Page 4 of Reckless Kiss

“I don’t run anything. That’s what managers are for. And I’ll thank you, not to mention my age again.”

“Are you telling me no?”

Silence emanated from his aunt. He could almost hear the cogs whirring in her head. That was enough pause for him to know she didn’t care much about overseeing the family business.

Edward Hall was a smaller version of the house they were sitting in was half a mile away. It was a mini palace that entertained the minor royalty, celebrities, and the very rich who wanted an exclusive wedding. The hotel was a place to stay for the exclusive guest who could relax without having the press turn up. Five cottages, half a mile away from Edward Hall, the other side from Turner Hall, were let out long term for those who wanted to hide away from some crisis. It was his grandfather who had turned the second house into a business. He was fed up with his friends turning up and spending weeks eating his food and drinking his whisky. His grandfather called the second house Edward Hall after his father.

“I’ll give you my answer in the morning. You may go,” his aunt said and then rang the tiny bell next to her.

He took one look at her pinched lips and stood up.

“What time should I call tomorrow?” Archer asked, buttoning his suit jacket.

“Not a minute before ten-thirty,” she answered.

Archer nodded and gazed at the painting of his grandfather, Archibald Turner, before he strode from the room. Hisaunt adored her father right up to the day she didn’t. No one would talk about why they fell out, and now Aunt Cynthia was the only person alive who could reveal the secrets. Jennifer, her dress maid, could, Archer thought, but she was loyal to her mistress.

Chapter 4

Archer

Landing back in the foyer, he met Bailey carrying a stack of letters.

“Maggie has made you a meal. She’s named the damn dog, and all your clothes are being laundered.”

“I love and have missed Maggie. She saved my backside more times than I can remember when I was a kid.”

“I remember,” Bailey answered with a knowing smirk. “I better get these to Miss Turner,” he said, nodding to the silver tray and the pile of letters.

Archer turned, slipped through the servant’s door, and hurried down the stone steps to the kitchen. It struck him that the old-fashioned ways his aunt still maintained comforted him. It was so outdated, but took him straight back to his upbringing, which was a happy one until it wasn’t.

“Maggie,” Archer called out as soon as the expansive open kitchen came into view. The round-faced cook bustledtowards him even though she wore a white shirt, black trousers, and an apron.

“Come here, my boy, and give an old lady a cuddle,” she said with a broad grin.

Maggie Jones was a foot shorter than him, but packed a mean hug when she wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him.

“You’re not old. It’s good to see you, Maggie. How have you been?”

“Keeping well,” she said, pulling away and patting his cheek. “I’m feeling my sixty years, I can tell you.”

“Is my aunt treating you okay?” Archer looked at her, concerned that the old battle-axe was making her life hard.

“No more than usual. Have a seat at the table. I’ve made your favourite. As soon as I heard you were coming today, I knew exactly what to make for you.”

“Beef and ale pie with so much mash I can’t eat it all?”

“You got it. Apple pie too,” she said and winked. “You’ve got plenty of time to eat. Your clothes won’t be ready for a few hours.”

“Is there a bed I can sleep in tonight?” Archer asked when a steaming plate of food that made his eyes water was placed in front of him.

“None of the cottages are rented out this week. If you don’t want to sleep under Turner Hall’s roof, you can take one of those. They’re made up, ready for guests.”

“No bookings this week?” Archer asked.

“It’s full next week,” Maggie said and busied herself at the stove, swapping pans over on the rings.

“Should I get a key from Bailey?”

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