Millie couldn’t give a monkey’s about the Isle of Mann or the Virgin Islands. She cared about one specific island. This one. And one man on it who had always knownhewould win thechallenge.
His father was settling in for a long lecture, but her mind waselsewhere.
That was why he’d agreed so quickly to the bet. Her mouth tasted bitter. He’d known she would lose, and he’d never had any intention of taking her onthat boat.
She could hear the old man talking as she looked out of the window on the sun-baked fields. But the day was already a little darker for her.
I was wrong. There was nothing between us.
Correction, there was plenty on this side of “us.”She’d been watching out of the window, hoping to catch him coming or going. Ha, if he’d really wanted to see her, he’d have come looking for her himself.
Her heart, which had been dancing flips and leaps for two weeks, now weighed on her diaphragm like a dead brick.
Okay. She tried to breathe through thelost hope.
That was okay. She inhaled slowly then exhaled.
So he wasn’t interested.
You’re a big girl, Millie. You can handle arejection.
Life goes on.As soon as she had a moment alone, she’d go to her room and lick her wounds in private.
Just then Mrs B came into the room with the morning coffee tray. Millie jumped up to help, but Mrs B wavedher away.
“Don’t trouble yourself, dear. You’re wanted downstairs.”
Millie looked at her, uncertain. “Why?”Whowants me?
“There’s someone asking for you. Well. He actually asked for Mrs Wainwright, but I remembered that used to be your name, didn’t it?”
A trace of disappointment weighed heavy in Millie’s heart.
Du Montfort snorted. “Probably someone selling insurance.” He watched her standingundecided.
“Well, go, go.” He waved her away. “You’re not really listening to me anyway. Run along.”
She put down her divorce papers and went out to the gallery. At the top of the stairs, behind the bannister, she paused to take a breath and clear away the disappointment.
Looking down on the hall, all other thoughtsvanished.
Henry.
Du Montfort Hall, Entrance. 10.30am
Millie couldn’t believe her eyes; her feet froze on the top step. What washedoing here?
Henry looked uncomfortably hot in a three-piece suit; his normally pale face was pink and shiny, and sweat slicked the edges of his hair behind his ears. Sitting on the leather chaise longue in the entrance, dwarfed by the grandness of the hall, he kept fidgeting, brushing imaginary dust from his clothes. He crossed his legs, then changed his mind and leaned forward. To Millie, he looked like a young trainee insurancesalesman.
She suppressed a grin. She remembered coaching him before a job interview on how to sit in order to look serious but relaxed. He’d clearly forgotten the lesson.
Seeing him so nervous had the opposite effect on her.I used to think you so much better than me.She started down the stairs, her hand gliding on the polished wood of thebanister.
As soon as he heard her footsteps, he jumped up with alacrity, looking up at her. “Excuse me, I am waiting to see Millie Wainwright.”
She didn’t say anything but continued walking down the semi-circular staircase. His eyes travelled up her legs in obvious and tactless admiration.
Oh, Henry, have some class.
