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‘Hi?’
‘Hello, Rosie. It’s Angus here. Just checking you are still agreeable to the thirty-first of October for the sale of the lodge? We should be exchanging contract in a couple of weeks. Brian Dixon is in the process of lining up his investmentsto be liquidated the week before, so we’ll exchange when he has his ten per cent deposit available. His lawyer just wants confirmation that it’s still a definite date.’
‘Yes, Angus, you can agree that. I’m planning to vacate on the thirty-first. I’ve booked my flight tickets back to New York for that day. It’s my father’s birthday on November fourth – his seventieth – I’m arranging a surprise party so it all slots neatly into my schedule. I’ll make sure the cottage is cleared of all personal possessions, too. Thank you for all your help, Angus. I’m sorry it has taken so long; you must be fed up with my procrastinations.’
‘Not at all, Rosie. It has afforded me the time to get to know you better. And as soon as Willowbrook Lodge is sold, I’ll be able to tie up your aunt’s estate accounts. So, as you intend to stay until the end of the month, would you be interested in accompanying me to the local Law Society Ball next Saturday?’
‘Oh,’ Rosie was taken aback at the unexpected invitation. Her mind flicked back to Susan’s words of wisdom. ‘I don’t know, Angus.’
‘Come on. I thought all girls loved to wear ball gowns. You can wear your stilettos! I know you’ll look spectacular.’
‘Okay, thank you, Angus. I’d be delighted.’ God knows, she needed some fun.
‘Great. I’ll pick you up at six – it’s a bit of a journey down to Gloucester.’
As she returned her phone to the table, she panicked. What did she have to wear to a Law Society Ball? Argh, she wished Lauren was there for one of their rainy afternoons of vintage foraging.
***
Saturday, October thirteenth: Rosie perched in Angus’s pristine Mercedes as it sliced its way through the countryside towards the cathedral city of Gloucester. She loved the caress of her aunt’s vintage Dior cream lace cocktail dress against her skin in place of her ubiquitous jeans, woollen sweater and old Barbour jacket. She’d even forced her feet into the matching pair of Massaro sling backs she’d come across in her aunt’s wardrobe, which sported the same flowered-lace pattern. The opportunity to get dressed up had reminded her how much she had enjoyed attending corporate dinners and balls in the past.
The evening turned out to be a fabulous success. Angus’s colleagues and friends from the cricket club and their wives and partners were sparkling company, and she relaxed in the throng of corporate bonhomie, enjoying the challenge of intellectually stimulating conversation on the economy, the political situation in their respective countries, and the future of the legal profession, offering her own insights from her experiences across the Pond.
Angus was a solicitous date and she felt cared for and treated like a woman. There was only one thing that had marred the evening as they were organising the table’s sweepstake on how long the top-table speeches would go on for. She had made a throwaway comment on how a gathering of lawyers could be so clandestine about their bets when she had watched two of them curl their forearms around their tiny slice of parchment to hide their prediction from prying eyes. Angus had fixed his steely eyes on hers and snapped back like a whip that if they were talking about secretive behaviour, she should ask her “friend” Charlie about his undercover exploits. She had no idea what he had meant and had been unable to press the matter as the formal speeches had started.
After Angus had collected his winnings the dancing part of the evening began. As she had consumed another three glasses of Merlot to get through the monotonous speeches, his strange retort slipped from her mind, and she went on to thoroughly enjoy the live band and the dancing to the subsequent glam-rock disco.
When they drew up outside Willowbrook Lodge, she lingered over their goodnight kiss, but it was only when she dropped her beaded evening bag onto the console table in the hallway, that it occurred to her that Angus had not asked, or expected, to be invited in for a nightcap, nor had she thought to invite him in.
To her surprise, a shiver of desire ran through her body when she thought of her kiss with Charlie as they danced to the tunes of Abba in the Dog & Gun, and she could recall every nuance of the intense urgency and deep arousal he had engendered when he thought he was instructing her on the finer points of stretching an archery bow, his warm body pressed into hers, his soft breath tickling her cheek.
She’d experienced none of these emotions with Angus which, she had to admit, was strange. After all, they were so similar in their backgrounds they should be on the same wavelength. They had just spent a very enjoyable evening in interesting company, with good food and a copious amount of Merlot. So why not?
Again, Susan’s sage words of admonishment rang into the silence of the hallway.
The heart wants what the heart wants.
Was that Charlie?
Chapter Twenty Six
‘Hi, Rosie, it’s Charlie. Remember me?’
‘Funny, Charlie. Of course I do. What do you want?’
‘Always delighted to hear from me, I see.’
‘Charlie…’
‘Okay, okay, as you know, Jasper loved your aunt’s book proposal and wants to go ahead with publishing. He’s ready to get together with you to go through the contract as your aunt’s representative. Can you come down to the Manor now to meet him?’
‘What do you mean? Now?’
‘I know you weren’t entirely sure about a book deal, Rosie, but it’s all set up. Jasper is an important guy in the publishing world. It’s a real achievement to get his interest, even more so when he says he loves a book in its early stages. You would never negotiate a better offer than he can give you.’
‘Oh Charlie, I am grateful for what you’ve done, but everything seems to be happening so fast! I thought the wheels of the literary world rolled much more slowly, to be honest. And what with the cottage being sold, and packing up my aunt’s belongings, I don’t think I can cope with negotiating the finer points of a publishing contract…’
‘It’s only a meeting, and don’t worry I’ll be with you every step of the way to talk you through it. I wouldn’t leave you at themercy of one of Jasper’s zealous sales pitches. You don’t have to do any of this alone, Rosie, I’m here for you. If you really don’t like the contract or what Jasper has planned for the book, then you don’t have to sign anything. Just hear him out.’
