Chapter 25
Megan took a deep breath and set up her director’s chair on the front lawn of Treweham Hall. Laying a sheet of watercolour paper on her drawing board, she began to draw a simple outline sketch of the Hall. She wondered how long it must have taken to build, with its vast stone walls, corner turrets and sturdy buttresses. The Gothic stained-glass windows glimmered prettily in the sunlight. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed sketching and painting, not having done it for so long. Soon she was in her own world, totally absorbed capturing how regal and imposing the magnificent building was.
Megan had half expected to see Tobias at some point, but he was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t make her mind up if she was disappointed or relieved after last night. Maybe he had regrets and was avoiding her? Then, as if on cue, she saw his silver sports car coming up the gravel drive. She watched him park and walk towards her, wearing a playful grin. He looked very much the country squire with his jeans, check shirt and Barbour jacket. ‘And how are you this morning?’ His eyes danced with mischief. Obviously not avoiding her, and no regrets.
‘Fine, thank you, and you?’ she answered with as much bravado as she could muster. Then, seeing he was about to look at her drawing, she quickly stopped him. ‘No, don’t look yet.’
‘Oh, why?’ He looked disappointed.
‘It’s too early,’ she pressed.
He shrugged. ‘OK. Come on, it’s lunchtime.’
Megan packed up her things and put them into her car. She’d been sketching for three hours and was glad of a rest. Following Tobias into the back of the Hall, she was once more amazed by the place. They passed through the enormous kitchen, where Tobias ordered sandwiches and tea to be served in the drawing room. It felt surreal to Megan. A few months ago, if someone had predicted her sitting in a stately hall drawing room, sipping tea with a handsome aristocrat, she would have laughed out loud. Yet here she was, sitting next to Tobias on the Chesterfield sofa in front of the marble fireplace, staring at the priceless artwork.
‘Thanks,’ he said to the housekeeper, who had swiftly delivered salmon and cream cheese sandwiches and a pot of Earl Grey tea. Megan noted every last detail, from the fine bone-china crockery to the way the sandwiches were cut into small triangles. She pictured the doorstep jam butties she regularly made and again her lips twitched.
Tobias was watching her. ‘What’s making you smile?’ He passed her a cup of tea and handed her a plate of sandwiches.
‘All this, I suppose.’ She glanced around the room. He frowned. ‘I mean… well, it’s so different from what I’m used to. It’s another world to me.’
‘It needn’t be.’ Now she frowned. Tobias continued, ‘It’s just stone and mortar, like your cottage.’ It bothered him that she felt in awe of the Hall. He so wanted her to feel at ease, more at home with the place, not hover on the periphery like an anxious guest. ‘With all this grandeur comes the cost and worry of running it.’
Didn’t it just. He was beginning to lose sleep over the cost of the Hall.
‘Yes, I suppose it must,’ Megan replied quietly. She recalled the conversation she had had with Finula about the responsibility Tobias must carry and felt a little humbled. He was right, it was just stone and mortar. The fact he had been born into an aristocratic family with a title and estate was purely chance. Although he lived in a stately hall, it was, to all intents and purposes, still just a home to him. He must tire of people like her judging. He had an obligation to all his staff, too, not to mention the tenants in the village. She looked at him and for once didn’t see the playboy, the wild child he so often had been portrayed as, but a man born into a system that dictated honour, duty and commitment. Megan suspected he did worry about money, judging by his demeanour whilst he had been watching Dylan at Newmarket. He must have had a lot riding on that race. All this made her life seem so simple and straightforward. Like Tobias, she had been bequeathed her home, but she didn’t have the same pressure of managing it.
He was gazing at her deep in thought. God, she was beautiful. Her forehead had furrowed slightly and her brown almond-shaped eyes held a pensive expression. Her fringe fell into them. He tenderly swept it to one side with his fingers so he could look into her face. For once, she didn’t tense, which was progress. ‘What are you thinking, Megan?’ he softly asked.
‘About you, and how hard it must be at times.’
The answer surprised him. ‘You mean living here?’
‘In a way. It’s down to you to keep the whole show ticking over. People rely on you. It must be…’
‘It must be what?’ He ran the side of his hand down her face. Megan felt that tingling sensation start to return.
‘It must be stressful, knowing so much is hinging on you,’ she replied, trying to concentrate. His hand cupped her chin, whilst he bent forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
Then he straightened and replied, ‘Yes, there is a degree of pressure, but nothing I can’t handle. Anyway, I won’t be here for the foreseeable future.’ He was exaggerating, testing the water to see how she’d react. Her look of alarm answered his question and gave his ego a satisfying boost.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked sharply.
‘I’m renovating a house, thought I’d live in it whilst working there. Get the job done quicker.’
‘Oh,’ she sounded deflated, making him smile.
‘I won’t be far away.’
‘I see,’ she replied flatly. He’d got the reaction he wanted, so came clean.
‘It’s Ted’s cottage. The estate owns it. We rented it to Ted as an almshouse years ago. He was in need of a place to stay and the cottage was free. My father was happy to help him.’
‘Really? You mean—’
‘We’ll be neighbours, Megan,’ he replied with a grin. Megan’s mouth opened in astonishment. He nudged her chin up to close it. ‘Drink up, Megan, your tea’s getting cold.’
