Page 121 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

Nate’s pint stopped midway to his lips. Too neat, that.

Sammy took her time. Rose was rattling a crate of bottles behind the bar, a voice shouted out a drinks order – but Nate was watching Jimmy, noticing the way the man kept his tone light while his eyes stayed wary.

Sammy took a gulp of her wine. ‘It’s looked after,’ she said.

Nate smiled into his beer. Good answer. ‘It’s skilled work,’ he said. ‘Being a professional housekeeper takes more than most people manage in a lifetime.’

‘Didn’t say it didn’t,’ said Jimmy.

‘You implied it.’

Chloe let out a laugh. ‘Oh, come on, no one’s having a go.’

Nate took a long swallow of beer. She wasn’t all bad, Chloe; she stood up for her friend. But she didn’t understand how different Sammy’s life could be – would be, if Chloe went back to Swansea.

A shadow fell across the table. Nate glanced up. Victor. ‘She is doing well, you know. Magnus mentioned it,’ he said. ‘We were talking about the harvest supper yesterday and he said . . . well . . . he said things are running as smoothly as when Mrs Williams was in charge.’

Nate saw Sammy absorb those words, something lifting in her face.

‘Did he?’ she said.

‘Yes . . . well . . . yes, he did,’ Victor said; his attention switched to Jimmy.

‘That’s not something . . .’ Victor said, then corrected himself, smoother now. ‘You can’t say the same for everyone’s work in this village.’

Jimmy didn’t react straight away. Then he shuffled in his chair. ‘All sorts of work about,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Victor said. ‘Some of it honest.’

Jimmy reached for his pint. ‘You lot,’ Jimmy said, ‘you make it sound like I’m running a criminal empire.’

Laughter rang out from the bar; someone called for another round – but Nate wasn’t ready to let this go. He opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. Not here. Not in front of Sammy. ‘You all right?’ he whispered to her.

‘Yeah,’ she said.

Nate believed her. Mostly. He took a sip of beer, then reached for Chloe’s glass and topped it up without asking. ‘When are you heading back to Swansea, Chloe?’ he asked.

The glass paused halfway to Chloe’s mouth. ‘Sorry?’

‘When are you going? Back home?’

‘Dunno,’ Chloe said. Sharper now. ‘Why?’

Nate shrugged. ‘Seems like you’ve got things waiting for you there.’

‘Things?’ Chloe said. ‘Like what?’

He met her eyes. ‘Your life.’

A brief laugh. Defensive. ‘Right. Yeah. Cheers for that.’

‘Not a bad thing,’ Nate said. ‘Having something to go back to.’

Chloe drank, ‘We’ll see,’ she said.

Beside him, Nate sensed Sammy thinking – probably about him. About why he couldn’t start something. Or wouldn’t. He’d come close earlier this evening, before Chloe – thankfully – interrupted. He looked down at his glass. Cassandra had started like Sammy. Carefree and easy. Before she asked for more, then expected more. And even more. Until there wasn’t space for anything but her.

He glanced sideways at Sammy. Maybe she was different – but he wouldn’t risk it. Not with Chloe around – Chloe complicated things.