Sarah had worked as a housekeeper at Ardnoch Estate for years, all the while secretly penning a best-selling crime fiction series. When Collum passed away, she decided to give up the housekeeping job and be open about her success. Her first port of call was asking Theo Cavendish, one of the UK’s best screenwriters and producers (and the son of an actual viscount), to consider adapting her series for television. What occurred between them after that only they knew, but the unlikely pair—shy housekeeper and imperious English aristocrat—fell madly in love. They made the television series together and it was a massive hit, won a ton of awards, and had become a cult classic among television shows. I’d even guest-starred on it before its final season.
With the kids now on their summer holidays, it was unusual for the Cavendishes to still be here, but according to Mum, Sarah was on deadline and they weren’t planning to travel for another two weeks.
After chatting with my uncle Brodan, he’d suggested Theo was the best person to discuss my script with since he was still in the business. Uncle Brodan, of course, offered to read it, but I knew he was correct. Not just because Theo knew what was relevant and happening in the industry, but because he wasn’t someone who had inspired my script like my family had, like Brodan had.
I walked along the farmer’s lane that connected the small, sprawled development Jared and Allegra had created, having said goodbye to Fyfe and Millie as he set off to drop her at daycare and then head in for a meeting with a client at Ardnoch. The past few weeks with Fyfe had been nothing short of bliss. After what I’d gone through recently, I hadn’t thought I wascapable of being this happy. But I finally understood what cloud nine meant.
I was on it. And regularly getting the best orgasms of my life on that thing.
Fyfe, Millie, and I had fallen into a routine so easily, it was like we were built to be a family. I spent most of my nights there, so much so Mum and Dad were angling for a family dinner so they could officially commemorate my relationship with Fyfe. I knew they were pleased for us, but I was a wee bit apprehensive to do any “commemorating.” Because as much as I was loving every minute of this life Fyfe and I were creating … there was just one thing missing.
He hadn’t told me he loved me.
I hadn’t said it again since that first time I confessed it because … well … maybe, a little stubbornly, I wanted him to say it first.
Yet, if he didn’t say it soon, I was going to blurt those three words out there and try not to lose my shit if he didn’t say them back.
Stubborn male.
I took a deep breath, shoving thoughts of my new relationship with Fyfe from my mind. Now was aboutme. About my possible future career. For a moment, I stood outside the large home that was almost identical to Fyfe’s, staring at it. Urging my feet forward.
Theo was expecting me.
I’d called him last night to ask if he had time to talk. He told me he’d be home at 8:30 a.m. after dropping Rose off at the summer school my mum organized on top of her regular daycare. My mother was superwoman. It would be cool to be like Mum. To be able to explore my own passions, all the while helping Fyfe raise Millie.
Mor asked me the other day if that meant I was going to be Millie’s new mum. I hadn’t known how to answer. So I’d said maybe. My wee sister had then asked if that scared me.
I answered honestly. “I think it would be arrogant to say no when I’ll be responsible for a little human being’s happiness. But I’m more excited than scared.”
It was true. Millie had weirdly felt like mine from the very beginning. Kind of like how Fyfe had felt like mine since I was eleven years old.
The front door of the Cavendishes’ home opened as I stood there lost in my musings.
Theo stepped outside into the bright sunshine. “Are you having our meeting outside on your lonesome or was it your eventual intention to knock on the door?” he drawled in his upper-crust English accent.
I rolled my eyes as I approached the cerebral, sardonic screenwriter. The man had been twice blessed with beauty and intelligence. His golden good-looks and wit were an intimidating combination, but I knew beneath that sarcastic exterior, he was a giant marshmallow who would do anything for those he loved. He was also more obsessed with his wife than any man I knew and that was saying something considering who my family members were. Sarah had softened Theo’s edges considerably over the years.
“I was just bracing myself to face your unique brand of wit,” I replied as I reached him.
Theo’s lips curved upward. He liked when you bit back. “Unique, you say? Always delightful to hear.” He gestured me inside the modern house that had almost the exact floor plan as Fyfe’s. Fyfe had taken the wall down between the entrance and the rest of the space. Seeing the wall still in place in the Cavendishes’ house, I couldn’t help but agree with Fyfe’s choice to open it all up.
I followed Theo out of the entrance and into the main space. The layout here was almost identical. However, much more lived in. Art on the walls, throws over the furniture, colorful scatter cushions, and rugs breaking up the large expanse of hardwood. A gallery of family photographs ran up the stairwell wall.
It made me realize how much softening we needed to do to Fyfe’s home to make it feel … well … like ahome.
Sarah Cavendish hopped off a stool at the island, a wide smile on her pretty face. For years, Sarah had been so shy and introverted that I’d never paid much attention to her when I saw her out and about.
It was shocking then once Aria and Allegra welcomed her into our circle to discover that Sarah was stunning in a very English rose sort of way. Long, wheat-blond hair, refined features, and the most striking pair of green eyes. Still, I knew for a fact it wasn’t just her quiet beauty that lured Theo in. Once you got talking to Sarah, you realized she was one of the most intelligent, nonjudgmental people you were likely to meet.
A strangely perfect match for the prickly aristocrat who doted on her. Theo reminded me of a faithful guard dog, who snuggled and loved all over his owner and growled at anyone else who got too close.
I’m not sure he’d find the description flattering.
“Eilidh, it’s so good to see you.” Sarah drew me into a hug. When she released me, her gaze was searching. “How are you?”
The memory of Peter Pryor hadn’t disappeared just because I was loved up. His court case had been set for November. It would be a long few months knowing what the trial would entail: the media frenzy, the reliving of him violating my privacy, his attack …
“I’m much better. It’s good knowing Peter is behind bars and will probably remain there for a very long time.” The Met Police had been in touch regarding the recordings of me they’ddiscovered on the computer. They needed permission to submit them as evidence. As much of a violation as that was, I agreed. The recordings would never make it into public consumption. At least they assured me they wouldn’t.
