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Wickham Hall, Part 2 Page 10
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‘It’s very kind of you to invite your employee out for dinner but there’s really no need—’
He blew out a sharp breath and frowned. ‘I’m not— this has nothing to do with you being an employee and everything to do with you being a very lovely girl.’
My heart skipped a beat. Dinner as in date, then. Because I am a lovely girl. Yippee!
‘Ben,’ I said kindly, trying to ignore the bubbles of excitement in my tummy, ‘I’m flattered. But you’re aristocracy, I’m staff. Would Lord and Lady Fortescue be happy if they knew you’d asked me out on a date?’
He opened his mouth and there it was: a tiny hesitation, so tiny that I almost missed it. But it was there and my heart sank. ‘It’s nothing to do with them.’
I gave him a sad smile and turned to walk towards the lily pond. Ben leapt forward and twisted me round to face him, his eyes boring into mine.
‘Holly, listen. You are a breath of fresh air. Most girls I meet are more interested in the fact that I’m expected to inherit Wickham Hall than in me. Which is a bit of a blow to the ego.’
I smiled up at him. ‘I can imagine. But you must have met some girls who aren’t like that.’
He gave this some thought. ‘True. My last girlfriend, Sam, wasn’t interested in Wickham Hall, but then she wasn’t interested in art either and as I wasn’t into horses, we ran out of things to talk about after six months.’
I held out my arms. ‘I don’t know much about art either. Except that I like yours.’
‘There you go; you have an eye for talent.’ He grinned. He caught hold of my fingers.
I shook my head sadly. ‘We’re worlds apart, Ben.’
He brought my hands up to his mouth and kissed my fingers lightly. ‘Holly. Can we . . .? Let’s forget that for a moment. And just be Ben and Holly.’
I paused and blinked at him. Being attracted to my boss wasn’t in the plan. But it seemed to have happened anyway and maybe this was another of those unplanned magical moments that I needed to just go along with. And maybe I was being a bit harsh on Lord and Lady Fortescue: they were nice people, kind to their staff. Perhaps they would see what Ben had seen and be happy for him.
‘Holly?’ he prompted.
‘I’m always just Holly,’ I replied simply, lifting one shoulder.
‘You are far more than just Holly,’ he murmured. ‘I thought I’d hate working in the events department, stuck in an office doing boring organizy-type things. But you’ve made it bearable, enjoyable even, and I think . . . Well, you bring out the best in me and I think my parents will be forever grateful for that. So don’t say “just Holly”.’
I swallowed. Hard. No one had ever made me feel as special as he had just done in those few words.
His eyes locked onto mine and he traced a line with his fingertip along the side of my face.
A thousand thoughts whirled through my head then but the most vivid one was that I might forget what he’d actually just said or exactly what he did but I would never, ever forget the way he made me feel.
He dipped his head lower and I felt my breathing begin to race.
We were going to kiss, we were actually going to kiss. How had this even happened? One minute I was arguing about the obstacles that stood between us and the next . . . Frankly, I couldn’t care less about any awkwardness on Monday morning in the office. It was days away whereas now was . . . very, very real. Ben took my face gently in his hands and I closed my eyes as the gap between us disappeared. And for a blissful, heart-stopping fraction of a second my lips touched his and we shared the sweetest and briefest of kisses.
A crash in the bushes behind us frightened me half to death and I leapt out of Ben’s embrace as though I’d been prodded with a sharp stick, pressing a hand against my thundering heart.
And not a moment too soon. Lady Fortescue appeared from amongst a thicket of rhododendron bushes dotted with fuchsia-pink flowers. Her eyes darted from her son to me and she arched her eyebrows and sucked in her cheeks.
‘What are you two doing here?’
‘Ben was just—’
Lady Fortescue blinked at me. ‘Benedict, Holly, his name is Benedict.’
‘Sorry,’ I corrected. ‘Benedict was just—’
‘I brought Holly to the gardens for some peace and quiet, Mum, because she was ill,’ said Ben, taking a step towards me. ‘And she calls me Ben because I asked her to.’
He took my hand and squeezed my fingers. My face was now pinker than the rhododendron flowers.
Lady Fortescue raised herself up tall and I almost expected her to yell, ‘Off with her head.’
She pursed her lips at him for a moment instead before turning to me. ‘And how are you feeling, Holly? I hear you fainted.’
Actually, I was feeling a bit light-headed from what had looked set to be one of my all-time favourite kisses before she’d gate-crashed the party, but I didn’t think she’d appreciate that observation.
‘Much better, thank you, Lady Fortescue.’ I smiled. ‘I’ll be getting back to work in a moment.’
