True to his word, Rufus never had returned to The Laurels. Alice had, but not in the way Fletcher had wished. He had longed to speak with her, but feared it may make things harder for Alice. Instead, he sat it out with an agonising hope she’d come to him.
A month after the midsummer ball, she had called unexpectedly one Sunday afternoon. Her face was pale and she looked exhausted.
‘Alice!’ Fletcher had cried when the housekeeper had shown her into the drawing room. He’d run towards her, then stopped short at seeing her hesitation.
She’d looked at him, then declared in a flat tone, ‘I’m pregnant.’
Fletcher had frozen.
‘Is it mine?’ he’d asked, hoping and praying for her to confirm it was.
‘I don’t know,’ she’d replied.
‘But… the timing…’
Her eyes had filled. ‘It could be yours, but it could easily be Rufus’s too. That night he… he forced himself on me—’ She’d broken off in tears.
Fletcher’s hands had clenched to fists. He could willingly throttle that brother of his.
‘But… a paternity test, that will—’
‘Show that the baby’s a Hendricks,’ Alice had sobbed. ‘You’re brothers, Fletcher, the result mightn’t be cast iron, and how do you think Rufus would react?’ Her body had sunk in despair onto the chair.
At that moment, Fletcher knew. A stark realisation had punched him in the gut. She wasn’t leaving Rufus. All Alice could offer him was a close relationship with the child that was born eight months later.
It was never discussed again. A silent understanding had been reached; he’d never breathe a word on the matter, and in turn, Alice would make sure her son would know his ‘uncle’ as closely as a father.
Whose son Jasper actually was remained unknown.
Chapter 33
‘Welcome to Drumlanrig Castle, one of the finest examples of late seventeenth-century Renaissance architecture in Scotland,’ boasted the tour guide with a wide smile.
Adira stood towards the back of the small group in the marbled hall. Her eyes followed the sweeping curved staircase. A huge chandelier shimmered elegantly, sending spotlights across the pale walls, where family portraits hung, glaring down at the intrusive visitors. The tour guide had every right to be smug. Drumlanrig Castle was indeed a splendid place, with its pinkish sandstone, beautiful architecture, furniture and paintings. As the small party wandered from room to room, the guide kept them interested with stories of the family and their ancestors.
Adira enjoyed the tour. She loved historic houses and listening to their past. Afterwards, she strolled round the country park and Victorian gardens, before deciding to have a coffee in the tearoom. Settling down at a table, she checked her phone for any messages. There was one. With excited anticipation, she quickly opened it.
Oh, it was Rory from the chambers. Adira attempted to shrug off her disappointment as she read his short message.
Well, Reggie boy’s got his comeuppance!
Adira grinned, remembering it was Rory who had taken over the Sir Reginald Demsy case. It looked like things hadn’t quite gone to Sir Reginald’s plan. Good, she thought. Serves him right. Curiosity got the better of her and she texted back.
Oh dear, what did he end up with?
A moment later, her phone bleeped.
Wife got straight 50% cut of everything and remains on the company board of directors.
Good for his wife, he won’t like that.
Adira responded, laughing inside.
Neither did his bit of skirt!
Adira chuckled. She missed Rory. For a fleeting moment, she questioned her actions. Had she done the right thing, packing in her job? Then shook herself. Of course she had. Not once had she regretted leaving London and her career when in Lilacwell.
But that’s because Jasper was there, a sneaky voice taunted her.
