‘But why doesn’t Max take over from him?’ Fletcher was a stickler for keeping property in the family, especially farms. In his eyes that was a must, passing down from father to son.
‘Max is too busy with his forge. I suspect he’s getting a cut from the sale.’
‘But can you afford it? We’ve only just started our business.’ Adira eyed him carefully. Did he look a tad uncomfortable?
‘We can… if—’
‘If what?’ she interrupted, suddenly becoming wary.
Jasper sighed. ‘If we don’t have a big summer wedding.’ A short silence followed. Shit. He’d anticipated saying all this tonight. Not in the car with Fletcher listening. ‘Looking at the accounts this morning made me realise just how much the cost and the timing will affect us. We’ve really got to make the summer months count, Adira, pack as many people in as possible. Having a wedding in the middle of it all will wipe out precious income.’
‘Oh, right.’
He put his hand on her lap. ‘You do see, don’t you? If we postpone the wedding, the cash projection would mean we could expand the business.’
‘And buy The Cobbled Courtyard?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded.
Adira sat back in her seat and considered it all. Did she really want a big summer wedding anyway? Trawling through those magazines had been a nightmare, in all honesty. She glanced sideways at Jasper, his face set in determination. He really wanted this business opportunity, she could tell. A simple classy ceremony, without any fuss and bother rather appealed to her. She pictured them holding hands, exchanging vows in The Laurels’ orangery, surrounded by just immediate family, and she relaxed. That tense, tightening feeling in her chest eased up. A hassle-free wedding. She liked the sound of that.
‘I don’t think we should postpone the wedding,’ she said. Jasper’s shoulders dropped. ‘Let’s get married as soon as possible, a nice quiet affair.’
He turned to face her and couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. ‘You sure?’
‘Yes. Let’s do it.’
‘Good. That’s settled then,’ Fletcher cheered from the back seat.
Chapter 7
Rory was packing his case, looking forward to a mini-break. He’d emailed Adira and told her he was visiting Lilacwell. She’d offered to accommodate him, but when he’d explained he was staying at the inn, her jaunty reply of ‘Of course you are!’ made him smile wryly to himself. Later on reflection, it made him think. Did that jovial remark really mean ‘of course you are, because you fancy seeing Cassie’ or was it simply a casual remark on him wanting a little luxury? Then, with his barrister’s interrogation head on, if it was the first, wouldn’t that be slightly inappropriate, given Cassie was in a relationship? Adira wasn’t the sort to want to come between a couple. Perhaps he was overthinking it. In any event, he intended to enjoy a few days of peace and tranquillity in the country, away from all the attention the protesters were attracting.
Luckily, he had completed all the other cases which he’d been working on, leaving him with just them to concentrate on. He half thought that it had been a deliberate move by Nigel Kerfoot, not to allocate him any more briefs. It was exactly the kind of instruction he would give; the sneaky swine was hedging his bets. The activists’ case could either be a rip-roaring success, putting his chambers in a glorious light, or an unmitigated disaster, dragging them all down by association. Leaving Rory without any continuing briefs meant he could be disposed of quickly, if need be. Rory could read him like a book. He was aware of how other barristers had been treated by the Head before, often unfairly. Equally, those in favour would receive the ‘Nigel perks’, such as dinners at The Ivy, or tickets for a West End play. Of course, they usually involved the more attractive ladies, or those in the old boys’ network, of which Rory was most decidedly not a member.
The more Rory considered his working environment, the more he questioned it. True, his barrister’s salary had provided well, giving him his comfortable apartment in a leafy north London quarter. He drove an Audi TT Convertible which he hoped didn’t appear too flash, but was unable to resist buying at the time. His parents had been so proud when he first got his position at Goldgate Chambers. They still were, especially when seeing their son on the news, fighting for a good cause. Rory had been born into a working-class family and had had a modest but happy upbringing. He was the youngest of three boys and the brightest by far. His father made sure his cleverest son received the best possible education and had sent him to the local grammar school in Lancaster. Here, Rory had flourished and gone on to graduate at Lancaster University with a first in law, going from strength to strength until finally moving to London.
