Chapter Fourteen
Henry walked Granger around the central block of shops in the village, the dog’s paws padding along the damp pavement.
He knew he needed the air and the walk more than the dog, who had been traversing the grounds of Dapplebury House all day.
But Henry had grown fond of having Granger at his side; the dog provided welcome company, at a time when he felt more alone than he could ever recall before.
Translating the Italian as see you tonight, and seeing the sign, surrounded by hearts, reminded Henry of the date. Valentine’s Day. He shook his head and looked back to Granger. ‘You’re not as good-looking, but you’re probably more sincere than my usual Valentine’s dates.’ He smiled.
Having checked his watch and seeing it was after eight, he decided to walk Granger past The Brown Dog. At least an Italian night sounded less like an excuse for a fancy dress party than he had found on his last venture into the pub.
As he walked along the cobbled street, Henry welcomed the chill evening air that nipped at the bare skin of his newly shaven face.
Being out made him feel alive. His days had started to merge into one, with his time spent accompanying his mother to various functions, or trying to familiarise himself with his father’s business as he attempted to get his head around the complexities of running the estate.
By night his thoughts always slipped to Ava.
He knew his early morning runs were motivated by the hope of seeing her, as much as wanting to maintain a level of fitness, and the need to clear his head.
In contrast to the rest of the village, The Brown Dog looked warm and inviting.
He could hear the upbeat tones of Italian folk music, mixed with laughter.
Lights shone through the etched glass windows, the slither that afforded a glimpse inside showed it was busy.
The people looked happy, some were smartly dressed, while others were wearing green, white and red.
What is it with these people and their need to dress up?
Being in the vicinity of the pub, he could almost taste a cold beer and wondered whether to go inside.
Rubbing his hand around his chin, he decided against it.
When he slipped into the pub on his first night back in England, he had purposely done so anonymously, now, local coverage of his father’s death and the fact he’d succumbed to a shave and haircut meant he would be recognised.
Aside from the fact he was only interested in talking to one person inside, Henry knew the people of the village were enjoying themselves.
He didn’t want to give them cause to stop.
His father had been well liked amongst the villagers, upon seeing him, no doubt they’d want to offer sympathy.
Or worse, he told himself. They might tell you what they think of the heir to the estate leaving and not returning until the well-respected Lord Bramlington was on his deathbed.
Henry shuddered as a chill crept down his spine.
He’d have to face the villagers soon enough, and he knew what he’d have to say would see him plummet further in the popularity stakes than he probably already had.
Preparing to head home, Henry noticed a sign on the door: “No date? No worries. Come and join our single and ready to mingle table!” He rolled his eyes, wondering whom Ava was inside with.
The barman? Would she be on the singles table?
The thought that she could be inside, chatting to someone else, laughing and looking at them the way she once had him, was . . . frustrating.
He wondered what she would think of him if word got out about his initial intentions for the Dapplebury estate. Henry pushed the thought from his mind; he had let Ava down before, the idea of ever seeing that look in her eyes again was too much to contemplate.