Page 81 of An Unholy Affair
‘Here she is! The reincarnation of Jane Austen herself. Our darling Libby, who runs these brilliant tours and allows me to dress-up and join in.’
Libby held out her hand. ‘It’s so nice to meet you at last, and thank you for everything you did.’
Jack took it. ‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘Nonsense,’ Arthur replied. ‘By lending Henry and Libby your London flat, you helped their love grow. And you also inadvertently brought Mr Pussy into our lives.’
Jack bit back a grin.
‘Arthur,’ Libby said firmly. ‘Our cat is now called “Mr P”.’
‘Is he around?’ Jack asked. ‘I’m happy to view him from a distance, but…’
‘You’re terribly allergic,’ Libby finished, wincing as if remembering the damage the cat had inflicted on his flat. ‘He’s around somewhere, probably terrorising the dogs. He’s not keen on new people—’
‘The big bugger’s not keen onanypeople,’ Arthur grumbled. ‘Apart from Henry and Libby, of course.’
‘—and he never goes near the offices,’ she continued, ‘so you’re safe there. Shall we walk that way now? Henry and Estelle are expecting you.’
Arthur wentto get changed and Jack followed Libby through the ground floor of England’s most scandalous stately home. Arthur, the Duke of Foxbrooke, had two wives, six children, was a committed naturist, and ran sex parties at the Manor. None of his children shared his passions, but they loved one another unconditionally, and welcomed Jack into the family as one of their own.
Turning down a corridor, Jack heard Estelle’s raised voice coming from a room up ahead.
‘But if they get bought out, who knows if the new owners will stick to the plans?’
Even though the door was half open, Libby still knocked.
Henry opened it, his face wreathed in smiles as he gazed at her. ‘How did it go?’
‘Brilliantly. Even when your father’s wig flew off after he turned a quadrille into a country dance.’
Henry laughed and drew her into his arms. ‘I love you.’
She sighed. ‘I love you too.’
‘And I love you three,’ said Estelle, elbowing them out of the way. ‘Are you aware that Jack’s standing there like a lemon, not knowing whether to throw up or run away?’
They broke apart, and Henry cleared his throat. ‘Sorry about that. Please, do come in.’
‘And what’s with all the formal crap?’ Estelle asked her brother. ‘Fuck me, it’s like you’ve got no middle ground.’ She pulled Jack in for a hug. ‘He’s either Sir Stiff-Upper-Lip, or Sir Soppy-Pants.’
Libby giggled. ‘Or Sir Stiff-Pants?’
Jack grinned as Estelle made loud retching noises.
Libby kissed Henry’s cheek. ‘See you at dinner, my liege.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Estelle said, pushing her out of the door. ‘Now bugger off before my brother breaks out into sonnets or something.’
‘I love you, fair maiden!’ Henry called as the door closed, a big smile on his face.
‘I love you more!’ Libby yelled from the corridor outside.
‘Agh!’ Estelle cried through gritted teeth, her hands on either side of her head.
Jack laughed.
Estelle pointed at him. ‘Don’t encourage them.’ She stalked back to a desk on one side of the room. It was covered with papers, empty mugs, and bizarre ornaments. ‘You see what I have to put up with?’
