St Andrews last year. And Dad’s grooming me to run the estate.’
‘Oh? And how’s that going?’
He scowled. ‘The boiler won’t last through the winter. As it is, we can see our breath at dinner. And when it rains, it takes every pot, bowl, and soup tureen we’ve got to catch all the leaks. The estimate to fix the roof is £18,000. The floorboards in the library are rotting, and the crumbling plasterwork in the drawing room ceiling can only be restored by an expert—’
‘Shit,’ Dominic muttered.
‘–that’s why dad wants me to marry Bibi. She’s very rich.’ He said this last with scorn, as if being rich were a disease, something to be avoided at all costs.
‘Ah yes, I met her in the garden at Mansfield this afternoon.’ Dominic didn’t elaborate on the circumstances of their meeting; he had no desire to exchange further blows with his brother. ‘Mum says you don’t want to marry her.’
‘No, I don’t.’ Liam knocked back the rest of his whisky. ‘I have someone else in mind altogether.’ He thought of Julia Allchurch, so beautiful and well bred, and felt a familiar, painful squeeze of his heart.
Too bad she didn’t return his feelings.
Liam set his glass down on the coffee table. ‘Look, why don’t you marry Bibi? It’s the perfect solution. You’ll get a rich wife, Mansfield Hall can stay in the family, and I’ll get dad off my back.’
‘Sorry, but I have a girlfriend already, mate. Gemma’s the only one for me. I’ve had my fill of high-maintenance birds. Besides, I’ve dosh enough of my own to save Mansfield. That’s why I came back – to offer my finances to fix the place up. So there’s really no need for either of us to marry Bibi.’
Liam stood up. ‘Good luck. Dad will throw your offer straight back in your face. Mansfield might be falling down around his ears, but he has his pride.’
‘Pride won’t pay the bills, will it? I’ll talk him round. I can be quite persuasive.’
Liam’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t know what happened between you two, but whatever it was…he hasn’t forgotten.’ He paused. ‘If you want my advice, you’ll forget about trying to buy our father’s forgiveness, and go straight back to London as fast as that fancy car of yours will take you.’
‘I’m not feeling the love, brother.’ Dominic stood as well. ‘My issue’s with him, not you.’
Liam shrugged. ‘Either way, he doesn’t need your help – or your money. And don’t think you’ll get your greedy mitts on Mansfield Hall…because you won’t. You gave all of that up when you walked away.’
And with that, Liam stalked to the door, and slammed out of the room.
Holly James opened the cartons of Chinese takeaway and took down plates from the cupboard. As she dumped the Szechuan green beans, brown rice, and crispy beef into bowls and yanked the silverware drawer open in search of serving spoons, she wondered if there was any diet soda in Alex’s fridge.
But a quick hunt unearthed only a half-open bottle of flat champagne and two bottles of stout. Good thing she’d ordered a couple of bottles of ginger beer along with their meals.
‘Dinner’s ready,’ she called out. The sound of explosions and gun blasts in the sitting room stopped abruptly as Alex switched off the TV and wandered, barefoot, into the kitchen.
‘Yen Ho’s,’ he said as he picked up a spring roll and bit into it, ‘or Dim Sum Palace?’
‘Neither. It’s Buddha Garden.’
As Alex sat down and dished out rice and crispy beef, he glanced over at Holly. ‘Remember when we were dating, and you actually used to cook for me?’
‘Remember when we were dating, and you actually used to spend time with me?’ she shot back. ‘We’d spend an entire evening together, just the two of us.’ She pushed some green beans and a tiny bit of rice onto her plate. ‘Imagine that.’
‘We spend time together,’ Alex said, defensive. ‘In fact, we could’ve spent Friday evening together at the club, but you begged off at the last minute. Again. That’s hardly my fault.’
‘I had a long day, Alex. I was tired. And I didn’t feel like listening to you and your friends drone on about due diligence and compos mentis, okay?’
‘On the contrary, I do understand. Because that’s exactly the way I feel about spending time around your friends.’ He speared a piece of crispy beef and thrust it in his mouth.
‘What’s wrong with my friends?’ Holly demanded. ‘They’re fun. Certainly more so than yours.’
‘Fun?’ Alex laid his fork aside and raised his brow. ‘Well, if you consider conversations about BB Cream and shooties and Gok Wan to be the apex of intelligent discussion, then yes, your fashion friends are quite scintillating.’
She dropped her own fork with a clink and glared at him. ‘Fashion is my life.’
‘And the law is mine,’ he returned tightly. ‘I’m sorry if you find my interests – and my friends – so tedious.’
Holly reined in her temper. ‘It’s not that I don’t like them, Alex. I do. Well enough,’ she amended. ‘But your friends and I have nothing in common. We’re chalk and cheese.’ She took a sip of her ginger beer. ‘And then there’s Camilla.’
‘What about her? She’s made every effort to be friendly.’
Holly said carefully, ‘I’m sure she has. But when you and she start talking about constituents and surgeries and by-elections, I feel completely left out. And I hate it.’
‘Oh.’ Alex was taken aback. ‘I hadn’t realized. I suppose it is a bit dull for you. All right – I promise to curb the legal talk when you’re around, fair enough?’
‘Thanks. More rice?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll skip the Groucho on Friday, and we’ll go out to dinner instead. Just the two of us, like we used to do.’
‘I’d love that.’
‘You decide where you’d like to go, and I’ll make the arrangements,’ he promised, then added, ‘On one condition.’
Holly paused, a forkful of rice halfway to her mouth. ‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘No fashion talk allowed,’ he said firmly. ‘Not a word about Gok Wan, or quilted handbags, or platform sneakers.’
‘I promise,’ Holly said. ‘Oh, Alex – time alone is exactly what we need.’ She leaned forward and took his hand. ‘I’ve missed you. I’ve missed us.’
He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘And I’ve missed you.’ He kissed the back of her palm and released her hand, then reached for his ginger beer and lifted it up. ‘Here’s to an entire evening without a single mention of Jil Sander.’
‘Or the PM,’ Holly added, lifting her own bottle and clinking
