‘My father doesn’t approve of my decision. Nobody does.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s not what Greenfield men do, apparently.’
‘And what are Greenfield men supposed to do?’ Penny asked, wondering why Harry had chosen to keep all of this to himself for so long.
‘Army. Sandhurst for entry at officer level, no messing about. Major by the time I’m thirty. Working towards half-colonel by my mid-thirties. My father has a plan. A schedule.’
‘He has your whole life mapped out?’ she asked. Somehow Penny couldn’t think of anything which would suit Harry less than being in the army.
‘Pretty much. He’s not one for sitting around. He’s a major general himself and has his eye on another star for his epaulets.’
‘I don’t even know what that means,’ Penny said, and Harry laughed.
‘You get so used to army talk that you forget that it’s not as widely known. It just means he’s after a promotion, is determined to take another step up the ladder.’
‘Oh. OK. And what does Sophie think about the life your father had planned for you?’
‘I don’t think she sees it in quite the same negative light as me.’ Harry’s brows furrowed. ‘And I get what she means – it’s a life we both understand, but …’
‘But it’s not what you want?’
‘I don’t think so.’ The furrowing intensified. ‘She suggested I take some time out, have a bit of fun, come back to the army thing once I’ve got the cooking bug out of my system. So, here I am, trying to de-bug myself.’
‘Is it working?’ Penny asked, desperately clinging to the hope that Harry would confirm the opposite, that the longer he spent away from that life, away from Sophie, the less he wanted to return to it.
Instead, he shrugged. ‘Maybe she’s right,’ he said. ‘Truth is, I just don’t know. I have some big decisions to make.’
The way his comment cut through her was as brutal as if he’d taken a filleting knife to her heart. The thought that he was just working through something, having a bit of frivolous fun beforeheading back to his life in the UK was more than Penny could tolerate. Had he just been playing along with her when they’d discussed working on a yacht together? Did he not see her as someone he could build a future with?
‘Good job I’m thinking of moving on soon, then,’ she said. ‘That way you’ll have one less bug to worry about.’ She jumped to her feet and headed for the door. ‘I need some fresh air.’
She nearly saluted, but the sadness in Harry’s expression stilled her arm, his absolute quietness made her pause, a glimmer of hope bursting through her heart that Harry might choose her. But she discarded this thought almost immediately. Instead, she sighed and left the room.
Fran told Johnny she’d think about his offer. It sounded spectacularly lame, and she covered her confusion by checking her watch, pretending she had to rush off to complete some random housekeeping task.
Johnny accepted her withdrawal without complaint. She supposed he had enough on his mind. Would he speak to his brother today, or steer clear while he allowed the weight of what he’d discovered to continue to percolate into his brain? Maybe he would call his wife, have it out with her.
Fran inched out a breath – she didn’t envy him any of those choices. If she were in his shoes, she’d probably lock the door and stay in that turret suite all day.
Maybe he’d decide the whole idea of Chateau des Rêves was far too complicated. That including Fran in his plans was too problematic. That he already had too many plates spinning to be able to add any more, already had far too much to deal with.
Maybe he’d head back to the UK to begin the painful process of separating himself from everything he thought he understood and trusted and realise it was all too challenging. Perhaps he’d leave, and she’d never see him again.
Biting back the way that thought made her feel, she shoved the housekeeping trolley against a wall and headed outside. She needed fresh air, time to think. She needed to breathe.
Red was waiting for her where the gravel gave way to the long, dry grass. It was as though he knew something had changed and that Fran wasn’t here to make a fuss of him and feed him. That this time the comfort needed to flow in the opposite direction.
With a sigh, she sank to the ground, settling with her back against the rough stone of the chateau wall and a cat nestling almost immediately in her lap. His mere presence made Fran smile, although he didn’t allow her to have it all her own way, sharp claws needling into the fabric of her skirt and pricking at her thigh his way of reminding her he needed to be stroked.
‘I know, I know. Way too slow.’ Fran wound her fingers through Red’s fur, rewarded by the now-familiar rattle as he began to purr. Time spent with Red had a way of quietening the noise, it was almost as though Fran’s heartrate slowed when she was with the animal. Red didn’t care about the bigger picture, all that mattered to him was the here and now. Not a bad way to be, she supposed.
But there was a lot more than the here and now buzzing around in Fran’s head.
‘Can I tell you something?’
Taking the silence punctuated only by Red’s rattly purr as acquiescence, Fran drew in a deep breath.
