And the Bride Wore Prada (6 page)

Dominic didn’t bother to point out that they were in the middle of the Scottish bloody highlands, surrounded by snow with another foot on the way, and that the likelihood of pulling off even a scaled-down version of the dream wedding his bride-to-be wanted was slim to non-existent.

But he’d learnt to pick his battles. And this, he decided resignedly, wasn’t one of them.

‘Good thinking, babes,’ he told her instead, and leant forward to kiss her.

Helen heard the sound of smooching, followed by more smooching, and Gemma’s giggles. She winced. Dear
God
, but this was excruciating...

‘C’mon, Gems,’ Dominic growled, ‘let’s go upstairs and christen our bedroom again.’

‘But, Dom,’ her voice was scandalized ‘we can’t! It’s practically the middle of the day! We’re supposed to mix and mingle with the others. They’ll wonder where we’ve gone to—’

‘Screw ’em,’ he said, and smacked her on the bottom. ‘They can mix and mingle with each other for a bit. Let’s you and I go and make a baby.’

When they’d disappeared up the stairs to their rooms, Helen re-emerged from the shadows and wondered what she ought to do. She needed to call Tom, and soon; but she hadn’t anything to tell him, really.

Besides, she couldn’t very well call him on the house phone, in the middle of the great hall of Draemar Castle.

As she hovered indecisively at the foot of the staircase, Wren appeared, striding briskly towards the baize door that led to the kitchen.

She came to a stop. ‘Oh, hello! Helen, isn’t it? Had you any luck getting hold of a towing service?’

Helen shook her head. ‘They can’t send anyone until at least tomorrow. Or later, if the snow we’re expected to get arrives tonight.’

‘Oh, what a nuisance...I’m so sorry. Of course you must stay here with us,’ she decided. ‘We’ve plenty of room.’

‘I don’t want to be a bother—’ Helen began.

‘Nonsense, it’s no bother. I won’t hear of you staying at the gatehouse with Colm. He won’t welcome the company, and I’m sure you’ve no wish to spend another evening being glowered at.’

Helen laughed. ‘Not especially, no. Dreadful man, isn’t he?’

‘Well, he has his moments, I suppose,’ Wren allowed, ‘and he
is
a hard worker. Nevertheless, if he were clean-shaven and attired in proper evening kit, I vow he’d make a very credible Mr Rochester. Or Mr Darcy, come to that. He’s very much the broody, mysterious, nothing-much-good-to-say type, isn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ Helen agreed. ‘Yes, he is.’

‘We’re about to meet in the drawing room for a tour of the castle,’ Wren went on, ‘if you’d care to join us?’

Helen nodded. ‘I’d like that very much. Thank you.’

And as Wren excused herself and resumed her path to the kitchens, Helen made her way across the hall to the drawing room to join the others.

Chapter 9

Later that day, after Dominic and Gemma re-emerged from their rooms, Tarquin and Wren led everyone on a tour of the castle, through the keeping room, buttery, bottlery, kitchens, dungeons, and great hall, and down the formidable length of the long gallery, until they trooped, exhausted, back to the drawing room for afternoon tea.

‘I can’t believe your father actually rode his horse up the staircase,’ Natalie said as she sank into a chair.

‘It’s true.’ Tarquin followed them inside. ‘There are still hoof marks on the treads. Grandfather gave him a good hiding for it, believe me.’

‘What I don’t understand,’ Gemma ventured as she accepted a cup of tea from Wren and balanced it on her lap, ‘is why butter wasn’t kept in the buttery? You said it’s where ales and meads were stored; so why not call it the ‘meadery’ or the ‘winery’? Makes no bloody sense to me.’

He nodded. ‘It’s all a bit confusing, isn’t it? Butter was kept in the larder, and bottles – ‘butts’ to use the Latin term – of ale and mead were stored in the buttery.’ His smile was wry. ‘One couldn’t drink the water back then, apparently.’

‘Yes,’ Rhys agreed, ‘I’ve heard the meat was so spoiled it had to be drowned in herbs and sauces.’

‘That’s a common misconception,’ Tarquin replied, ‘but it isn’t true. Animals were slaughtered and eaten within a few days, and the meat was likely fresher than what we buy at the market today. Spices were expensive; a cook wouldn’t waste them on rancid meat. I doubt it would’ve masked the taste, at any rate. So beef and mutton and pork were layered with salt to preserve it, or soaked in salt brine, or smoked and hung up to dry.’

‘You’re so knowledgeable, Tark!’ Natalie exclaimed, impressed. ‘I’d no idea.’

