scowled and Lottie hastily qualified the statement. ‘None of you can. I mean, I mean…’
‘Now, now Charlotte. No harm in a bit of fun.’ Elizabeth had a twinkle in her eye and stiffness in her backbone that Lottie hadn’t seen in a while.
‘But, they’re going to…’ She wasn’t exactly sure what they were going to do, but if it involved horses and teams it wasn’t the type of thing you normally saw at a wedding reception. Lottie looked around wildly for inspiration. ‘Amanda won’t like it.’
She glanced out of the corner of her eye at her Uncle Dominic. It was what Dom thought about it all that she was more bothered about. She had been determined to impress him today, and not with her horsemanship skills.
They’d agreed that she would take the day-to-day management of the Tipping House Estate off his hands, so that he could spend more time with Amanda, and so that when the day came for the grandmother to step down (although it was a bit like waiting for the Queen to abdicate), she’d be ready to become the next Lady Stanthorpe.
The list of ‘things that needed taking care of’ was a bit like an Ikea catalogue: very large, very varied and very difficult to prioritise, but with the help of Dom she’d drawn up a plan of attack. And raising money to repair the roof was item number one. Mainly because, as Dom pointed out, if the roof gave way then the list would get considerably longer. And she really didn’t want that.
Her father’s wedding would showcase her organisational skills. Well, that had been the plan. And Rory was about to wreck it.
‘Nonsense, Amanda’s up for it.’ He gave her a hug.
‘And we have to get up early.’ She really had wanted to get up with a clear head so that she could go through the accounts her uncle had given her, and prove that not only was she an organisational whizz, but that she was the image of efficiency. And then he’d stop fussing and leave her to it.
And Rory had promised to do whatever was needed to help her out. In fact she had been hoping that he’d help her with one of the horses before breakfast, which he’d enjoy. Then he’d hardly notice when they moved onto looking at accounts, which he hated. Rory was the type of man who shoved bills in drawers and then conveniently forgot about them. Unless they were related to horse feed, of course.
With the wedding plans and all the little jobs she seemed to have taken on at Tipping House she had found it harder and harder to find time to ride with Rory. And she missed it.
‘Right,’ he smacked her bum, ‘that’s settled, let’s get the party started.’
‘But Rory, we do need to get up in the morn—’ It wasn’t that she didn’t want a bit of fun, it was just that when Rory had one of his ideas it never ended in an early night and sobriety.
‘This is going to be a wedding to remember, darling.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You’ve done a brilliant job.’ His lips moved down to her mouth. ‘Have I told you how gorgeous you look in that tight dress? I can’t wait to rip it off. Right, back in a bit.’
Seeing Todd again had been a nasty shock to Lottie’s system. One of the trickier aspects was that she couldn’t remember for the life of her exactly what she’d told Rory about the brief hiatus in their relationship, when she’d set off on her world tour to discover herself. And instead discovered Todd. Which had been quite a nice distraction until the police had turned up, of course.
‘Get me another drink, Charlotte dear, and do stop looking like a wet weekend. It’s your father’s wedding day, well his party, at least. And there’s no point in moping over that man. I’m not surprised he abandoned you, you’re not exactly his type, are you?’ Lottie took the empty glass that Elizabeth was pressing into her hand without thinking. ‘He’s very pretty, but totally irresponsible, I’d say from the look of him.’ She stared totally unselfconsciously at Todd. ‘How many wives did the man have?’
‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him, Gran?’
‘I might do that. Somebody needs to stop him pawing young Tabatha. No idea of how to behave. No wonder the Spanish deported him.’
Lottie decided not to point out the obvious, that it was actually Tab who was doing the pawing, and that she was plenty old enough to look after herself these days.
‘Chop, chop dear. And do make sure it’s a double gin, or shall I ask Roger to get it?’
‘You know very well his name’s Rory.’
Rory was oblivious to the conversation. After tethering the horses to the pegs that held the marquee in place (which seemed a bit of a dodgy idea to Lottie), he was getting down to the serious business of planning the competition (on the previously pristine white tablecloth) and drinking. Which left Lottie with the job of getting another drink for her gran and wondering what the hell Todd was doing in Cheshire, well even in the UK, at all. Obviously they didn’t have long prison sentences for bigamy, well not long enough, or he’d just charmed his way out early.
***
Billy Brinkley was used to competing at the Olympia Horse Show, which always took place indoors and was guaranteed to be big, noisy and involve fancy dress and night-time events. And so were his horses. At the sight of strobing disco lights (somebody’s vain attempt to keep the party on track) his favourite bay stallion pricked his ears and got ready to party.
Perched bareback on top of his horse, still in his wedding finery (but minus the top hat), Billy couldn’t believe his luck. Despite being determined to make an honest woman of Victoria ‘Tiggy’ Stafford, the word ‘wedding’ had initially made his hands clammier than they’d ever been when he’d been about to represent his country at the Olympic Games. But Tiggy knew him so well and her suggestion to quietly marry in advance with the minimum of fuss so they could enjoy the occasion, followed by this unexpected competition, made it the perfect day. He winked at Tiggy, who he really did adore, then glanced back at Rory, gathering his reins up as he did so. ‘Keep the flowers on my right, champagne bottles to the left, eh?’
Rory gave the thumbs-up then grinned as his chestnut mare, Flash, who stoically refused to mature and settle, but retained the spirit she’d shown as a yearling, reacted in her normal aghast manner when a rider waved their hands about unexpectedly. She kicked out backwards, her heels narrowly missing the top tier of the wedding cake, before throwing in a buck and squeal for good measure. Todd visibly paled beneath his perma-tan. In fact, from where Lottie was standing he looking more a translucent shade of green than brown.
‘Here.’ Tab passed him a bottle of whiskey, her fingers touching his for a second longer than was actually necessary, as far as Lottie could tell.
The course that Rory had designed was interesting, to say the least. It involved jumping over several tables still laden with glasses and plates, before exiting the marque and re-entering it at the back. The horse and rider then had to clear a row of chairs and a table, followed by the final hurdle, which was the stand that now held the one remaining layer of wedding cake. A swift left turn then took the rider along the front of the bar, where the challenge was to grab a champagne bottle and take a swig before exiting the marquee for the final time.
Rory had insisted that Todd ride Merlin, as they’d bonded. And to be fair, he was the only horse that the poor man had a chance of sticking on.
‘Go Billy.’ Rory waved a piece of the bunting, which acted as a starting flag. Flash half-reared as the scrap of cloth whizzed
