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Max cupped his chin and glanced up and to the left, frowning. It was as if he’d been practising expressions at drama club, and this one was entitled ‘recalling a piece of information from the past of utmost importance’.
‘Younger than you,’ he continued. ‘Maybe late twenties?’
Bugger off! I only turned thirty last summer! Estelle tried to keep calm, but every one of Max’s words made her hackles rise. He wouldn’t have known James made a play for Summer, her youngest sister, another blonde, however his words described a woman who was the physical opposite of Estelle.
‘She’s always dressed in pencil skirts and heels,’ Max said, as if he were in court and it was imperative he remembered every detail. ‘Her make-up—’
‘I get the picture. Can we get on with setting up my laptop now?’
Max’s eyes lit up, as if he knew he’d found another of her weak spots. ‘Yes, Lady—Estelle…’
Estelle stared out of the window at the formal gardens as Max fiddled with her computer. The winter solstice had been and gone, but the land was still sleeping under a blanket of frost and the unbroken expanse of clouds had turned everything into a palette of greys.
Just like my mood...
But isn’t this what you wanted? The little voice in her head sounded exactly like Eveline. To have more reasons to dislike James?
Yes, but he smells so good. It’s like the man equivalent of chocolate, Chelsea buns and horses.
He smells of horses?
Course he doesn’t! Jesus. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.
You’re not. I’m you.
Shut up.
Estelle forced her gaze back to her laptop. She used to wholly despise James, but the percentage of her dislike had slipped from one hundred down to ninety-seven, which was dangerously low. She needed to stop him wearing whatever it was that made him smell like an attractive human, and force him to use a cologne that revealed his true nature.
Her toes curled as she relived the sensations of him sitting so close to her—the heat, the scent. The attraction was clearly sorcery on his part. Re-crossing her ankles, one foot made a supposedly magical sound and she swallowed a grin. When Willow had asked what she wanted for Christmas, Estelle said she wanted the most garishly offensive slippers her sister could find.
James clearly hated them, but the noises they produced each time she took a step also irritated the hell out of her. Still, it wouldn’t be for long. She was giving it a week before he begged her to work from home.
She pushed her chair back. ‘I need the loo. Can you just crack on without me?’
Max nodded. ‘Sure.’
Outside, the corridor was empty. Estelle passed by the bathroom, straight to the entrance hall and the door through to the main house.
Still locked.
She wasn’t naturally nosy, but the masochistic part of her needed to know who the woman was that had kissed James.
Don’t go there! You don’t like him, remember?
Turning around and going to the bathroom, she avoided her reflection in the mirrors, instead focusing her attention on a wicker basket filled with toiletries. They were high-end, mostly organic, and had never been used before. Had the ‘beautiful blonde’ selected them? Estelle sighed. If she had, then the woman could also add ‘has impeccable taste’ to her long list of attributes.
Going through the products, she found a small glass bottle without a label. It was intricately cut crystal, with the letter ‘E’ incorporated into the design. Her heart fluttered. Was the ‘E’ for Estelle?
Pulling off the cap, she held it to her nose.
Nothing.
She sprayed it into the air and wafted her hand through the fine mist. Suddenly, every nerve ending in her nose and brain lit up, as if the perfume was the perfect key to activating the essence of her. She sniffed again, her nostrils flaring to take in more of the scent. It was earthy and spicy but at the same time utterly feminine, with light floral overtones.
Depressing the top twice more, she moved through the spray. An image came to her of riding at dawn through fields of flowers, the air holding the scent of early morning dew and damp earth, but also the murmurs of brightly coloured petals as they woke up and reached towards the rising sun. It contained the spice of cedar and the warmth of beeswax, with bold base notes and delicate top ones.
Breathing it in, the corners of her eyes prickled with emotion. The perfume felt like the truest representation of her, in all her complexity. Estelle knew she rubbed people up the wrong way, but the scent seemed to recognise that under her ballsy exterior, she could be just as nurturing as Willow, as sweet as Eveline, and as sunny as Libby. She’d never worn perfume before, but this seemed to become effortlessly part of her, something that would complement and amplify both her and the smells she loved from her daily life.
