of quiet, rural life. But that was just about the only silver lining to the dark clouds which still loomed over his unexpected inheritance.
His young daughter, Emily, appeared to find the whole situation highly amusing—‘It’s really cool, Dad—totally far out!’ But Ace wasn’t particularly thrilled about the fact that, following so many close relatives’ deaths, he’d now inherited a title first granted to his family by Henry VIII.
As he had told one of his oldest friends the other day, ‘Quite frankly, to be now known and addressed as Lord Ratcliffe has to be a complete anachronism in this day and age. Of course, it’s quite useful if I want to book a table in a restaurant,’ he’d added with a wry smile. ‘But in all other respects it seems a bit pointless.’
Ace was, in fact, far more concerned with the many important, vital decisions he would have to take concerning the large estate, amounting to some ten thousand acres.
After calling in agricultural experts, he had learned that, while the land itself was in good heart, the various farmhouses, farm buildings, machinery and livestock had been badly neglected. Unlike his uncle Hector, who’d successfully managed to ignore the problem for so many years, Ace felt it was both his duty and responsibility to do everything he could on behalf of the people and the families living on his estate. Unfortunately, there was also the serious problem of exactly what he was going to do about Ratcliffe Hall.
Pushing back his chair and rising to his feet, he began to prowl restlessly around the large room.
Having made enquiries, he was now in no doubt that, as matters stood at present, it was useless to even think of trying to sell the huge old mansion. No one with any sense would dream of taking on such a massive house. Especially one which needed a great deal of money to be spent on its restoration.
And that was proving to be a real problem. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to pay for the repairs—having worked so hard in the City for the last twenty years, he was now very wealthy in his own right—but, as his own financial advisers had pointed out, why would a divorced man, with no intention of remarrying in the foreseeable future, want to spend a fortune restoring such a huge building which was clearly designed for a large family?
In fact, the whole problem of what to do about Ratcliffe Hall had proved to be nothing but a major headache. Until he’d heard about the needs of film and television companies, who were continually searching for large old houses in which to film their various productions. Which was why, after he’d swiftly contacted several agencies, he’d been pleased to have a TV crew here last month, filming the exterior of the Hall for an Edwardian-style version of Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors.
It wasn’t the complete answer, of course. Although the fee which he’d received for the use of the place was almost indecently large, it was a mere drop in the ocean as far as paying for any serious repairs was concerned. Still, it was a start. And with the arrival yesterday of an American-financed film company, prepared to take over and use the whole of the mansion for at least a month, it now looked as though he could stop worrying about the house. For the time being, at least.
He’d also been successful in persuading the tax authorities to take, in part-settlement of death duties, two huge Old Master paintings. While they had been all that was left of a once large, well-known collection, he wasn’t prepared to spend too long regretting their departure. Especially since the dark, gloomy scenes of religious life had been highly depressing.
So, all in all, he hadn’t done too badly over these last three months, Ace assured himself. In fact...
His thoughts interrupted by the shrill, ringing tones of the telephone, he strode back to his desk and lifted the receiver.
Grimacing at the all too familiar sounds of his ex-wife’s breathless, child-like voice, he waited with grim patience to discover what she wanted. Because, of course, Martina wouldn’t dream of ringing him up—not unless she needed something. He could only hope that there was no problem with his daughter, Emily.
Looking back, it seemed to Ace as if their marriage had been doomed from the start. Originally captivated by the tall, exquisitely beautiful model, whose face had adorned so many magazine covers, it hadn’t been long before he’d discovered that there was very little in that lovely blonde head. And, to be fair, she had obviously been disappointed to find that she’d married a man who not only took his work seriously, but whom she clearly regarded as a boring workaholic.
Missing the world of the media and show business, it hadn’t been long before Martina had run away from home to live with a cockney pop star. She had also taken their small young daughter with her. Despite desperately missing his little girl, and being prepared to do just about anything to ensure his daughter’s happiness, Ace had bent over backwards to ensure that he remained on good, friendly terms with both his ex-wife and the new man in her life, Joe Tucker.
Surprisingly, it hadn’t proved to be too hard a task. The pop star had turned out to be a basically kind and thoroughly decent man. And Ace could only admire the fact that Joe—professionally known as Frank N. Stein, and lead singer of the Raving Monsters—had turned out to be far too shrewd and down-to-earth to make the mistake of marrying Martina.
Unfortunately, as time had gone by, it began to seem that neither the pop star or Ace’s ex-wife had any idea of how to cope with Emily, by now a thoroughly difficult fourteen-year-old adolescent. And Ace himself was also becoming increasingly worried about the young girl—not only going through a typically ‘rebellious’ phase of life, but also receiving little discipline from her butterflyminded mother.
‘OK...OK...’ he sighed, cutting across his ex-wife’s ramblings. ‘I’ve got the picture. And you can tell Emily that I’m thoroughly ashamed of her behaviour. What on earth possessed her to swear at her teacher? There’s absolutely no excuse for such bad manners. Quite frankly, she’s very lucky to find herself suspended from school for only a few weeks,’ he added grimly. ‘Yes...yes, of course...if you’re having to go abroad for a few days she’s more than welcome to stay here with me. In fact, she can probably make herself useful by keeping the film company off my back.’
And that last remark, he told himself ruefully, putting down the phone some minutes later, had been a bad mistake. Because as soon as his ex-wife had heard the magic words ‘film company’ he’d had the greatest difficulty in persuading her that while Emily was more than welcome Martina definitely was not.
On top of which, there had been a decidedly unwelcome over-friendly tone in his ex-wife’s voice. In fact, he told himself with a frown, if it didn’t sound too ridiculous, it had almost seemed as if she’d been seeking some form of reconciliation...
However, he had absolutely no intention of going back down that road. His daughter, Emily, might be badly in need of a stable home environment, but there was absolutely no way he could ever face remarrying her neurotic, shallow and empty-headed mother.
He’d had several glamorous girlfriends since his wife had walked out all those years ago. But either he’d grown quickly tired of their company or they, too, had become fed up with always coming a bad second to his working life. In fact, Ace had never seen any reason to get married again—basically on the principle of ‘once bitten...twice shy’. Not until his heart had been totally captured following that brief, quite extraordinary meeting with the bewitchingly lovely Eloise.
It was three long months since their passionate encounter, but he could still recall his delight at the miraculous way their two figures had seemed to fit so perfectly together, and the excitement of gently caressing her quivering, trembling flesh, which had almost seemed to melt beneath his fingers. If he closed his eyes, he could still smell the intoxicating, sweetly perfumed
