Her phone rang, a headhunter from a prestigious firm in the City.
"Victoria Sullivan speaking."
"Ms Sullivan, this is Caroline Wright from Henderson Associates. I have an exciting opportunity that I think would be perfect for—"
Through the window, she caught sight of Sasha working in the herb garden, carefully transplanting what looked like basil seedlings under Cathy's watchful eye. The morning sun caught the gold in her hair, and she was frowning in concentration.
"—significant client portfolio and the sort of strategic thinking that would really—"
Sasha wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a small smudge of soil, and Victoria found herself smiling involuntarily.
"Ms. Sullivan? Are you still there?"
"Yes, sorry. Could you repeat that last part?"
Twenty minutes later, she'd somehow managed to schedule another interview while retaining absolutely no information about the actual position. This was getting ridiculous.
She forced herself to close the laptop and look away from the window. What she needed was caffeine and a stern talking-to about professional priorities. What she got was her mother appearing in the doorway with the sort of bright smile that usually preceded social obligations.
"Darling, perfect timing. Archie's brought someone for lunch, and I do think we should all make an effort."
Victoria felt a familiar sinking sensation. "Anyone I should be warned about?"
"A lovely girl called Georgina. Very… enthusiastic. She's already declared the flowers in the entrance hall to be 'aesthetically pleasing.'"
"Right." Victoria saved her work and stood up. "Let me guess, she's got opinions about the curtains too?"
"Among other things.'" Lady Charlotte's smile was diplomatic but strained. "I think your grandmother may need moral support."
LUNCH WAS SERVED on the terrace in deference to the continuing heat, and Victoria arrived to find Georgina holding court. She was precisely the type Archie always brought home: blonde, beautiful, and possessed of the sort of confident ignorance that came from never having been contradicted.
"—and I was saying to Archie that these gardens are just crying out for some modern touches," Georgina was explaining to the table at large. "Maybe some statement sculptures? Something contemporary to balance all this… heritage."
Lady Alexandra's eyebrows had climbed to her hairline. "Heritage?"
"You know, all the old-fashioned stuff. Don't get me wrong, it's very authentic, but authenticity doesn't really photograph well for the press, does it?"
Sasha caught Victoria's eye across the table and made the smallest grimace of solidarity. Victoria found herself fighting back a smile.
"I rather like authenticity," Ambrose said mildly, though his attention was clearly focused on the figure of Lukas working among the roses in the distance.
"Oh, it's fine for some people," Georgina said airily. "But honestly, haven’t we all had enough of this old stuff? Isn’t it a bit…" She waved her hand vaguely. "Dusty?"
Sir Archibald emerged from behind his newspaper long enough to fix Georgina with a stare that could have withered the topiary.
Meanwhile, Cathy appeared at Victoria's elbow with a plate of sandwiches, moving with the sort of quiet efficiency that came from years of managing family gatherings. She was, Victoria noticed, studiously avoiding looking in Archie's direction.
"Thank you, Cathy," Victoria said warmly. "Everything looks lovely."
"Mrs. Henderson's outdone herself with the salmon," Cathy replied, then moved on to serve the others.
Victoria assumed someone in the kitchen must be sick or on holiday to have Cathy stepping in at the table. She looked over at her brother. But Archie, who was deep in conversation with Georgina, didn't even glance up as Cathy refilled his water glass. Victoria felt a flash of irritation on Cathy's behalf.
"—and Sasha, darling," Lady Alexandra was saying, her voice carrying the sort of crisp authority that commanded attention, "Ambrose says you're still exploring your options career-wise? No decision yet?"
Victoria tensed, recognizing the slight edge in her grandmother's tone. This was judgment disguised as polite inquiry.
"Not yet," Sasha replied cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the trap being laid. "I'm taking time to really consider what I want to do next."
