Chapter 1
For an elderly dog supposedly plagued with arthritis, Digby could move like greased lightning when it suited him. Jess had only turned her back on him for a moment – maybe two – and he’d gone and disappeared.Again.
And in a place the size of Kirkshield Castle, it might take her forever to find the little so-and-so.
‘Digby, where have you gone now?’ After slamming the Aga door closed on a batch of scones and checking on the sponge cake she’d slid onto a cooling rack on the huge oak table a while earlier, Jess dumped the oven mitts and headed out along the corridor, hoping to catch sight of the tufty beige miscreant. Failing that, maybe she’d hear the patter of his gnarled claws on the flagstone flooring, or the snort of his compromised airways echoing around the fifteen-foot-high ceilings.
Dogs were supposed to be charming. Bouncy and fun and waggy. Typical, then, that she’d managed to end up with the grubbiest, naughtiest and – to be brutally honest – smelliest dog she’d ever met. Jess remained convinced the cockapoo wasn’t anywhere near this badly behaved when his real owner, her aunt Vivi, was around. Although, to be fair, the dog had always been a bit smelly. His breath could probably floor a Russian dictator, should one be unfortunate enough to take a direct whiff.
They’d only been at Kirkshield Castle for a matter of a few hours, and Digby had wasted no time making exploration of this new territory his number one priority. The dog might have a better sense of direction than Jess did, but he had very little in the way of social graces – and she didn’t need the new earl’s first impression of her to be through the lens of her smelly, snorty, cockapoo companion.
Jess had become familiar with the vagaries of being a temporary housekeeper: the way she was constantly on the move and never fully got to grips with any of the places she ended up working. Her nomadic lifestyle might not suit everyone, but she’d perfected the art of arriving somewhere new, getting into the kitchen, baking something tasty almost immediately and sliding into favour on the back of a sugary treat. Although this was her first deployment with added dog.
She heard a sudden volley of barks, followed by a choking intercostal wheezing, then further barks and finally Jess located Digby in a huge room at the front of the castle. With his front feet pressed up against the ancient glass of an arched window, and his back feet making small indents in the delicate fabric of a window-seat cushion, he continued to bark.
‘Down, Digby-Dog.Get down.’ Jess may as well have been talking to herself for all the impact she had on the dog. His barking was becoming increasingly fervent, hackles rising, tail flailing at some perceived danger. From the sound of the little dog, the driveway must be inundated by an army of the undead, at the very least. A thousand orcs with some dragons as backup. Maybe even the postman.
Pulling her sleeve over her hand, Jess wiped at the Digby-condensation on the rippled glass and peered through it. The failing light of late afternoon made it difficult to see precisely what was happening outside, but the large vehicle Digby had heard had all its doors open, with people milling around it in the semi-darkness. There was a crunch of gravel, car doors slamming and raised voices as the engine revved, then the car disappeared sedately into the sludgy grey of a heavy early-December fog. The passengers headed for the castle’s main entrance; the darkness after the car’s headlights had faded only momentary before the bright beam of the security light flashed on.
Finally, it dawned on Jess – the family were here. A familiar trickle of anxiety at meeting a new employer washed its way across her. Would they like her? Would she like them? Her nerves were compounded by the realisation she hadn’t completed her preparations.
‘Nothing’s ready for them,’ she said to the empty space moments ago occupied by Digby. He’d already scuttled off along the corridor in the direction of the main hallway and was far enough away to ignore her final admonishment. ‘And it’s all your fault.’
After Sebastian slammed the car door, he hoisted a large black umbrella above their heads, doing his best to draw the heavy, black raglan coat he’d hidden inside all day closer around himself. It was bloody freezing outside; as he shouldered open the castle door, bone-deep damp cold from the fog wrapped itself around him equally as tightly as the coat. The temperature didn’t seem to register as being any higher once they were inside.
How anyone was supposed to call this place home when it was always icy cold was beyond him.
Kirkshield Castle, hereditary seat of the earl of the same name, might boast some stunning Scottish parkland and beautiful views over the village of Kirkshield, multiple reception rooms important enough to have been noted in various historical publications, and a series of stone battlements and gargoyles surrounding the roof, but what it didn’t have was an effective heating system.
Where Sebastian was concerned, a warm welcome had always been outside the remit of the family home. In more ways than one.
He supposed he should have been pleased his father had chosen to make stringent plans for his own funeral sometime in the past, and all Sebastian had had to do was attend the lavish wake which had taken place at the castle the previous day. Top-flight caterers from Inverness, free-flowing Dom Pérignon and a Sheildaig Scotch had ensured his father’s closest compatriots had raised more than a few glasses to ‘good old Henry’ while Sebastian had done his best not to clench his jaw so hard he gave himself a headache. Once the final four-by-four and oversized Jaguar had finally veered away down the driveway, all that was left was a quarter of an inch of single malt in a bottle and the huge invoice. And the actual interment at the local church, from which they’d just returned.
‘Thank God that’s over.’
Sebastian’s mother, Dee, drew immaculate black gloves from her elegant fingers as she spoke, adding another swirl of cold air to the already frigid space as she swept past him.
Behind his mother came Sebastian’s older sister, Olivia, accompanied by Candida, her closest friend. Even though the rest of the family knew their relationship was far more than a friendship, their father’s attitude had driven any reference to the truth underground. Sebastian smiled at Candida – it was amazing she’d stuck around so long. He supposed she must really love his sister, to be prepared to spend so much time pretending.
‘It’s a shame Freya and Christian couldn’t come back to the house,’ Olivia remarked, earning herself a sharp look from her mother.
‘They had a flight to catch,’ Dee said, unfastening the top few buttons of her long black wool coat. ‘My grandchildren to return to. Far more important than coming back here for tea and cake.’
‘I asked Freya to keep her eyes open for my latest book – it’s supposed to be going into airports this month,’ Candida said.
‘That’s wonderful news,’ Sebastian said.
Battling with the idea that he would be expected to jettison the warmth of his coat at any moment, his fingers were still hovering against the buttons when his attention was taken by an unfamiliar snuffling noise, accompanied by the clicking of what sounded like claws.
There hadn’t been any dogs in the house since his father’s beloved but unbelievably aged black Labrador had finally shuffled off this mortal coil the previous year, but the approaching noises weren’t dissimilar to the last memories Sebastian had of Atticus. He turned, half expecting the ghost of his father’s old dog to round the corner – possibly followed by an otherworldly vision of the father they’d only just buried. Instead, an utterly unfamiliar small dog shot into the entrance hallway, orangish-beige and with fluffy tufted fur bouncing in all directions. The dog made a beeline for his ankles, barking furiously as it approached, then snuffling at his shoes.
He was so preoccupied by the dog circling his legs that Sebastian failed to notice another arrival in the entrance hallway until she spoke.
‘I am so sorry – I couldn’t stop him. Digby-Dog, will youcome here?!’
The edge of desperation in her words had Sebastian straightening, taking in the owner of the voice for the first time. Light-brown hair was caught back from her face in a loose ponytail, and there was an anxious expression framing her pale blue – no, they were grey – eyes and tightening her lips into a nervous smile. The young woman, another total stranger, just like her dog, finally gained the animal’s attention and dragged him away.
‘Sit,’ she said, with a forlorn edge to the attempted gravitas.
