“These festivals take it out of me, so I always ask Millie to keep a little space for me to rest. Now, young man.,” He turns to Brandon. “You promised to enter the donkey race, so off you go.”
Brandon stands uncertainly looking from me to the old man.
“This young lady and I have a lot to discuss. I promise, I’ll be very considerate. Now go, and you’d better win. Half the island is betting on you, and I don’t want them to lose their money.”
He waits until we’re alone then fixes me with sharp eyes. “I’m du Montfort, George’s father. Millie is my daughter-in-law. In case you thought I’d been cradle-raiding for a trophy wife.” His eyes twinkle mischievously.
My cheeks heat because I have in fact, been wondering exactly that.
The old man suddenly laughs. He literally throws his head back and laughs. “You’re not the first person to make that mistake, believe me. But my son, who is far better looking, is busy with all kinds of activities today, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with this senile, old man.”
Yeah, if he’s a senile old man, Then I’m Ann Widdicombe.
“Now, Miss Trapper, we’re alone here and can’t be overheard, so why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you.”
His open, straight-to-the-point manner makes it surprisingly easy to talk. He listens quietly and attentively while I explain my situation. I don’t mention thepomegranate, but if what Millie said is true, he probably knows already. “Circumstances being what they are with a cabinet reshuffle and an election coming sooner rather than later, Clive must not know where I am.”
“Hmm. I don’t know Clive, but I do remember his father-in-law.” Lord Du Montfort says at last. “Long ago, Sir Alan had aspirations to be a politician himself. Unfortunately, he has the charisma of cottage cheese. And when it comes to politics, he has the charm of rotten eggs and the diplomacy of a drunken pub brawl.”
My lips twitch, and I press them hard to suppress a laugh. His description of Sir Alan is spot on.
“So, all his ambition and manipulative planning goes into Clive Smith. And he won’t let anyone, not even a lovely lady like you, get in the way of his plans. My guess is he’ll fight you very hard.”
Confined to a wheelchair he may be – and judging by the left hand which remains in his pocket, he’s also semi paralysed – but he’s definitely well-informed.
“I have no intention of upsetting the apple cart. It’s why I must be invisible until after the elections. And my worry is that no matter what else is going on in the government, the press will not be able to resist the scandal of finding me...” I pause, thinking.
The idea hits me that there is another solution.
I could terminate the pomegran – no. No.
Never. Of their own accord, my hands wrap around my stomach.
That is not for me. God knows many women have taken that step and it is their choice. It’s not something I can do.
Du Montfort’s eyes flick briefly to my stomach just for a split second, then his gaze is back on my face, but we both understand each other.
“The way I see it,” Lord Du Montfort says, “there’s little point in you moving into a hotel. You need long term accommodation, don’t you?”
True.
“You have several choices, none of them easy, my dear.” The fingers of his one mobile hand tap on the armrest of his wheelchair. “Long term accommodation is hard to find here. Unlike England, we don’t sanction building new housing willy-nilly, and people must wait until something becomes available. Brandon’s brother waited three years until he got the lease on the cottage, and my son had to intervene to allow it to go to Brandon according to the terms of the will. Otherwise, it would have been put back into the housing pool for the next person on the list.”
There’s a moment of silence between us despite the distant sounds of the fair and the hum of the freezer in the room with us.
“And your son won’t intervene for me.” I guess because Lord Du Montfort seems to be leading the conversation in that direction.
“Believe me, you don’t want him to do that, not if you want to keep a low profile. The Seigneur making a special case for a woman; that’ll attract all kinds of attention. You’re clearly from London, so, it won’t be long before people start asking who you are and why you’re here.”
How stupid could I be? In all of my research, I never considered the gossip factor.
“You can, of course, move into the Hall,” he continues after a moment. “That is my house, and I can invite whomever I like.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of putting you out.”
“Putting us out?” He laughs. “You think one of us will have to sleep on the sofa to make room for you? Oh, my dear young lady, Du Montfort Hall has more rooms than we know what to do with. It would be the easiest thing in the world to give you a suite. Besides, you’ve already made friends with Millie, and soon you’ll meet Pierre and Gabriel who also live with us. It would be a pleasure to have you join the household.”
Something about his tone makes me think there’s a ‘but’ coming. And that he’s waiting for me to work it out.
