The edges of a smile crept onto Sebastian’s face, tickling further when the dog stared up at her, tongue lolling as it huffed and puffed and remained resolutely on all four paws. The woman frowned and said something under her breath to the dog, the gist of which was completely obvious even if the words were unintelligible.
Sebastian sensed his mother was about to speak, and he could imagine whatever she was about to say wouldn’t necessarily be favourable, so he stepped forward, hand extended.
‘I’m Sebastian – and you seem to have the advantage over me. Are you here with Mrs Keel?’
The frown on the young woman’s face intensified, and she looked even more anxious as she stared at his hand as though it was unexploded ordnance. Eventually she took both a deep breath and his hand, shaking the latter firmly.
‘Mrs Keel was here when I arrived. She gave me a quick tour and said that now I’d arrived she should head home to the village. She left a while ago. I’m Jess – Jess Wight. I’ve come from the Home From Home agency. There was a bit of a delay with the trains, and I only got here a few hours ago. I’m your temporary housekeeper and cook.’ She bit at the edge of her bottom lip, then said, ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’
‘We seem to have crossed the Atlantic while nobody was looking.’ Sebastian’s mother kept her tone as cold as the space they were standing in.
Olivia sighed. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, they say it all over the world. Even in the Highlands.’
‘Well, I still think it sounds disingenuous.’
‘It’s a universally used phrase, as well you know. And I arranged for her to be here. I thought it would be nice to have someone to look after us, especially you, Mummy.’
The fact that Olivia had sourced a new housekeeper without telling anyone didn’t surprise Sebastian, but he would have hoped she might have had more sensitivity than to employ such a beautiful young woman after what had happened with the last one. It was no surprise his mother’s spine had tightened and her words were becoming increasingly acidic; Jess’s presence must be pushing all manner of buttons. He did his best to block out his mother and sister’s bickering, instead focusing on the warmth of Jess’s expression, the way a stray strand of her hair whispered against her jaw as she gave him a tentative smile.
‘Thank you. It’s been a difficult time for us all,’ he said.
‘I can only imagine.’ Jess kept her gaze on him, too. ‘Mrs Keel said she would light the fire in the drawing room before she left. Would you like me to bring the tea in there?’
‘That would be fantastic, thank you.’ The thought of a room warmed by a roaring fire lifted Sebastian’s spirits for the first time since he’d heard the news about his father.
Jess hesitated, chewing at her bottom lip again. ‘Um … Could I ask, where exactlyisthe drawing room?’
With her internal map of the house more firmly fixed by Sebastian’s clear directions, Jess headed back the way she’d come and regrouped in the kitchen. She’d just shaken hands with Sebastian Barclay-Brown. The twenty-second Earl of Kirkshield – as of about ten days ago, when his father had unexpectedly passed away.
Not that Jess had ever been particularly impressed by the idea of the aristocracy. In fact, as far as she could work out from the history she’d studied at school, and the information stored within theHorrible Historiesbooks she’d adored as a kid, most of these people had gained their huge houses and lands from sucking up to royalty and treating the locals like dirt.
However, the aristocracy also tended to be the ones with all the cash, and like most people in the world, Jess needed to earn a living.
And with Digby-Dog in tow, her placement choices had been limited. In fact, Kirkshield Castle had been the only option: it was the only place willing to accept a temporary housekeeper with added dog. And there was no way Jess was abandoning Digby. She’d promised Vivi she would look after him while she recovered from her accident, and that’s exactly what she intended to do. There wasn’t much Jess wouldn’t do for Vivi, truth be told. After all, Vivi had been the one who had provided Jess with stability, unconditional love and a long-term home after she’d bounced from foster placement to foster placement as a kid. Vivi had also scooped Jess up again when her attempts at a career as a singer had fallen flat, and provided Jess with employment in her temping agency for household staff – and, inadvertently, a best friend in agency administrator, Amina. It suited Jess well, moving from place to place, never putting down roots – her whole childhood had been like that until Vivi had appeared on the scene, and her aunt remained the only fixed point in Jess’s life.
The Barclay-Browns had been so desperate to find a housekeeper willing to do some cooking to tide them over during the Christmas period that there hadn’t even been a formal interview. Apparently, they were happy to accept Jess solely on the agency’s recommendation. Or perhaps it was that the family didn’t much carewhowas doing the work for them, so long assomeonewas doing it.
In the castle kitchen she pulled the tray of freshly baked scones from the Aga, swearing under her breath at the amount of colour they’d caught in the time she’d been away. Scratching around in the huge dresser stacked with crockery, Jess found a cake stand for her sponge, which seemed to have sighed and fallen in the centre since she’d left the room. With an extra dollop of buttercream smothered into the sunken layers to hide the dip as best she could, the cake looked presentable enough. She slid the warm scones onto an oval plate with a similar design to the cake stand. She would bring the food through once she’d delivered the tea and crockery.
With tea brewing in a large pot, cups and saucers stacked next to some small plates and a jug of milk all on one tray, Jess headed for the drawing room, instructing Digby-Dog to stay put.
Instead, he threaded his way past her, and she lost sight of him beneath the large tray. He must have paused right in front of her, because before she could work out where he’d gone, her foot made contact with a warm, furry obstacle robust enough to take the forward momentum out of her step. The weight of the tray carried her forwards, but without a foot to balance the burden. There was a split-second in which she knew it was all going to end badly, and then she was staggering her way across the flagstones, desperately trying to hold on to the tray, while the teapot, milk jug and piles of cups, saucers and plates spilled and smashed across the floor in the almightiest crescendo of noise.
Chapter 2
Sebastian had been deep in thought when he heard what sounded like a distant crash of crockery. He bent to add a log to the fire from the huge wicker basket. Mrs Keel had done a grand job laying the kindling; heat already radiated from the first few logs in the fireplace. With the log added to the inferno, he glanced at the others.
Across the room, and deep in conversation about Candida’s next writing project, none of them had registered the noise. He supposed he was closest to the door, left ajar to make it easier for tea to be brought in. But, after what he’d heard, Sebastian thought it fair to assume tea might be somewhat delayed.
‘Back in a minute,’ he said to nobody in particular, pulling the door closed behind him. It was typical of Olivia to employ someone with little more, it seemed, than a cursory check of their credentials, but her lack of sensitivity where their mother was concerned had surprised him.
He would need to find a way to speak to his sister – to make her understand. Or perhaps it would be simpler to let the housekeeper go. Find fault with her work and send her packing as soon as possible. Looking at her day after day would be such a cruel reminder for his mother.
Plus, a housekeeper from a temp agency must be costing a small fortune – one which the Kirkshield Estate coffers would struggle to cover.
He headed through the picture gallery in the direction of the kitchen. Kirkshield Castle had stood on this Highland spot in one form or another for more centuries than Sebastian cared to count, but in its present incarnation much of it dated to a relatively more modern eighteenth century. Still, the weird comparisons it seemed to draw to modern life never failed to amaze him. The picture gallery was huge, large enough to be used as a banqueting hall or to hold a ball, but its original purpose was to do nothing more than house all the portraits of family members. Many of them still hung there, forever immortalised by the brushes of the favoured artist of the time. A bit like the gallery of photos held on his mobile phone, except those were immortalised forever in a digital cloud, the machinations of which Sebastian was sure he wouldn’t ever understand.
Nearest the arched passageway leading to the working part of the castle was the portrait of his father, suited and booted and with his customary glare caught perfectly by the artist.
