Page 10 of A Recipe for Love
Adam smiled. ‘My dad started that cos it used to freak me out when I was little. Hard to be scared of a shape in the night that’s called Colin.’
Bella patted the suit gently on the shoulder. ‘Well hello Colin.’
‘And Colin’s not so bad. The one upstairs is much worse. His arms fall off if you look at him the wrong way.’
Further discussion of precisely how many medieval soldier suits the Lowbridge family owned was curtailed by a sudden flurry of fur and paws and woofs. Adam bent down to pet the very excited chocolate Labrador in front of them. ‘Dipper! Hello girl. Who’s a good girl?’
Bella crouched down and held out her fingers. Dipper obliged with a tentative sniff and exploratory lick before turning up her nose and padding away.
A second later she was barking again, jumping up and down in the space in front of them, focused entirely on a patch of air somewhere off to Bella’s left.
Adam ignored her. ‘Come on. Breakfast’s through here.’
The small dining room was panelled in dark brown wood, and there was a very faint smell of damp in the air. The dominant feature of the room was the huge stag’s head, mounted between the two tall windows staring mournfully down at the room. Bella couldn’t help but feel he was judging them. The table was laid for four with proper china, painted in a delicate floral pattern, and gleaming silver. There was a place at the head of the table, two more down one side and one directly opposite them. Bella moved towards the first chair, where she could keep the stag under surveillance without feeling like he was staring her right in the eye.
‘That’s the laird’s place.’ The voice came from the doorway, but Bella hadn’t heard footsteps, so who knew how long the apparition glaring at her had been standing there? The woman was elderly, but the sort of elderly that would never acknowledge such an inconvenience as the passage of time. Her white hair was scraped into an impeccably neat bun, and she was smartly dressed in navy blue trousers with a rose pink sweater over a high buttoned-up blouse. Her spectacles hung around her neck on a fine gold chain. And she was wearing court shoes. In the house. At half past seven in the morning. Bella wasn’t sure she could think of a wider cultural gulf than the one between her and a person who wore court shoes for breakfast.
Adam greeted the woman with a tentative peck on the cheek. ‘Grandmother.’
She nodded curtly. ‘So, the new Baron Lowbridge.’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m very well.’ Her gaze settled on Bella. ‘And you are?’
Adam was at her side straight away, hand in the small of her back. ‘This is Bella Smith.’ Bella felt the intake of breath he took before the next part. ‘My fiancée.’
If the senior Lady Lowbridge was shocked or surprised she did not let any such disquiet appear on her face. ‘Miss Smith.’
She held out a slender hand for Bella to shake, and then turned her attention immediately to the table. ‘I presume your stepmother is joining us.’
‘How is she?’ Adam sounded concerned.
His grandmother shook her head. ‘Well, she made the most tremendous fuss yesterday.’
‘It must have been a shock,’ Bella suggested.
‘But still.’ Adam’s grandmother pursed her lips. ‘There are things we need to get on with.’
‘Oh.’ A new voice in the doorway to the kitchen made them turn. In an instant Adam was over there wrapping the newcomer into a hug. Adam’s grandmother clasped her hands at her navel. Bella hung back, not sure where she fit in.
Eventually Adam released the stranger. She could have been anywhere from twenty-five, but elegant beyond her years, to fifty, with a really talented botox technician. She was model tall, with hair cut short in an Audrey Hepburn style crop showing off her sharp cheekbones and wide blue eyes, but her face was pale and those unmissable eyes had shadows beneath them. She was wearing what looked like traditional men’s pyjamas and a long man’s dressing gown over the top. ‘How are you feeling?’ Adam asked her.
The stranger shook her head. ‘I really don’t know.’ She had more than a twang of an American accent.
Bella cleared her throat, perhaps a little more pointedly than she’d intended.
Adam stepped back towards her. ‘Right. Sorry. Bella, this is my stepmother, Darcy Lowbridge. Darcy, this is Bella.’ He paused. ‘My fiancée.’
One perfectly sculpted eyebrow elevated slightly. ‘Fiancée?’
‘It’s new,’ Bella explained.
‘Clearly.’ A spark of life had come back into Darcy’s demeanour at this news. ‘Well,’ she turned to Adam’s grandmother. ‘Did you hear that, Veronica? Adam’s engaged.’
‘Apparently.’ Veronica turned to the table. ‘Shall we?’
Adam hesitated before he took the place at the top of the table. Bella went to take one of the chairs nearest to her fiancée but Veronica and Darcy were already taking their places, so she was shunted down to the space next to Darcy, as Flinty bustled into the room. ‘Oh, Lady Lowbridge!’ She smiled at Darcy. ‘I didn’t realise you were coming down. I was going to bring you a tray.’