‘You have to remember, I grew up here,’ he replied, and shrugged. ‘Tour groups were always trooping through the castle – still do, on occasion ‒ which my father absolutely abhors. I used to tag along, when I wasn’t away at school. I learnt the tour guide’s script off by heart.’

‘This place must’ve been great fun for hide-and-seek,’ Gemma remarked. ‘All those rooms, and dungeons, and nooks and crannies...’ She shuddered and sipped her tea.

‘Well, the east and west wings were closed off when I was a boy,’ Tarquin said. ‘And my sister and I were strictly forbidden to play in the dungeons. So that limited our battlefields and hiding places considerably.’

Helen, who stood admiring a collection of family photographs on a table near the fireplace, picked up one of the framed pictures. A handsome young man with the Campbell family’s dark-ginger hair and a wide, engaging smile looked back at her.

‘Who’s this?’ she asked, curious. ‘He looks rather like you, Tarquin.’

He rose and came to stand beside her, and took the picture from her hands. ‘Ah. That’s Andrew. My oldest brother.’

‘Phwoar, he’s gorgeous,’ Gemma approved as she got up and joined them, peering at the photograph over Tarquin’s shoulder. ‘Is he married? Does he live nearby? Will we meet him?’

Tarquin set the photograph back down, his expression unreadable. ‘I’m afraid not. He died, Miss Astley, years ago. He drowned off the coast of West Africa. His body was never recovered.’

An awkward silence descended over the room. Gemma went pale. ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ she began, stammering with embarrassment. ‘I didn’t know—’

‘Of course you didn’t,’ Wren said soothingly as she came up and slipped her arm around Gemma’s shoulders. She led her back to the sofa, and the warmth of the fireplace. ‘How could you possibly know?’

‘I remember reading about it in the papers,’ Rhys said. ‘Terrible tragedy. It must’ve been a difficult time for you and your family, Tarquin.’

‘It was a long time ago.’ With a shrug, Tark turned away from the table and returned to his seat by the fire, and stretched his legs out. ‘Eighteen years, to be exact. I was ten when it happened, and Andrew was twenty. He’d been away from home for a couple of years, traveling. He was always a great one for traveling. So we weren’t close. It devastated my father and mother, of course.’

‘I can imagine,’ Helen murmured. ‘It must be a horrible thing to lose one’s child.’

‘What happened, exactly?’ Natalie asked Tarquin, her face creased in concern. ‘Why was your brother’s body not recovered?’

‘Well, the beaches of the Sierra Leone are amongst the best in the world, unspoiled and vast, but the waters are rife with strong currents. Andrew was sailing when his boat capsized. He was an excellent swimmer, and he struck out for shore; but he got caught in a riptide, and was dragged out to sea.’

For a moment, the only sound was the snap and hiss of the flames in the fireplace.

‘Helen’s joining us for dinner,’ Wren said briskly, rising to her feet, ‘and she’s staying here tonight.’

‘The towing service can’t send a car until tomorrow,’ Helen added. ‘I hope you don’t mind the imposition.’

‘Not at all, and it’s no imposition,’ Tark said, and smiled. ‘The more the merrier, as they say. And we wouldn’t dream of inflicting Colm on you for another day, would we, Wren?’

‘I should say not!’

Over the ripple of laughter that followed this pronouncement, they looked up to see the groundskeeper standing in the doorway, a grim expression on his face.

Helen stood up guiltily. ‘Colm!’

He strode across the drawing room and thrust something at her. ‘This is yours.’

She looked down as she took the object into her hands. ‘It’s...it’s my mobile phone! You found it!’

‘Aye. It was on the floorboard of your hire car. I went to see if I could pull it out with the tractor, but it’s too far down the embankment.’ He turned to go.

‘Colm – wait.’

He paused. ‘Aye?’

Helen suppressed a wave of irritation. Damn the man! Why did he always make everything so bloody difficult? ‘The towing service can’t come out for another day or two. I’ll be staying here tonight, and possibly tomorrow night, as well. I just...wanted to let you know.’

He shrugged. ‘Good, then.’ He dipped his head at the others. ‘I’ll be off now.’ And he left.

‘Well,’ Natalie said tentatively when he’d gone, ‘
that
was awkward.’

‘I really put my foot in, didn’t I?’ Tark sighed. ‘Poor chap. I’d no idea he was standing there.’

‘Oh, not to worry,’ Wren assured him, ‘Colm’s got a hide like leather. You could fling spears and arrows at him, and like a rhinoceros, they’d just bounce off.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ Helen murmured. ‘I don’t know him very well, of course, but he strikes me as a man who feels things very deeply and holds a grudge for ever.’

