Page 22
“Fine,” he said, attempting to be as sensible as his dad. “I agree that I am in over my head. But surely there’s someone better suited to help us.”
“I haven’t just hired her without any thought, you know,” Dad said. “I’ve done my research. Winnie Knox has extensive experience with helping the widest variety of businesses I’ve ever seen into being highly profitable. Dental, fitness, clothing, furniture, mental health—she’s done it all. Not only that, but she also comes from the most lucrative family I’ve ever known. I have no doubt, with her abilities and determination, she will absolutely succeed.”
Matthew had never seen Dad so convinced about a person’s credentials. The way he spoke about the woman almost convinced Matthew to relent.
But Dad’s actions were personal, and Winnie being hired hurt. Matthew’s intelligence, his opinion, had been replaced in a single evening with the mere promise of a bright future and a flash of a pretty New York smile.
“So what would you have me do?” he asked, staring at the wooden floor nearby, his desire to fight slowly seeping away from him. “Stand back and let her do whatever she likes?”
Nothing sounded worse. She’d change the heart of his festival. Remove all historical accuracy. Turn it into—ugh—A Knight’s Tale.
“For the time being, yes,” Dad said. “Allow her opinions and ideas to flourish. I’m certain you’ll be glad that you did. But do not hesitate to give your advice and your expertise where it’s needed, as I’m sure she’ll be grateful for it.”
Matthew snorted in disbelief. “Yes, because consultants are known for their easy-going personalities and persuadable opinions.”
Dad ignored him. “Either way, you only have to last a matter of weeks. We’ll postpone the festival for a few weeks until it’s ready again, then she’ll be helping me with the estate.”
“Providing she proves herself,” Matthew said.
“I have no doubt that she will.”
Matthew bit his tongue to avoid delivering another derisive scoff. Of course, his reaction was only to mask the embarrassment he still felt for not being able to succeed.
“Matthew,” Dad continued, “I know this is difficult for you. But I hope you know why I’m doing it. You sacrificed so much for your family—for me—giving up your dreams the moment they were being realized so you could care for your ailing father.”
In truth, Matthew didn’t feel like his efforts had been a sacrifice, but he still felt humbled at the gratitude shining in his dad’s blue eyes.
“I want you to know how greatly I appreciate you,” Dad continued. He leaned forward, wincing as he did so. “That is the real reason I hired Winnie. I’m certain that if you listen to her ideas with an open mind, she will change our lives—and only for the better. Just give her a chance. That’s all I ask.”
It took everything within Matthew to finally nod.
Fine. He would give the consultant a chance. But if she came up with some horrendous idea that tanked the festival and made her look terrible to Dad, Matthew would have no choice but to let her dig her own grave.
Yes, that’s exactly what he would do. Then he’d get rid of her sooner, and Little Miss Winnie Knox would take her well-formed legs and dark bun and smooth skin back to New York.
Because that’s where she belonged, and he’d be sure she knew it by the end.
CHAPTER EIGHT
For the first time Winnie could remember, she didn’t wake up to her usual alarm playing “On Top of the World” by Imagine Dragons on her phone.
Instead, the silence woke her, then the gentle tapping of raindrops against her window.
She drew a deep breath, stretching slightly as her eyes fluttered open. She felt like a Disney princess, well-rested and smiling, lying down in the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept on. Her feather pillow cradled her head like a swaddled newborn babe, and her comforter rested upon her like a thick blanket of clouds.
She shouldn’t have been surprised by the quality of the bedding, what with the state of the room she was put in at Foxwood. It was in no way grand like Mr. Wintour’s study, but it was clean, quiet, well taken care of, and held everything she could possibly need.
Her queen-sized bed was centered atop a blue and gold-embellished rug, and the walls were a creamy green, holding just a few paintings of English landscapes with modest frames. A wardrobe was at one end of the room, and a good-sized desk was situated beneath the window.
Did she have a view from that window? She’d been too tired to find out the night before. She’d barely managed to stumble into her pajamas before zonking out for the entire night, barely noting that her clothing had already been unpacked, aired out, and hung up by the housekeeper.
She could do with hiring one of those, too.
She smiled to herself at her fanciful ideas. Tossing her covers aside and rushing into her slippers and robe, she stepped soundlessly toward the window and pushed back the floral curtains.
Her smile grew, and a wistful sigh slipped past her lips. From her vantage point on the second floor, beyond the raindrops dotting the window, green fields stretched across the estate’s grounds, stopped only by masses of trees so thick, Winnie wondered what secrets were kept hidden beyond the branches.
Was there a red dragon guarding an underground treasure? A magic well once charmed by Merlin himself? She wouldn’t be too surprised if either were true, given the renaissance faire she was about to attend.