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‘The planners were quite sympathetic to a modern extension when they knew we were going to use traditional methods. The idea was not to replicate anything, just make something beautiful, and we employed local artisans. Of course, we borrowed a bit design wise. It is based roughly on a Victorian greenhouse, but we had modern techniques to draw on.’
‘It reminds me of one at Kew!’ she realised, spinning round to face him.
He nodded. ‘We used similar materials—glass, cast-iron and wood. The supporting arches inside are decorative steel. I’m glad you approve of my extension. My father thought I was insane.’
‘Didn’t he try and stop you?’
His expression hardened. ‘He couldn’t. My grandfather left Amphitrite to me. This was for him, to his memory—he was a great collector, and when it came to endangered plants and ferns he was an acknowledged expert.’ He looked up at the building, then back to Tilda and smiled. ‘Here, let me show you around. You might want to freshen up?’
Tilda raised a self-conscious hand to her hair and nodded. ‘Should we find Sam first?’
‘I’m sure he’ll turn up. The poor kid’s been cooped up all day. Let him—Of course, that’s up to you.’
‘It’s so massive,’ she said, casting an awed look up as they walked past a row of fountains to a massive, metal-banded double door.
‘Big rooms, but actually not that many of them. No endless long corridors, and once you get the hang of the layout it’s quite easy to navigate. The main living areas are mostly in, well, this white marble section, and the bedroom suites in the blue wing, a less grand local stone with no goddess connections. The kitchens and utility area are on the ground floor of the tower.’ He nodded to the square gold tower. ‘And my offices are on the top floor.’
‘You must have quite a view from up there. An eagle in your eyrie.’
‘Quite cruel of you to draw attention to my beak of a nose but, yes, it does have quite the view.’
Her glance automatically slid to the blade of a strong nose that bisected a face that was by any standards stunningly perfect.
‘I’d call it more characterful.’
His grin flashed as he invited her to walk ahead of him.
Her first impression as she stepped inside was of space...and light. Light shone off every surface, the palette of soft French grey and white that picked out the stone friezes on the walls soothing. The elaborate mosaic in the floor was a pattern of concentric circles, again pale with splashes of sea-blue and gold.
‘Large’, he’d said, and he wasn’t exaggerating. The massive square space’s cavernous proportions were accentuated by a high-vaulted ceiling with dark, curved elaborately carved beams. It was sparsely furnished, even though you could have held a ball in the room. Most of the furniture, which was basically a few beautiful chairs and tables, was set around the wall, apart from a few large eclectic items set in the stone niches spaced around the room, and some modern paintings on the wall that provided dramatic splashes of colour.
Sitting centrally was a round stone table with a large stone urn from which spilled a fragrant and natural-looking display of flowers and foliage. She could imagine the low, modern chandelier set above dramatically highlighting it when it got dark.
‘The friezes and the table were rescued from the original building—actually the pigsties.’
‘Your home is very beautiful,’ she murmured as she gazed around.
‘It is your home for the moment.’
She smiled, knowing she would always feel like a guest.
‘You look sad...’
She shook her head firmly. ‘No, just a little overwhelmed.’
‘Shall we save the tour until later? I’ll take you to your rooms. This way.’
She followed him through one of the arches. This space was narrower and forked at the end. Along one wall, windows looked out onto a courtyard similar to the one they had entered through.
‘So we take a right, and our suite is at the end.’ He turned to the left fork. ‘Sam’s down there, and I had the sitting room turned into a study. I thought it would be more useful.’
Tilda had not heard the ‘study’ part... She had not got past the‘our’.
‘We are sharing a room? Over my dead body.’
‘Dramatic,’ he drawled. ‘And, ultimately, a solution which really does not solve one hell of lot. I, however, have a much more practical idea...are you going to ask me what it is?’
She slung him a narrow-eyed look.
