“What about your parents?” Jonathan asks brightly, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Where do they live?”
“Australia. They retired there,” I say, brushing aside this line of questioning with a wave of my hand. “You said one of your dogs, how many do you have?”
“My parents have four. Three springer spaniels and then Gus, a black Labrador. I imagine Cordelia’s told you all about him. She and Gus have a special bond. He adores her, follows her around everywhere when we’re at my parents’.”
“That’s so lovely. You must miss them here in London.”
“My parents or the dogs?”
“Both.” I laugh.
“Certainly, but we see them as much as we can. I don’t think Cordelia can be away from Gus too long.” He finishes his pint. “So, are you looking forward to this weekend?”
“Yes, although I’m a bit nervous. I’ve seen so many pictures of Dashwell Hall—it seems a bit surreal to be going there.”
“I know what you mean. I was the same when I first went,” he says, nodding vigorously. “But Nicholas and Victoria are so welcoming, you sort of forget where you are. They’ll put you at ease, don’t worry.”
“I’m sure,” I say, taking the last sip of my wine and putting the empty glass down.
“Right! Shall we go shopping?” He runs a hand through his hair. “Where on earth do you think we should start?”
“Actually, I think I may have an idea. You’ve given me some inspiration.”
His face lights up. “Really? What is it?”
“Well, it’s something personal,” I begin, “and it doesn’t involve any shopping whatsoever.”
“In that case, I’m in,” he says, without hesitation. “Let’s get another round in to celebrate a good job well done!”
“Don’t you want to hear the idea first?” I ask. “You might not like it!”
“Nonsense. I bet it’s perfect. I knew you’d be the person to ask, Emily.” He grins at me, waving over the barman. “I just knew it.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mum can tell I’m nervous about something. Ever since I arrived for Dad’s birthday with a wheelie case and a vague story about visiting a friend for the weekend, she’s been asking me hundreds of questions about the “friend” and why I haven’t mentioned the trip in advance. I’d love to tell her I’m spending the weekend with the Marquess and Marchioness of Meade at their stately home, Dashwell Hall, but I can’t.
“You seem on edge,” she says to me, filling Dad’s wineglass.
“I’m not. Why would I be?”
“I’m not sure. But you are. You’re doing that thing you do when you get nervous.”
“What thing?”
“Playing with your earlobe.”
“What?” I drop my hand into my lap from where I was twisting the butterfly of my earring round and round. “No, I’m not.”
Mum gasps, her eyes widening. “You’ve met someone!”
“Mum—”
“You have, I can tell!” she says excitedly, as Dad rolls his eyes. “Are you going for a long weekend away together? That’s got to be it! Why else would you be so nervous and not tell me any details?”
“Mum, I told you, I’m going away with a friend. Someone you don’t know. Her name is Emily. Anyway, it’s not important.”
“Sure, sure,” she says, taking her place at the table. “I hopeyou have a lovely time with yourfriend.Don’t worry, I won’t ask any more personal questions.”