‘How long has he worked here?’ Rhys wondered as he reached for another egg and cress sandwich. ‘Has he been with the family a long time?’

Tark shook his head. ‘He turned up three months ago, looking for work. Our groundskeeper, Mr Finney, had just retired, so the position was open. It was the most amazing good luck on our part. His too, I imagine.’

‘Yes,’ Helen murmured thoughtfully, and took a sip of her tea. ‘Wasn’t it just?’

Chapter 10

Late in the day, as she stepped into a beige silk chemise to dress for dinner, Natalie went pale.

‘Oh,’ she breathed, and sat down suddenly.

Rhys, knotting his tie in front of the mirror, paused. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, concerned. ‘You’ve gone as white as the bedspread.’

‘It’s a duvet,’ she corrected him faintly, ‘and, yes, I’m fine. I just felt a bit...dizzy, for a moment.’

‘Shall I fetch a doctor?’

‘No, don’t be silly.’ Natalie pushed herself to her feet. ‘It’s probably low blood sugar, or all that walking I did this morning. And I didn’t eat much at lunch.’

‘No, you didn’t,’ he accused. ‘And why didn’t you? You’re not on another one of those ridiculous diets, I hope?’

‘I simply wasn’t hungry, Rhys, that’s all,’ she said with a trace of irritation. ‘And I ate a
huge
breakfast.’

‘You did rather pack it away this morning.’ He came to stand behind her and slid his arms around her waist. ‘Are you nearly ready to go downstairs for dinner, darling?’

‘Almost.’ And as he nibbled her earlobe, Natalie’s irritation melted away, and she closed her eyes, and smiled, and forgot all about her momentary dizziness.

As she rummaged through her suitcase in search of an outfit to wear to dinner, Helen despaired. She hadn’t anything remotely suitable for dining in a castle. Hell, she didn’t even have a properly pressed pair of trousers.

Natalie
, she thought suddenly. They were roughly the same size, although Helen was a bit shorter.
Perhaps she’ll have something I can borrow...

Then she remembered the sheath she’d bought at Heathrow in one of the duty-free shops. She found it and pulled it out. The black wool hadn’t wrinkled, amazingly enough; and although it was plain, she could dress it up with a bit of jewellery and some heels. But she had to hurry, it was nearly seven...

Ten minutes later, Helen surveyed herself in the cheval mirror with satisfaction. Not bad, she decided, and raised a brow at her reflection. She’d do.

She grabbed her mobile and headed downstairs.

In the great hall, she paused at the foot of the stairs. The sound of voices echoed from the drawing room where everyone had gathered for a drink before dinner. They wouldn’t miss her for a few minutes more.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she took out her mobile and scrolled to Tom’s number. No time like the present...

‘Bennett here.’

‘It’s me,’ Helen said in a low voice.

‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘Scotland,’ she retorted, ‘as you very well know. It’s been snowing almost nonstop, and my hire car went down a bloody embankment last night.’

‘Shit! You’re all right, I hope?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said dryly, ‘not that you care.’

‘Not true.’ He paused. ‘Where are you, exactly?’

‘You’ll never believe it, but I’ve landed at Draemar Castle, where the celebrity lovebirds are staying with the Campbell family even as we speak.’

He let out a soft whistle. ‘And how did you manage that?’

‘The embankment I hove over just happened to be on the castle property,’ she told him, and cast another wary glance around her. ‘I’d no idea Dominic and Gemma were even here until this morning. I’ve been invited to stay until my hire car’s repaired...which might be a few days.’

‘Perfect. So...have you got anything for me?’

‘Not much. The wedding’s to be in four weeks. Gemma’s demanding a horse-drawn sleigh, and kilts, and masses of white roses, and all manner of ludicrous, romantic fol-de-rol.’ Scorn undercut her words.

‘Where’s it to be, then? At the castle?’

‘No. Northton Grange. It’s a tiny village in the highlands—’

‘Yeah, where Dominic’s got that estate he never goes to,’ Tom finished. ‘So when are they going on to Northton G? Soon?’

‘Oh, I imagine they’ll leave just as soon as this bloody
snow
stops falling.’ She glanced around her with a shudder. All those medieval instruments of war and knights in armour unnerved her. ‘And you can bet your arse that when Dominic and Gemma leave this pile of mouldering Scottish stone, I’ll be right behind them—’

At the sound of a footstep nearby, Helen broke off. She whirled around to see Colm standing there.

‘I’ll call you later,’ she murmured, and rang off. She glared at him. ‘What are you doing? How dare you creep up on me like that! You startled me.’