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“So I’ve gathered.” He stepped back into the hallway. “Nonetheless, he was quite adamant. I’ll wait out here until you’re ready to leave.”

“Guarding me?”

“As ordered.”

She shook her head, smiling. “I won’t be long.”

She shut the door and moved through the room, into the wardrobe where there were several bathing suits with tags still attached. Her hand ran over them, from the black one-piece to the red bikini, and she eventually selected a gold one-piece with a diamond cut-out in the middle to reveal her flat midriff.

She took her time dressing, applying suntan lotion, pulling her hair into a high ponytail, before double-checking every aspect of her appearance. There had been a lightweight wrap in the wardrobe; she tied it around her waist, low, and with the knot on one hip, pinched her cheekbones, fished sunglasses from her handbag, and slid her feet into strappy gold slides.

Ready, she thought. Or was she? Could one ever truly be ready with this family?

The realisation that Hamish’s family was every bit as chaotic and unpredictable as her own had her reflecting on their different approaches to control. What else explained the way he liked to make agreements and negotiate all the rules in advance? Right down to this very practical marriage and baby arrangement. He didn’t want to risk actually dating a woman, falling in love, and getting hurt. He wanted to sanitise the experiences in life as much as possible, and she was totally on board with that.

She pulled open the door; Benson was there, as promised.

“Ready?”

She nodded. They walked in silence for a while, through the strangely quiet house. He explained that everyone else was already at the pool.

“You said lunch was being served?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She gave up on correcting him. “Do you think it’s possible to make sure there’s something non-alcoholic to drink?”

She saw him compress his lips, as if trying not to laugh. “It would certainly be bucking tradition.”

She winced. “So it’s always like that?”

“Lately, yes.”

She frowned. “Since Eleanor became ill?”

“No, ma’am, before that.” He hesitated, apparently weighing up how honest he should be then deciding to share with her. “The dynamics changed with Lord Ashcombe’s departure. His parents aren’t the kind to wax lyrical about it, but they’ve missed him terribly.”

Her chest panged. It made a lot of sense. Particularly the circumstances that required his departure—Ewan and Cressida’s betrayal. “It seems as though they accepted the, erm, transgression very quickly.”

Benson cast her a sideways glance. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

She frowned.

“And to some people, they are also everything.”

Yes, that much she knew from Hamish.

“It will get easier to spend time together, once this first visit is over.”

“I’m not sure we’ll be back that often,” she said, grimacing at the very thought. “It’s up to Hamish.” She was surprised to find herself saying that, and then, to realise it was true. If her husband wanted to come back to see his mother, or be at his ‘touchstone’, then she wasn’t going to stop him. Strange, when this wasn’t really a marriage based on anything but a desire to have a child.

“I don’t know how he’s managed to stay away so long,” Benson was saying. “He’s a part of this place, and it of him.”

It was such a romantic observation but it was also undoubtedly true. Which made his grief at his brother’s betrayal all the more profound. He’d left, stayed away, stayed celibate.

Something panged in her chest as she imagined what it would be like to love so deeply. For he must have loved Cressida with his whole entire heart to have then felt so savaged afterwards. No wonder he kept things black and white now. Contractual legalese was more than his love language, it was his survival instinct.

The pool was down a set of wide stone steps with pots of lavender and rosemary and wild-sown daisies on either side. At the bottom of the steps was a hedge-lined path which opened onto the gardens surrounding the pool. As they neared, she could hear voices talking and for the briefest moment, she was a child again, being gossiped about behind her back at school. Only she wasn’t a child and she had no reason to think they were talking about her; even if they were, it shouldn’t have mattered to her.