Markham tall?’
Jarrett’s grin immediately turned into a scowl. ‘I’ve no idea. When I saw her she was crouching to take a photograph. Anyway, I’ve got to get on. I’ll bring the dog back to you around lunchtime, shall I?’
‘Are you angling for a lunch invitation?’
‘Throw a slice of ham between a couple of slices of bread, make me a cup of tea and I won’t dash off. I’ll stay and have a chat with you.’
‘The day I “throw” a slice of ham between two slices of bread and call it lunch, I’ll know I’ve seriously lost the plot!’
Reflecting on some of the wonderful meals his sister had made for him long before she’d gone to catering college and eventually become head chef for one of the high-end restaurants in the west end of London, Jarrett’s feelings towards Beth palpably softened. ‘You’re a true culinary genius, sweetheart, and believe me—both my stomach and my palate are grateful for it. I’ll see your around one o’clock, shall I?’
‘And don’t forget to bring Dylan with you, will you?’
‘As if I’d forget … Every time I turn round he’s either doing his best to enslave me with those huge seal-pup eyes of his or trip me over!’
As she drew back the ancient tapestry drapes, the rain of dust made Sophia cough violently. She stepped back just in time as the heavy brass curtain rail clattered heavily down onto the dark wooden floor.
‘Of all the stupid things to do …’ she muttered.
Knowing she’d had a lucky escape, she shook her head, planted her hands on her hips and smiled ruefully. For a while she just stood, watching the dust motes that jumped up from the floor swirl madly in the beam of sunlight that arrowed in through the window. If she’d longed for a project to help quell the misery and despair of the past then she’d found one right enough. It was going to take a good deal of hard toil, sweat and probably tears too to make this house anywhere near comfortable enough to enjoy living in. But she hardly had cause for complaint. Not when her eccentric Great-Aunt Mary had bequeathed her such an incredible gift.
Who would have guessed that a woman who had barely even acknowledged her as a child except to frown down at her through her half-moon glasses would turn out to be her guardian angel and fairy godmother all rolled into one?
‘Aunt Mary dislikes most of her family … the adults at any rate,’ Sophia’s dad had told her once, even as his merry green eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘She doesn’t believe that we deserve to count her as a relative. We’re a great disappointment to her, I’m sure. When she goes she’ll leave this gothic monstrosity of a house to some cat or dog charity … just wait and see!’
Well … her eccentric great-aunt hadn’t bequeathed High Ridge Hall to an animal charity. She’d left it to Sophia instead.
The day before she’d been due to leave the home that she had been forced to sell she’d had a phone call from a solicitor’s office in London. They had spent months trying to track her down, to tell her that she was the sole beneficiary in her great-aunt’s will. Sophia had been appalled—she hadn’t even heard that she’d died. Since her dad had passed away she’d lost touch with practically everyone but her brother David, and she saw him infrequently enough. In a way she was glad. Since her husband’s destructive behaviour and alcoholism had grown even worse, she’d become too ashamed to let family or friends see how low she had sunk. To learn that not only had she been left High Ridge Hall but a small amount of money too had been overwhelming.
Dropping down into the one remaining antique chair in the living room that hadn’t yet been sold to help meet her deceased husband’s mountain of debt, Sophia had cried hard with gratitude and relief at her eleventh-hour reprieve. If her great-aunt hadn’t left her beautiful old house to her even contemplating the alternative living arrangements insisted upon by her bullying father-in-law would have been too grim to bear …
Her little son ran in from the kitchen, his dark eyes round as saucers when he saw the dislodged brass rail and the pile of old curtains that half smothered it. ‘What happened, Mummy? I heard the loudest bang.’
‘The curtain rail fell down. These walls are very old, Charlie. The plaster is crumbling like powder. It’s going to take a lot of work to make this room nice again … The whole house is in need of some major attention to make it fit to live in. I’m only grateful that your uncle David was able to take some time off to get a couple of the rooms ready for us before we moved in—otherwise we would have had to camp out in the garden in a tent!’
Charlie was already losing interest in the dramatic incident that had caused him to rush in from the kitchen. Instead he was staring down at the colourful toy he’d carried into the room with him, restlessly turning it over and over between his fingers, as if itching to employ it in some way.
‘Can I go out to the garden to play? I want to make a fort. I promise I won’t go near the pond.’
‘All right, then. As long as you keep in full view of these windows so that I can see you. Promise?’
He grinned, showing a couple of gaps where he’d lost his baby teeth.
Sophia’s heart squeezed. ‘Give me a hug and a kiss first.’
‘You’re always hugging and kissing me.’
‘I know, but I can’t help it!’ Seizing her young son by the waist, she whirled him round and round until he shrieked with laughter.
‘Let me go!’ he begged. ‘You’re making me dizzy!’
When he’d got his bearings again, he threw his mother a disarming grin and rushed out of the house into the wild forest of a garden—the garden that was already keeping Sophia awake at night, as she planned how she was going to make it beautiful again and restore it to the fairytale garden of her childhood.
As she bent down to retrieve the curtains and the rail, out of the blue an image stole into her mind of the physically arresting man who had stopped to say hello the other day while she’d been taking photographs of wildflowers for her portfolio. His eyes had been electrifyingly blue, yet his hair was a thick, curling cap of ebony silk. A small flare of heat imploded inside her. Despite her attraction to him Sophia had been nervous. What if her father-in-law had sent him to find her … to force her to return to the neighbourhood where she had lived with her late husband?
God knew the man had the kind of strong, intimidating physique that could easily overwhelm her if he tried. She inhaled a long steadying breath. Her worst fears thankfully hadn’t come true, but she was still uneasy.
Jarrett Gaskill … what kind of a name was that?
Even if the man had never heard of her illustrious father-in-law, his name sounded a little too highbrow and pompous for her taste. No doubt he was some ambitious city type who kept a second home here in the country for weekends where he could entertain his London friends and play Lord of the Manor.
The thought brought a briefly cynical smile to her lips, before making her frown. Remembering his mellifluous tones, she’d thought he’d sounded sincere enough. Perhaps it was wrong of her to so judge him so quickly. But what did she know of sincere men when she’d been married to the biggest liar and cheat in the country? Tom Abingdon—the man she’d so stupidly rushed headlong into marriage with at eighteen against all advice—had
