‘What?’
‘Be careful, yeah?’
‘Of course I will. You don’t mind?’ Her toes curled. It was exactly the wrong thing to have asked him. To discover if, and how much, he really cared about whom she saw.
‘Why would I mind?’ His eyes narrowed, and he shrugged. ‘It’s a good thing, right? Moving on.’
Chapter Fourteen
It’s not a date, Cassie muttered crossly for about the tenth time. But it didn’t feel that way as she got ready in her room on Friday night, a week after the launch. Anticipation made her clumsy and she’d had to apply eyeliner a second time when she messed up the first. She checked her image in the full-length mirror, satisfied with the woman staring back at her.
Without the kids in the house, still at Home Farm, her strappy nude heels tapping on the stone staircase seemed to echo in the unfamiliar silence.
She opened the sitting room door, and when she saw Raf, she knew she’d got it exactly right. Her plum dress was sleeveless, a high neck rising above a pleated chiffon bodice, the elegant simplicity of the top flowing into a layered asymmetrical skirt in lighter shades of mauve and heather. It was sophisticated and sexy, and a slim bangle in platinum around her wrist and her twenty-first birthday necklace were the only accessories she wore. She touched her wedding ring finger, still empty and strange. She was slowly getting used to its absence, aware it was another step in putting her marriage and not her memories behind her.
‘You look incredible,’ he murmured as he crossed the room. In her heels, he had only to lower his head to place his mouth against her temple.
‘So do you,’ she whispered. There was no point in pretending. She hadn’t often seen him dressed so formally, more used to the casual, everyday man who lived in shorts and jeans, or cycling kit. His suit was burgundy with a tailored white shirt underneath, and she loved that he’d chosen black Oxfords and gone for a classic look. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, giving a tantalising glimpse of the angel tattoo beneath and suggesting a playful contrast to the formality of his clothes.
She drew her phone from her bag, needing something to do. ‘Is the car here? I thought I saw lights on the drive.’
‘Yeah, I just got a text. Shall we?’ Raf held out an arm, and she slid hers into the crook at his elbow. ‘Did the kids get back to Pippa’s okay?’
‘Yes, she messaged to say she was feeding them, and she’d drop them back when we get home. We shouldn’t be late,’ Cassie continued blithely. ‘It’s only a work dinner.’
But it didn’t feel that way when they emerged into the still-warm evening, birdsong clear and cheerful in the trees opposite the house. A black car was waiting, and the driver got out, holding open the back door. She thanked him as she slid onto cool, cream leather seats. Raf followed, and as the door was shut, she couldn’t have explained why she suddenly felt so enclosed, so alone with him. Even though they only spoke about ordinary things, he felt so present at her side, the atmosphere charged with everything she couldn’t share.
The hotel was only eighteen miles away, but meandering country lanes meant it was a forty-minute drive through the remarkable landscape she had come to love. Eventually the car turned between stone gateposts onto an immaculate drive lined with stately lime trees. The driver was quickly out to open the door and Raf took her hand as she emerged, letting go once she was beside him. He thanked the older man and arranged to text when they were ready to return home.
Painted in a creamy off white, the hotel had four deep sash windows either side of a portico and front door, appearing more intimate and snug than Cassie had expected from online images. Tall stone pots either side of the door were filled with agapanthus flowering midnight blue, and it was the only splash of colour beyond the lawns and mature evergreen shrubs.
‘Did I mention they have their own charcuterie on site?’ She looked up and his lips pursed in a wry smile. She quivered when he placed his hand on her back as they made for the entrance.
‘I don’t think you did, no. I have to confess, the finer details of what the hotel offers aren’t at the forefront of my mind right now.’
‘Well, they should be,’ she told him sternly, trying not to fall into the tease he was suggesting, utterly aware of his palm, every single finger, on her chiffon dress, the skirt fluttering around her legs. ‘It’s all about the details.’
The front door opened and a middle-aged woman in a navy suit emerged to greet them, alongside a younger man. Cassie recognised her as the managing director with whom she had communicated online, and she sensed Raf slipping effortlessly into his more public self as the introductions were made and the woman’s face lit up with the usual awe and interest. Sasha was the maître d’hôtel, she explained, and he and his team would be looking after them this evening.
Inside, glasses of vintage champagne were offered and Cassie sipped hers slowly. She didn’t want to be tipsy before they’d even sat down. She already knew that the hotel had once been a country home for a wealthy industrialist family and it had retained that same sense of intimacy and comfort, contemporary design in creams, greys and accents of colour sitting well alongside period features. Henry, the chef patron, appeared in his whites, no doubt alerted to their arrival. He kissed her on both cheeks before shaking Raf’s hand vigorously, exclaiming his delight that they were here and interested in partnering with his hotel. A small, neat man in his mid-forties, Cassie liked him at once. Henry had a long career in fine dining and a reputation for innovation and elegance. He assured them of his every attention and promised that he was leaving them in the capable hands of his team and hoped they would have a wonderful evening.
‘We thought you might prefer the seclusion of our private dining room,’ Henry said. ‘It was the original library and has a beautiful view of the walled garden. It lends itself perfectly to hosting intimate events, and we like to think it offers an atmosphere of refined elegance and exceptional service for guests wishing to elevate their experience.’
Raf thanked Henry, and although she was relieved at not having to sit opposite him and make conversation in front of other guests, Cassie wasn’t sure how she felt about their eating alone. Henry disappeared, and Sasha led them along a corridor past the dining room on the left. Cassie noticed a few guests gaping at Raf and pretending not to, presumably trying to work out if it really was him, or he was just familiar in some way. Thankfully there were no raised phones, and she glimpsed a sweep of perfect lawn leading to a small lake surrounded by ancient trees and beautifully planted borders.
Sasha moved aside to let them enter once he’d opened a door, a waiter following with their champagne. Cassie found herself in a panelled room, its subtle lighting and darker tones immediately suggesting that intimacy Henry had mentioned. The artwork was exquisite, and she made a note to mention it to Pippa, who might have something to offer in the future. The walled garden beyond the windows was a dazzling and exuberant display of mid-summer colours, forms and textures, and she recognised a professional hand at work. Sasha explained that the kitchen garden was extensive and they grew much of the hotel’s produce in the grounds. A gleaming circular table which would sit twelve with ease had been moved aside, and Sasha pointed to a much smaller one to the right of a stone fireplace, beautifully set for two in the curve of the bay window.
Cassie murmured her thanks as he pulled out her chair. She sat down, aware of him repeating the gesture with Raf opposite. Napkins were flared, champagne glasses topped up and menus offered, and she found it impossible to meet Raf’s gaze once they were alone, the room seeming to echo with all the words she couldn’t say.
‘So what do you think?’ she asked, jumping into the silence. ‘Everything I’ve seen so far suggests the hotel would be perfect for the distillery and would elevate your brand beyond the pub.’ She removed her phone from her bag and took a couple of photos so she could refer back later on.
‘I agree. I really like it.’ He tilted his champagne glass towards her. ‘You obviously impressed them enough to pull out all the stops.’
‘We both know that’s down to you, Raf. I’m just the messenger.’
The door opened to reveal their waiter bearing canapés, and Cassie almost moaned when she tasted tiny scraps of sourdough served with a smoked tomato emulsion and plump green olives. Suddenly she was starving after skipping lunch, and the canapés swiftly vanished as they both tucked in.
‘Can’t wait to see what’s next if that’s what they can do with bread.’
