassies to be like.” Ana?se beamed.
“Scarlett is actually English.” Lily smiled politely.
Ana?se dismissed the correction with her hand. “Same thing, I guess.” She handed her glass to Leonard. “Darlin’, would you please?”
“Not really.” Lily ignored Ana?se’s transparent attempt to move on from the faux pas.
Despite their differences, a smile played on both brothers’ lips at Lily’s polite but obvious defiance– she was a true Scot at heart, which made them proud.
Ana?se was oblivious, or refusing to play the game, and instead turned her attention to Leonard, who was attending to her drink.
Edward observed the dynamics between them with interest. There was no question of her wealth, beauty, and impeccable upbringing, but the air of arrogance and entitlement soured the package for Edward.
Apparently, Lily was feeling the same, judging by the way she was watching Leonard’s uncharacteristic pampering of Ana?se and his bizarre inner channelling of a golden retriever with subtle disapproval.
In a way, Edward felt disappointed for her, as Lily had been beyond excited to come and spend time with her uncle and his fiancée’s dazzling entourage– only to face the cringeworthy farce taking place in their dining room.
Ana?se brought him back to the conversation with a jolt. “Edward?”
“Yes, sorry?” He looked across at Ana?se, who narrowed her eyes at him.
“It’s insane how similar you and Lennie look sometimes. It’s uncanny.” She looked between the two, slowly shaking her head. “Anyway, I said, where did you find her?”
“Who?” Edward said, having lost track of the mundane dinner chat.
“Your maid, Scarlett, of course.”
Edward struggled to keep the smile from his face this time. “She’s not a maid, per se.”
“Oh, whatever you call them here then– servants, the help, you know what I mean.”
The others in the room also seemed genuinely stumped by what to say in response, but Leonard, clearly the most experienced of the group at dealing with his fiancée’s social bumbling, stepped in.
“She’s the daughter of our gardener, June.” He handed Ana?se her refilled glass, sitting back beside her as if ready to hold court. “It’s an interesting story, actually. You’ll like this.”
Ana?se clapped her hands in delight, making Edward and Lily widen their eyes simultaneously.
Leonard clocked them, raised an eyebrow in a warning to rein in their judgemental looks, but then smiled, taking a long sip of his wine before continuing.
“So, June is an avid reader, quite the collection of books she has up there in the stables.” Leonard glanced at Edward who was now glaring at him with contempt. The idea of Leonard visiting the stables, and the Hope women, made his knuckles whiten as his hand gripped the arm of his chair.
The reaction made Leonard smile, his charm turning up a notch further.
“She loves nineteenth and early twentieth century fiction. Guess what her favourite book is?”
The monk, who had been sitting in contemplative silence for most of the meal, lifted his head with a big grin on his face. “ Gone with the Wind !”
Leonard applauded with a good-natured laugh. “There you have it. She named her daughter after Scarlett O’Hara.”
“Such an epic movie.” The monk was still smiling. “A classic, for sure.”
“You’re so good with people, Lennie, the way you take the time to speak to them.
I just love that about you.” Ana?se turned her attention to Miranda, her maid of honour, who was successfully drinking herself into a silent stupor.
“Maybe we should think about getting you to bed. You look a bit pale, darlin’.
” She reached across and placed her hand on Miranda’s.
“Don’t you be getting all bossy with me, Annie St. Clare!” Miranda waved her away. “You are not the boss of me.”
The childish outburst sent Ana?se into a tinkling fit of laughter, and Miranda, the monk, and Leonard joined in.
Edward and Lily exchanged bemused looks.
“Told you.” Edward lowered his voice so his words were only audible to Lily. “Fucking circus act.”
“Dad, don’t be so judgy!” Lily scolded him, but it lacked the weight of her usual contempt for his old-school dad ways, and despite the reprimand, she gave him a conspiratorial smile. “They are a bit mad, though.”
Edward silently thanked the universe that he hadn’t completely lost his daughter, and, even more importantly, that she could see through the ridiculous facade and pretentious nonsense at their dining table.
Mrs Wilson provided a welcome distraction when she entered the room.
“So wonderful to hear the house full of laughter,” she almost sang, ushering in the two kitchen hands she’d recently hired from the neighbouring village– two lads, no older than twenty, who began lifting and clearing away plates and dishes from the long table.
Edward noticed Lily tense and blush as the eldest of the two grazed her hand as he took away her plate, softly offering his apology and hurrying back off to the kitchen.