Initially, Rory had hated the capital. It was a far cry from the historical city of Lancaster where he called home. It was far too busy, noisy, dirty and expensive. It was unfriendly, with everybody dashing about the place in a hurry. He appreciated the museums, and that was about it. Most weekends he’d travel back up north, but as work increased and took over, Rory had to spend all his spare time buried in law books and paperwork.
He’d had two relationships since moving to London. The first was a girl from the north too, which made a refreshing change, but she’d planned to go backpacking for a year, putting an end to things. Then there’d been Sonya, not his usual type, being a leggy blonde with a posh drawl, but she’d struck him as quite down to earth, despite her middle-class background. It was never destined to be a long-term affair, especially given the way her mother had doomed him from the start. His Lancashire accent hadn’t cut the mustard, however his job did, so he was granted some reprieve. After a rather disastrous family meal, ‘a simple kitchen supper, nothing too elaborate’, he admitted defeat and called it a day; apparently passing bread rolls the wrong way and drinking out of the wrong glass proved too much for her mother, in the same way her ‘elbows off the table, Rory’, proved too much for him.
He was single and lonely in London, so it hadn’t surprised Rory that after a trip back home, he’d met someone who he thought was just right. Miss Wright. The way they’d connected was seamless, each making the other laugh, both interested in what they had to say. He definitely got the impression she was attracted to him, not that he was overconfident, but her demeanour spoke volumes, the way she was discreetly sizing him up. Rory was used to female attention, he knew the signs and Cassie was most certainly giving them. Until he mentioned where he lived; then it all came to an abrupt holt and bang, the door was firmly shut. Her body language became rigid and all eye contact ceased. He’d been staggered and tried hard not to show his disappointment when she’d suddenly decided to mention her boyfriend. Up until then she’d given no hint of one. The change in her behaviour had been too extreme and it had been a bit of an enigma – one he was determined to solve.
*
It was Friday. Cassie knew that instantly on waking, because a tingly anticipation filled her. Today was the day. Rory was arriving at the hotel. Cool, calm and professional – that was her mantra, yet inside she felt anything but. In her head she’d built it up too much and now she needed to settle her nerves. It was just a case of putting things in perspective, that’s what she kept telling herself.
Cassie had tried to get hold of Adira over the past few days, but her friend had been too busy with Jasper. She’d promised to catch up soon, but things were too hectic at the moment. Cassie had sensed a slightly secretive tone to Adira’s voice, like she was hiding something. She’d so desperately wanted to ask her about Rory staying but hadn’t been given the chance and, as a result, she was still clueless as to why he was visiting.
As weekends go, it was going to be a busy one. The Inn was completely booked and Cassie was glad of the distraction; she wanted to be as preoccupied as possible. She’d noticed that Rory had booked in for dinner each night. They’d put him in the secluded alcove by the inglenook fire, knowing that most people dining alone didn’t like to be on show in the middle of the room.
They’d had barristers from London staying at the Inn before, working on High Court cases in Preston, but something told Cassie that Rory wasn’t coming there for business. He was currently representing the climate protesters in Goldgate, so it was unlikely he’d be needed up north. Cassie was more than curious.
As she went downstairs, her eyes did the usual sweep of the building, making sure all was well, clean and tidy. Breakfasts were being served and there was a hub of activity. Soon, the dining area would be empty and the staff would then clear the tables for lunch.
Cassie was busy on her feet all morning and by the time late afternoon rolled around, all the hotel guests had checked in, apart from Rory. Every so often she’d peek out of a window looking onto the car park at the front, to see if there was any sign of him. She was in reception when her phone bleeped with a text message from Adira.
Hi, free tonight? Guess who’s staying with you?
