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Her eyes flickered on. Date of birth. April twentieth. Hang on...
Why hadn’t he mentioned it? Right now she wasn’t going to think about that. Not when salvation was lying right in front of her.
‘The problem is, Vi, tomorrow’s Seb’s birthday and I’ve planned a surprise. And then it’s just a few days before the wedding and I don’t want a big night out before then. Besides,’ she added with an element of truth, ‘it wouldn’t feel right without Rose. We can do something afterwards.’
‘Wednesday night.’ Vi wasn’t giving up. ‘That gives you two days before the wedding and we can do something small. Just you, me and Mum and Skype Rose in. Films and face masks and manicures at your studio?’
That sounded blissful. Dangerous but blissful. ‘Okay. But low-key—and I won’t be drinking. I’m on a pre wedding detox. For my skin.’ That sounded plausible.
‘Done. I’ll source the girliest films and organise nibbles. Wholesome, vitamin filled, organic nibbles.’
‘Thanks, Vi.’ She meant it. An evening in with her mother and sister would be lovely. As long as she kept her guard up.
Meanwhile there was the small matter of Seb’s birthday and the surprise she was supposed to be organising. Once she had decided just what the surprise actually was.
* * *
Something was up.
Daisy was going around with a suppressed air of excitement as if she were holding a huge balloon inside that was going to burst any second.
It should have been annoying. Actually it was a little bit endearing.
Seb stretched out in his old leather wingchair, the vibrant red of the curtains catching his eye. Sherry had not received the Keep Out of My Library vibe and his sanctuary was looking as polished and fresh as the rest of the house. It was actually quite nice not to sneeze every time he pulled out a book although he had preferred the curtains unlaundered. They had been less glaringly bright then.
It wasn’t just Sherry. Daisy was quietly but firmly making changes as well: painting the kitchen, opening up the morning room and turning it into a cosy sitting room despite using little more than new curtains and cushions and replacing the rather macabre paintings of dead pheasants with some watercolour landscapes she had rescued from the attics. Although they still lived mainly in the kitchen or library, they had begun to spend their evenings in there reading, watching television or playing a long-running but vicious game of Monopoly.
It was almost homely.
But even as the castle began to take shape he was all too aware there still weren’t enough hours in the day. It would be much easier if he brought in a professional to manage the estate, leaving Seb to his teaching and research.
It wasn’t the Beresford way though. His grandfather had been very clear on that. A good owner managed his land, his people, his family and his home no matter what the sacrifice. And there had been many throughout the long centuries. There were times when Seb wondered if he would ever be able to return to Oxford and his real work.
Yet at the same time the pull of his ancestral home was so strong. He couldn’t carry on juggling both the estate and academia but making a final decision was unthinkable.
He looked up at the sound of a soft tap on the door, relieved to take his eyes off the blank laptop screen. He had barely achieved anything yet again, he noted wryly. Worries and thoughts circling round and round; even his research wasn’t distracting him the way it usually did. Money, Daisy, the baby, Hawksley, the book. In less than six months his whole life had turned upside down.
Although if he hadn’t allowed himself to be so distracted by his career maybe Hawksley at least wouldn’t be in such a state. He had his own culpability here.
The door opened and Daisy appeared bearing one of the massive silver tea trays. One mobile brow flew up as she looked at him. ‘That’s a terrifying scowl. Am I interrupting a crucial moment?’
‘You’re interrupting nothing but mental flailing and flagellation.’ He tried to smile. ‘Sorry if I scared you.’
‘Mental flagellation? Sounds painful. Anything I can help with?’ She carried the tray over to the table in the opposite corner and set it down with an audible thud.
‘Not unless you have a time machine.’
Seb regretted the words as soon as he uttered them; he didn’t need the flash of hurt to cross her face to show him how ill-judged they were. ‘Not you, not the baby.’ Not entirely. ‘Goodness knows, Daisy, out of all the crazy tangled mess my life has become the baby is the one bright spot. No, I was just thinking if I’d acted sooner then things would be a hell of a lot easier now.’
‘How so?’
