Page 71 of Duke It Out
“Aye, I know who she is.”
I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing. He’s got a way of saying everything while saying nothing.
“Right,” Anna says huffily. “I’ll go and put on someoutdoor clothes.You can take me for a drive and show me around.”
Gregor and I stand side by side as she flounces off. As the door closes he turns to me, his bright blue eyes twinkling.
“Huv to admit I thought you’d have better taste in friends,” he says, eyebrows raised a fraction.
I cringe. “She’s—she’s not so bad when she’s in London.”
His head nods upwards in acknowledgment. “Oh, I’ve seen the type many a time up here. I’m teasing you. I’m sure she’s nice enough.”
“I—” I open my mouth and then close it again. The words “is she?’ are left unspoken.
The next two days don’t get any better. We go to the stables to see Kate. Anna slips in horse shit and makes a massive deal about getting mud on her boots and doesn’t see the appeal of the fluffy little Highland pony foals, saying they look like cart horses. We pop into the coffee shop again and she grumbles about her drink. Again. And then – by which point I’m doing zen breathing to stop myself from shoving her over the harbour wall into the sea – we pop into the village mini-market, where she waltzes around loudly complaining about everything. It’s as bad as it sounds. Worse, probably. I feel like I’ve spent two months getting to know everyone and find my feet and in forty-eight hours Anna’s managed to pull the rug out from underneath me.
Everything’s shifted somehow anyway. Sitting in the library working alone I’d grown used to the familiar chime of the grandfather clock and the creaks and groans that the ancient floorboards made, even when there was nobody around. But now the ball was taking place the whole castle seems to hum with movement and purpose and I keep feeling like I’m getting in the way. It’s not that I’ve been shut out, it’s more they’re all caught up in something I don’t have any part in.
There are footsteps on back staircases I didn’t know existed. Floral arrangements are appearing, and buckets of cut stems from the glasshouse and the kitchen garden are lined up in the back rooms beyond the morning kitchen. Janey’s sweeping around with her iPad and a clipboard, her expression midway between battlefield commander and head girl. She flashes me a smile as she passes. Every room I pass has someone or something in it – napkins are beingpressed, chandeliers being polished, and Tom the under-gardener is tuning bagpipes in the kitchen garden on his lunch break.
It makes me feel… weirdly in the way. Not on purpose. Kate says it’s always manic in the run up to the ball, and there’s a frisson that comes with it being Rory’s first time in charge. He’s like a thundercloud on the horizon – I haven’t seen him, but I’ve sensed his presence. Everyone’s being as polite and friendly as normal, but there’s a difference between being tolerated and being part of something – I’ve lived most of my life in that gap. Maybe that’s why I’m aware it’s there.
I’m supposed to be working. Iamworking. Perched on the window seat in the library with my laptop, I’m transcribing notes in the late duke’s now-familiar writing, trying to turn his scribbled fragments of memory into something solid that will last generations. And trying to work out how to deal with the fact that I’m typing into the record books the incontrovertible truth: he was responsible for a careful and calculated land grab from farmers whose land surrounded the estate, paying them under the odds and taking away their agency and freedom only to rent it back to them.
There’s nothing about this man I like. I glare at the spidery ink of his notes as if they somehow contain his essence.
“There you are,” Anna says as if I’m a five-year-old who has gone missing at preschool. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I glance around the library. “I’m working.”
“Yes, I can see that.” She gives me a familiar beseeching look. “You don’t have any nail varnish remover?”
I slam the duke’s diary closed and sigh under my breath. I can tell where this is going already.
“I don’t.” I’ve known Anna for fifteen years. I’ve rented her spare room for the last two years. I’ve been allergic to nail polish all that time.
“Well, that is annoying.” She cranes her neck to peer over my shoulder, watching as Gregor manages a food delivery. “Someone must.”
I close the laptop before she can see what I’m writing. If she even reads one page, my NDA is toast, and so is my career.
Anna wiggles her fingertips and looks at them with distaste. “And I’m going to guess the chances of a nail bar in this backwater are slim to none?”
“Non-existent.” I look down at my own unpainted nails.
“Can you ask one of your new mates if they’ll lend me some?”
I think of Janey’s harried expression when I saw her running up the stairs earlier, and of Kate – practical and forthright – who would probably laugh in my face if I asked.
I stand up and tuck my laptop under my arm. “They’ll have some at the village shop.” Anna folds her arms and gives a satisfied smile. “Give me a minute and I’ll stick this stuff in my room.”
“Oh, you don’t need me to come, do you? I was going to go for a swim.”
What I want to say and what I do say are two entirely different things.
“Sure.”
“You are a doll. No point both of us shlepping all the way over there and back. You need a break from the books, anyway.”
