Page 14 of Confessions of a Christmasholic

‘What’s the hall and who’s Moira?’

‘Conningworth Hall is right next door, a stately home now run as a B&B and events venue. Moira is Lady Moira Conningworth, the wife of Viscount Conningworth, who passed away twenty years ago.’

‘The twins’ mum, and my late wife, inherited the Barony of Conningworth after her father died. It’s one of the few hereditary peerages that are passed onto the oldest child, rather than the oldest male in a family.’

Sutton blinked. Okay, so his wife had been a baroness. ‘Does that make you a lord or something?’

He shook his head. ‘No, thank God. But Rosie, as the oldest, will inherit the barony one day. But that’s not the point – we were talking about your movements last night.’ Right, yeah. Those.

‘The only other house along this road is Sunshine Cottage.’

Sutton tried to keep her expression blank, but when his frown deepened, she knew she was in trouble. ‘Were you heading for Will and Eli’s place last night? Why? You don’t know them.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ Sutton asked, lifting her chin and trying to project bravado. She had none, but she thought faking some was a good idea.

‘I’ve known them for over ten years, and they’ve never mentioned you, not once. And because Eli never stops talking, I know about all their friends, their families…much more than I need to.’

Sutton winced. Damn it! There was no point in continuing with the lie, it would get her nowhere. And he could refute her claim with one quick call.

‘I have a friend, well, an acquaintance, I met him in London, and he is Will’s nephew. He comes up here now and again—’

‘Jason? Yeah, I know him.’

Sutton lifted her shoulder. ‘Jason said they would be away, that I could –’ Sutton hesitated ‘– live there until they returned. He told me where to find the key.’

His eyes iced over. ‘Squat, you mean.’

Tomato,to-mah-to. ‘Jason, obviously, got their schedule mixed up. I was planning on spending last night, and the next few weeks, in their house.’

Disapproval radiated from him, and Sutton felt fourteen years old, caught smoking a joint and drinking vodka and Red Bull. She met his eyes and felt the power of his gaze pinning her to her seat. Sutton swallowed. It was now or never, do or die, make or break.Enough with the clichés, Alsop, and get on with it. Be brave.

Sutton looked away and sucked in a deep breath. She wasn’t good at this, at pushing herself into situations where she wasn’t wanted; she far preferred to do her own thing and make her own way. But she was out of options.

‘I need a place to stay and a way to earn some money to get me back on my feet.’

What she was about to do wasn’t nice, it was a dirty play, but she’d run out of road. ‘If you don’t let me stay and if you don’t give me a job in the run-up to Christmas—’

‘You’ll what?’ he asked, when her words trailed off.

Oh, yeah, he was cool. She could easily imagine him on the battlefield, dressed in fatigues, eyes narrowed as he considered how to storm a fortified compound or throw himself out of a helicopter. He wasn’t someone you wanted as an enemy, and she did feel like a tiny, ill-prepared nation about to wage war on a superpower.

After the boys left and before he came home, she’d concocted a plan. She’d found the video clip of him she took last night pummelling Santa and thought she’d blackmail her way into a job by threatening to tag his businesses on social media. But she couldn’t do it, not even for a warm bed.

But, God, where could she go?Do?She’d never felt more scared or helpless in her life.

She pulled the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘I was going to blackmail you into letting me stay and giving me a job.’

His eyes sharpened. ‘Andhowwere you going to blackmail me?’

‘I have a video of you beating the crap out of Santa and shouting that you hate Christmas. I thought that Mr Christmas wouldn’t want that getting out.’

‘Mr Christmas would not,’ he agreed, still calm.

‘I’ll delete the video. Sorry, it was a reallyshittyidea,’ Sutton babbled, her hands over her face, her feet hitting the floor. ‘You’ve been nothing but kind, and I’ll get out of your hair.’

She’d have to call her mum and ask her for some emergency money to get back to Heathrow. She had a return air ticket and could fly back as soon as a seat became available. It would be a horrendous end to her long-planned trip, the worst. She’d planned on looking for, and securing, an OT job in the new year, but she didn’t have enough money to survive until Christmas Eve. She had accommodation booked and paid for from Christmas Eve until after the new year, breakfast included. But she had nothing to live on between now and then. And crucially, nowhere to stay.

Gus’s eyes met hers, and she was surprised by his lack of anger. Why wasn’t he furious? Threatening to kick her out, calling the police? Yelling?

---