‘What about you, Mum,’ Ben said curtly. ‘What are you doing frolicking in the bushes?’
‘Hardly frolicking, darling,’ she chided. ‘I’m looking for my bracelet.’
‘Oh dear,’ I said, anxious to help. ‘Would you like us to look? Where did you lose it?’
‘No, no, thank you for the offer,’ she sighed, ‘but it’s a futile search. I’ll leave it, I think. I’m ready for a cup of tea and a sit-down in the gazebo. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to work, Holly.’
She gave me a pointed look, air-kissed Ben’s cheek and strode away along the gravel path.
‘Do you think we should have a look for her bracelet?’ I said as soon as she was out of earshot.
Ben rolled his eyes. ‘No. Like she said, it’s a waste of time. She’s talking about a pearl bracelet she lost in the gardens thirty years ago.’
He took a step closer and placed his hands on my waist.
‘Oh, shame. She must have really cared for it if she’s still searching after all this time. Was it a family heirloom?’ I said, inching my toes towards his.
Even as I was asking the question, I’d already lost interest in the answer. Which sounds a bit mean. But it looked as though Ben was intent on revisiting that kiss and even though it had come from nowhere, and pretty much stopped as soon as it had started, I had a feeling that I would very much enjoy seeing where it would go next.
‘No. Don’t think so,’ he murmured, lowering his head towards mine again. I felt my knees weaken and I boldly slid my hands up to his shoulders. ‘My dad gave it to her. He gave one similar to his mum and his aunt, apparently.’ He chuckled. ‘Trust Dad to buy the same thing for all the women in his life. Perhaps he bought in bulk for a discount.’
I focused on Ben’s lips and tilted my head to his to give him some encouragement. ‘Perhaps he just really liked that style. What was it like?’
Why was I still talking about Lady Fortescue’s bracelet, when I could be kissing that mouth . . .?
He shrugged. ‘Um, three strands of pearls, with an S-shaped diamond clasp. Not that I’ve ever seen it, but she’s been harping on about it for so long that I feel an intimate connection with the damn thing.’
A lump of ice lodged itself somewhere in my stomach and froze my entire body.
Ben pulled me closer. ‘Anyway, where were we?’ he murmured, flashing his dark eyes at me.
A pearl bracelet with an S-shaped diamond clasp? Just like the one Mum was given around that time too.
A chill ran along the length of my spine and my body gave a shudder.
Oh, no. Oh God, no . . .
I swallowed desperately as a wave of sickness rose up from my stomach and I struggled free from Ben’s arms. I think I knew where Mum’s bracelet had come from.
‘Holly?’ He frowned, trying to catch my hand.
‘I’m sorry, Ben, I have to go, I . . . I’m not well.’ I stumbled backwards away from him.
‘Holly, wait! I’ll take you.’
I turned and began to run. ‘No need. I’ll be fine. Early to bed and I’ll be OK tomorrow.’
‘But what about my wish, what about our date on Saturday?’ he called after me.
His words struck my heart like tiny arrows, piercing me over and over again.
‘I can’t,’ I shouted. ‘Please, just let me go.’
‘This is crazy, come back,’ I heard him shout.
He was right about that: it was crazy. But I didn’t stop, I didn’t turn round, I ignored him and ran and ran.
All the women in his life.
Mum must have been one of the women in Lord Fortescue’s life.
I felt sick and confused and, above all, desperately sad. But I didn’t slow down until I reached the end of Wickham Hall’s long drive. All I wanted to do was to get home and confront Mum, to force her to tell me the whole story. Because I couldn’t wait another minute to hear the truth.
Was I Lord Fortescue’s daughter? And more importantly, had I just kissed my brother?
Next at Wickham Hall in
Sparks Fly
Autumn is unfurling at Wickham Hall and everyone is excited about the upcoming bonfire night event – set to be the biggest and brightest ever in the hall’s history. Romance is definitely flickering between Holly and Ben too, as Holly’s life at home finally settles down.
But as one fire is put out another bursts into life, and the whole team at Wickham Hall find themselves under pressure. Will the majestic firework display end in tragedy?
Coming 24th September 2015
Available for pre-order now
About the Author
Cathy Bramley is the author of the best-selling romantic comedies Ivy Lane and Appleby Farm, both four-part serialised novels, and Conditional Love. Wickham Hall is also a four-part serialised novel. She lives in a Nottinghamshire village with her husband, two daughters and a dog.
Her recent career as a full-time writer of light-hearted, romantic fiction has come as somewhat of a lovely surprise, after spending the last eighteen years running her own marketing agency. However, she has always been an avid reader, hiding her book under the duvet and reading by torchlight. Luckily her husband has now bought her a Kindle, so that’s the end of that palaver.
