Page 94 of Reckless Kiss

He held a tray with four tumblers and a single whiskey measure. The four siblings took a glass each, necked the liquid, and placed the glasses back on the tray.

“She’s waiting for you,” Bailey advised, meaning not to hang around.

Archer led the way into the large room filled with the entire history of the Turners and went to the opposite end to where Aunt Cynthia sat at his grandfather’s writing desk with a stack of papers.

“Only you sign, Archer. The business will be yours and yours alone to take on,” his aunt warned.

“Understood. I wanted Jason, Luke, and Daisy here to know the cottages, hotel, and wedding business can give us jobs and an income,” Archer said.

His aunt grunted and flipped to the back page where she’d already signed her name. Archer scribbled his signature on two copies with an ancient fountain pen he thought had been used in his great-grandfather’s time.

Aunt Cynthia collected the documents, sliding one into an envelope and sealing the end. She turned it over to show Archer the address.

It was the family’s solicitors.

“This will go off on Monday morning so he can re-do my will,” she said.

“Of course,” Archer replied. “Are you coming back outside for the party?”

“No, I’ll let you all enjoy yourself. All the standing around has left me tired.”

“Thank you for standing by the arrangement. I won’t be staying in Turner Hall now I’m married and own the cottages. Erica and I will live in the cottage she’s been staying in.”

A flash of regret washed across his aunt’s face for a second or two, and he felt guilty for leaving her on her own in the main house. But then, she’d been on her own in Turner Hall for some time, and it was her own doing. Neither he nor Erica wanted to eat at set times. Or be under any scrutiny. The cottage was perfect for their needs, and they would have good memories of how they came together in the first place. Shaking off the guilt, he picked up the papers and rolled them into a tube.

“Goodnight, Aunt,” Archer said.

The four of them walked out of the morning room and then to the conservatory. Bailey wasn’t there. He hoped that meant he’d gone to his rooms to change to join the celebrations. It was a small gathering with a simple food menu Jason had designed and enlisted a couple of chefs to prepare to give Maggie the day off.

“What do you think the catch is?” Luke asked as they crossed the lawns from Turner Hall into Edward Hall.

“I don’t know, but let’s go and chat with Stan Myers. I think he should be able to tell us. I have a hunch I know what’s going on.”

They reached Stan, and he shook hands with them all, offering his congratulations to Archer.

“It was a grand ceremony,” Stan said.

“Yes, and it all came together so easily. You must be well-practised. You’ll be a great asset to the business,” Archer said, holding up the rolled legal document.

“What’s that?” Stan asked, paling.

“I own the wedding business, Edward Hall, and the cottages. Aunt Cynthia signed them over to me as a wedding present.”

Archer wasn’t going to tell the man the real deal. He wasn’t a Turner.

“I see. Well, that makes you my boss.”

“I guess it does. Tell me, Stan, how many weddings have you done for Cynthia Turner at Edward Hall?”

Stan grew silent, eyes wide as he thought about Archer’s question. Archer knew weddings had taken place when his grandfather was alive as he’d witnessed them, but he was dead six years.

“How many, roughly over the last six years? I don’t need an exact number.”

“Um,” Stan said, scratching his head, seemingly holding a phantom fishing hat.

“Or to the nearest ten, just give me an idea?” Archer pushed. Jason, Luke, and Daisy looked on, bemused at Stan’s discomfort.

“The thing is Archer. Can I still call you Archer?”

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