Page 35
“That’s putting it mildly,” Eleanor agreed, but in a no-nonsense way Tia appreciated. She snapped the locket shut. “Beautiful photo; I’d like a larger copy when you have a chance.”
“Of course.”
“Mother,” Hamish said sharply.
Eleanor came close to rolling her eyes then pasted a smile on her face. “Thank you for the locket, dear Tia. It’s quite special. I appreciate the thought.”
Once more, she was swept from the room and found that she was holding her breath. Perhaps this was just how she’d have to exist whilst at Hamish’s family home. The tension in every room seemed thick enough to slice with a knife—and even then, only with difficulty.
Chapter Nine
TIA HAD SEEN ENOUGH EPISODES OF Downton Abbey to get the picture. This wasn’t just a beautiful old home and an aristocratic family. It was fancy with a capital ‘f’. Royal family fancy. The sort of family where everyone was expected to ‘dress’ for dinner and ‘dress’ meant almost a ball gown.
“I had some things sent out from London,” he said, gesturing to the enormous wardrobe that housed a selection of women’s clothing still boasting tags from Harrods and Selfridges.
Tia spun to face him, frowning. They’d spent the afternoon not talking about anything important, because she’d been able to tell that he needed that. A break. A rest from the way his family made him feel, and the complexities of their relationship. So even when she wanted to push him and find out so much more about their family dynamics, she’d let him talk about the features of the property, showing her his favourite places. The citrus grove was quite stunning, and as for the outdoor pool! Well. She’d imagined something quite mundane from Benson’s throwaway reference, but the oasis Hamish took her to was a glorious throwback to the decadent Twenties, with large sandstone pavers, and a bricked wall at one end, overgrown with ivy except where a fountain spurted water back into the pool. It was long and deep, a perfect crystal blue, so she knew that at some point, if she could possibly escape the awkwardness of the house, she would come and take a dip. How could she not, when the heat was so oppressive.
They’d wandered the estate for so long that the sun was dipping low in the sky when he’d glanced back up at the house and said, regretfully, “We should head in. It’s almost cocktail hour.”
She’d thrown him a quizzical expression, to which he’d replied, “It should be fun.”
“We need to get you a dictionary,” she’d responded caustically. “I’m not sure your family’s familiar with the definition of the word.”
He laughed. “You can teach them.”
“Or you and your mother can?” She ran her eyes over his face. “I liked seeing the two of you together.”
“You didn’t find her to be a rude, stuck-up bitch?”
“I mean, a little, but I kind of liked it. I’d prefer honesty to whatever Ewan is.”
Hamish sighed heavily, looked back more intently at the house, scanning it as if his brother might appear at one of the windows. “Yeah, that’s more complicated.”
“Your mom seems kind of partial to him.”
“She values appearances.”
“I see. And a family at war isn’t the kind of image she wants to portray.”
“It’s less appealing for those photoshoots,” he agreed.
Tia followed his gaze, tracing the roofline of the place. It was quite enormous, and immaculately kept. Unlike a lot of old British families, inheritance tax had clearly not been an issue for the Ashcombes.
“You must have found it hard to leave all this.”
He threw her a look. “The circumstances required it.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question.”
He breathed out. “It was hard, and it was necessary.” His brow furrowed. “I took this place for granted. I used to think of it as an anchor and now I wonder if it wasn’t more of a touchstone. I think it became a part of me more than I understood, at the time.”
“The callousness of youth,” she responded.
“Sadly, I wasn’t that young.”
Now she jabbed him with her hip, a little playful, and if she were honest, almost teasing. “Tell me about after.”
“After what?”
