to contemplating something of a more permanent nature with a woman who’d actually appeared to fit the bill.
His jaw clenched and he swung back to his computer, blanking out his memories of the golden-haired, green-eyed witch who had made him take his eye off the ball. There was no point in resurrecting the past. It was over and done with. Once he had sent the courier delivering the ring on his way back down to London, his chapter with Rosalind would be at an end and life, as always, would carry on.
On that note, he did what he did best—buried himself in work—and, within ten minutes, thoughts of the past were where they should be: locked away and incapable of jumping out at him, at least for the moment.
* * *
Abigail Christie was running late. The driver, a trusted employee of Vanessa—Abigail’s boss, who had saved her, in a manner of speaking, and who owned the exquisite, upmarket jeweller’s from which Lady Rosalind Duval had purchased the diamond—had been under strict instructions to make it to Greyling Manor no later than five, under penalty of death. Unfortunately, those instructions had allowed no leeway for the twin assault of vile weather and the accompanying stop-start traffic. They had left an overcast London bang on time but had run into problems the second they had hit Oxford and, from there on, it had been a frustrating race against the clock.
Abigail had not been able to contact Lady Rosalind to advise her of the delay because she hadn’t been picking up.
The only silver lining was the fact that, although they were now over two hours behind schedule, they had finally left most of the traffic behind and, whilst the country lanes leading to Greyling Manor might be dark, twisty and frankly treacherous given the weather conditions, their destination was at last within touching distance.
She would thrust the ring at Lady Rosalind, get her signature as fast as she could and leave without further ado.
Doubtless, Rosalind Duval would be waiting with bated breath for them to arrive and would be as keen to see the back of them as they would be to see the back of Greyling Manor, which was buried deep in the heart of the Cotswolds.
No sticking around to gather themselves before embarking on the return journey. No polite conversation with the lord of the manor and no having to contend with whatever arrogant, Hooray Henry types had gathered in preparation for tomorrow’s Big Reveal and would want to have a preview of the magnificent engagement ring. Not now that they were running so late. And that afforded Abigail a great deal of relief because the prospect of dipping her toes back into the waters of that rarefied world of the super-rich was something that made her feel physically sick.
It had revived all the worst memories she had of just how unscrupulous the people who inhabited that world could be. She had had her disastrous brush with how the other half lived and she was in no hurry for a return visit.
Indeed, she had done her best to get out of delivering this ring, not least because she hadn’t handled the sale. She had only seen Rosalind in passing, but the timing had been bad for Vanessa and typical of a young, rich woman who snapped her fingers and expected all her wishes to be met instantly, Rosalind had set a date for the delivery and had refused to budge.
And there were other reasons why Abigail intended to tell Hal, the driver, to keep the engine running while she flew in, did what was necessary and flew back out.
For the fourth time in under an hour, she checked her phone for any communication from her friend Claire, but a reliable network service had died pretty much as soon as they had hit the first winding country lane and it hadn’t got any better the deeper into the heart of the Cotswolds they had travelled.
With a sigh of frustration, Abigail leant back and watched the dark scenery drift past her. There was something eerie about the veil of snow falling steadily into the inky-black landscape, settling over the open fields. She was accustomed to light pollution and the constant sounds of a city. Out here, she felt as though she could have been on another planet, and she didn’t like that because it made her think of Sam, her ten-month-old son back in London, and the fact that he would be fast asleep by the time she made it back to her house, even if the turnaround here was faster than the speed of light.
And then, hard on the heels of that, she started to think about the weather, started to wonder whether she was imagining it or whether the snow was getting thicker. It was so hard to tell in the darkness. What if these little lanes became impassable? Right now, they seemed fine, but what if she couldn’t make it back to London? She would have to find a bed and breakfast somewhere, and that would entail an overnight stay, and she had never spent a night away from Sam. She couldn’t imagine not waking up in the morning to the sound of his gurgling and little complaining cries that went on until she scooped him up for his morning bottle.
Lost in thought, she surfaced when the vehicle slowed, turned through impressive wrought-iron gates and headed up a long, tree-lined drive that was lit by a series of lanterns. It was beautifully romantic and it was only as they approached the Georgian mansion that she felt the first stirrings of unease.
The place looked deserted, aside from a couple of cars in the circular courtyard. Most of the house was in darkness and she made Hal double check to make sure he had got the address right.
‘You’d better come in with me,’ she said dubiously and Hal, killing the engine, turned round and looked at her, his cheerful face serious.
‘If this is an engagement party,’ he said in his usual direct fashion, ‘then I’ll eat my hat.’ He waved the woollen hat lying on the seat next to him and grinned. ‘I’ve seen more life in a graveyard.’
‘Don’t say that. I have a ring to deliver. Vanessa will be distraught if for some reason the sale falls through.’
‘It won’t, love.’ He smiled kindly at her. ‘You’ll probably find that the action will kick off tomorrow. That’s when the party’s due to take place, isn’t it? The happy couple are probably just relaxing and enjoying some peace before the big day ahead.’
Ten minutes later, Abigail discovered that that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
* * *
Leandro had thoroughly cleared his head of the catastrophic mess that had awaited him when he had arrived back from New York. That was the joy of work. It put everything into perspective. It was a world in which everything was clear cut and everything had a solution. Now, as Julie popped her head round the door to inform him that the last link in the ‘belly up’ chain had arrived, bearing the ill-fated ring, Leandro was obliged to face the final annoying hurdle in putting this matter to rest.
He was, fortunately, in a better frame of mind. Rosalind had shouted and screamed, furious that for the first time in her life someone had scuppered her plans. She had threatened social exclusion, at which point Leandro had made the mistake of laughing, and she had been apoplectic when he had suggested that she was far better off without him, because he simply didn’t have the reserves of energy or patience to give her the sort of attention she required. Nor, he had added, had he the slightest interest in having children. In fact, he could think of nothing worse. So the pitter-patter of tiny feet would have remained an unfulfilled ambition.
Rosalind had got the worst out of her system and he felt that, when she eventually descended from her rage, she would find blessed relief in gossiping about him behind his back and painting whatever picture it took for her to emerge smelling of roses.
For his part, burying himself in work had put everything in perspective.
He had no idea what had driven him to