Cathy loves to hear from her readers. You can get in touch via her website www.CathyBramley.co.uk, Facebook page Facebook.com/CathyBramleyAuthor or on Twitter twitter.com/CathyBramley
Also by Cathy Bramley
Ivy Lane
Conditional Love
Appleby Farm
Irresistible recipes inspired by Wickham Hall
Sheila Beckwith’s Blueberry Cake
Samantha Tonge’s Glittery Scones
Sausage and Butter Bean Stew
Sheila Beckwith’s Blueberry Cake
Pssst . . . Sheila Beckwith is not only Lord Fortescue’s secretary, she’s actually a real person, who won the chance to have a character named after her in one of my books! She created this cake for her daughter, book blogger Jill Stratton, and Jill reckons it’s the bee’s knees!
You will need . . .
285g gluten-free self-raising flour
170g dairy-free olive spread
170g caster sugar
3 eggs
Pinch of salt
170g of blueberries
Preheat the oven to 190°C (170°C fan, gas mark 5) and grease and line a 7-inch cake tin with greaseproof paper.
Cream the olive spread and sugar together. Add 1 egg at a time and mix with a wooden spoon until light and fluffy.
Gradually add sieved flour and pinch of salt and mix gently. Then fold in the fresh blueberries without crushing them.
Pour into the prepared tin and bake for approximately 30 minutes, until an inserted knife comes out clear.
Tuck in as soon as it’s cool enough!
Samantha Tonge’s Glittery Scones
At the time of researching recipes for Wickham Hall, I was reading Game of Scones by Samantha Tonge. Sam’s book is a sizzling romantic comedy set in Greece and includes so many mouth-wateringly delicious food references that I couldn’t resist asking her to write a recipe for Wickham Hall. Sam not only came up with the goods (thanks a million, Sam) but she photographed them too and if you look at her website (SamanthaTonge.co.uk) you can find the pictures. Over to you Sam!
You will need . . .
225g self-raising flour
Pinch of salt
50g butter
1 tbsp caster sugar
1 tbsp chopped nuts
½ tsp almond essence
¼ pint (150ml) milk
For the filling:
2 tsp almond essence
2 tsp caster sugar
200g plain Greek yogurt
1 tin black cherry pie filling
Pink, gold or silver edible food glitter
Preheat the oven to 220°C (200°C fan, gas mark 7). Grease a baking tray.
Sift the flour and salt into a mixing bowl and rub in the butter to form a crumbly mixture. Stir in the caster sugar and the chopped nuts.
Add the almond essence and then slowly stir in the milk (you may not need all of it) until the mixture forms a dough.
Knead the dough on a board well-sprinkled with flour and roll out until about 1cm deep. Cut out rounds of scone using a 7cm/3 inch wide cutter or cup rim. Place the circles on the greased baking tray and brush the tops with milk leftover from making the dough.
Bake for 12–15 minutes until nicely browned. Allow to cool on a wire rack.
To prepare the filling, mix the almond essence and caster sugar into the Greek yogurt. Slice a scone in half. On one half, spread a thick layer of yogurt. On top of this, spoon on some of the black cherry pie filling. Sprinkle on your glitter. Then complete by adding the other half of the scone on top.
Enjoy! Everyone needs a bit of sparkle in their lives – I hope your glittery scones do the job!
Sausage and Butter Bean Stew
One of my favourite things is collecting recipes from friends, family and colleagues and so I was delighted when my publicist at Transworld, Sarah Harwood sent me this one to try. What I love about this one is its versatility, you can dress it up for Sunday lunch or cook some pasta with it for an easy after-work no-fuss dinner. Thank you, Sarah!
This is an easy and quick dish to make, and makes a great summer side dish. I serve it alongside roast chicken and a big green salad, for a lighter, healthier Sunday lunch. It also goes really well with a nice glass of white wine!
You will need . . .
Olive oil for frying
1 large onion, diced (I like to use a red onion)
1–2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
200g chorizo sausage, chopped (chorizo works particularly well in this dish, but any smoked sausage is fine)
400g jar of passata
400g tin butter beans, drained
1 tsp paprika
½ tsp cayenne pepper (optional)
Fry the onion and garlic in a splash of olive oil in a medium saucepan over a medium heat.
After 2–3 minutes, add in the sausage and fry for another 2 minutes.
Add the passata, butter beans and spices, then reduce the heat on the pan.
Leave to cook for 10–15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
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First published in Great Britain by Transworld Digital
an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright © Cathy Bramley 2015
Cathy Bramley has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons livi
ng or dead, is purely coincidental.
Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologize for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781473526709
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