William shook his head. “Aunty Karma called. Derek has checked into the retreat for a few weeks.”
I turned. “Like, willingly? Or did she abduct him?”
William laughed. “It’s all above board. He’s in good hands. Plus, she’s doing it for free.”
“How does she make any money?” I asked. “Indira spent two weeks there for free.”
“Believe me, she’s doing fine. She’s helped enough big-name celebrities to fill Wembley Stadium. Those who can afford to pay, pay.”
William perched himself on my desk, his leg brushing mine. “Speaking of Indira, I have bad news.”
I did not like the sound of this. She was meant to be coming to Buckford in the morning to hear my pitch.
“Is she still unwell?”
“She’s fine, but she’s heading straight back to London to be with her sister and nephew. She says if you want to pitch, you’ll have to go to her office on Friday.”
William and I exchanged glances. He hooked a finger through mine. We had a deadline now. It was time for me to go home. But it was OK—because I had a plan. If I could pull it off,we could be together at Buckford for at least part of the year, for who knows how long before we needed to worry about it again.
“I need to get back to work,” I said, squeezing his hand.
Chapter 50
William
Petey came bounding into the folly and up the stairs, face as bright and flushed as a freshly smacked arse.
“Check your email,” he said.
I was sitting at my laptop at Father’s desk, trying not to scream at a note from my accountant about urgent renovation costs that had upped the amount we needed to raise from the art auction to £13.9 million—so I was glad of the distraction. That it involved Petey looking pleased as punch was a delectable bonus.
“Is it finished?” I asked.
Petey nodded. Well, I didn’t need to be told twice. I stood decisively, yanked the cable out, snapped the laptop shut.
“I think this deserves a bigger screen, don’t you?” I said, tucking the computer under my arm.
I grabbed Petey’s hand, and we dashed barefoot through the house to the East Drawing Room, where after five minutes faffing about with cables, I was finally able to share my screen on the big TV. Then we sank into the sofa, bodies tight together, holding each other’s hands, arseholes clenched in vivid anticipation, and pressed play on the promo video. As a drone shot coming down the drive towards the house filled the screen,I was fizzing with so much excitement I farted. Two minutes later, I was so completely convinced Buckford was the ideal place for a fun family day out, I wished I had a family I could take along to see it myself.
“Well, what do you think?”
“It’s fabulous. Beyond fabulous. You can barely tell the house is a rapidly deteriorating death trap.”
“Good, because I have another surprise for you.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see. Give me a sec.”
Petey disappeared into his phone, then told me to check my email again.
“Asecondvideo?” I said. “You really are value for money. You’ve just earned yourself an excellent Google review.”
I pressed play. Buckford appeared on the screen again—this time a drone shot along the Long Water. Rousing string music filled the room, followed by a voice-over extolling the house’s five-hundred-year history, its royal visitors and Capability Brown landscape.
“That voice-over artist sounds sexy as hell.”
“It’s me.”