“It was requested there be no sweets or puddings for our esteemed guests, so instead I’ve prepared some coffee and brandy in the drawing room whenever you’re ready to go through.”
Edward placed his napkin on the table and stood up.
“Thank you, Mrs Wilson. We’ll get out of the way to allow the room to be cleared. Then you and the rest of the staff can finish up for the evening. We’ll be able to look after ourselves for the rest of the night.”
He moved around to the back of Lily’s chair, moving it away as she stood– the idea of her being anywhere near the boy, judging by the palpable chemistry between them, made him uncomfortable, at best.
The rest of the party began scraping their chairs back, rising to leave as instructed by their host, Miranda finding it more challenging than the others.
“Mrs Wilson, dinner was perfect, as always.” With a slight bow and a twinkling smile, Leonard escorted Ana?se and Miranda out of the room, the two women laughing and hanging over him like two drunks on a hen do.
Mrs Wilson smiled politely and nodded her head in response.
The monk passed her too, offering a polite nod of thanks, with Lily in tow, who seemed keen not to miss the rest of the Ana?se and Miranda show.
“Was everything to your liking?” Mrs Wilson smiled at Edward, who was still hovering near the doorway, contemplating his next move, or more accurately, his escape.
“Yes, as my brother rightly said, dinner was perfect, thank you.” He watched as the two young men cleared the table and straightened the chairs. “Good job getting some help in so quickly.”
“They’re good workers.” Mrs Wilson re-straightened a chair after they left the room, arms full of plates. “Alfred McNeil’s boys.”
“The butcher?”
“That’s right,” she said, continuing to busy herself at the table.
“They don’t work with their father then?”
“Mark does. He’s saving for his travels, so working in the evenings as well suits him.”
“And the other one?” Edward was attempting to remain nonchalant, but he recognised the knowing look etched across Mrs Wilson’s face. She never missed a beat.
“James?”
Edward nodded, avoiding her gaze, instead taking a vested interest in the mahogany dresser next to the door, which still bore the deep scratch Leonard had imprinted into the lacquer as a small boy, with the help of a small red matchbox car.
“He’s vegan.” Mrs Wilson shrugged as if that explained everything.
Edward couldn’t help but smile. “Tricky in that line of business.”
“Indeed.” Mrs Wilson chuckled, gathering the last of the small plates. “Helps me with ideas for the vegan gentleman in Leonard’s party, though.” She smiled and looked up at Edward. “Is there anything else I can get for you this evening?”
A healthy serving of Scarlett would be nice.
The thought was entirely involuntary and wildly inappropriate to the extent a slight blush appeared on his neck.
He had to get over this ridiculous infatuation and grow the fuck up.
Neither Evelyn, nor Briege, was the answer. Women, he had thought for several years now, did little for his peace of mind– and with the exception of his daughter, who brought her own set of challenges, they were best kept at arm’s length to be loved and admired from a distance.
This was something he’d managed successfully until Scarlett, with her curves, doe-like green eyes, and hair he wanted so badly to smell again– maybe even take a hold of and tug back, giving him full access to the lips he couldn’t get out of his mind.
Despite his earlier vow to leave well alone, the taste of her skin was haunting him, and he literally ached to have access to it again; this time without interruption or clothing– there had been far too much clothing for him to fully appreciate her.
And despite the vivid memory of his hands travelling under her shirt and over her bra, and the sweet moment his fingers sought her under her jeans and underwear, it wasn’t enough.
He needed more, so much more, and the idea of her standing naked in front of him, confident and feisty, yet vulnerable at the same time, was driving him mad– what he wouldn’t do to have access to her. To have her waiting in his rooms now.
Fuck’s sake.
“No, thank you,” he said finally, giving himself a mental shake. “Goodnight, Mrs Wilson.”
Mrs Wilson observed him with obvious interest, clearly wondering what on earth had been taking hold of him recently, but she nodded her head politely.
“Goodnight, sir.”
Edward quickly left the dining room, briefly considering joining the others, but the high-energy commotion and hilarity coming from their direction solidified his resolve to retreat towards his private rooms.
He would catch up on some overdue accounts for the tenanted cottages on the outskirts of the estate. That should provide enough of a distraction and a valid excuse not to join in with the festivities.
From the clinking of glasses and enthusiastic rising voices, each grappling to overpower the other, he wouldn’t be missed. He shook his head and entered his office, shutting the door behind him. That was enough for one day.