Fiona Harper - English Lord, Ordinary Lady

Not that his grandfather had ever expressed regret about marrying his grandmother, but it had to have hurt. His family had treated him like an outcast.

Will had been named after his grandfather and he’d been proud of the fact. Grandpa had been the one strong male influence in his life after his father’s early death, but he’d been so much more than a substitute parent. He’d been a friend, teacher and mentor.

William Radcliffe had not deserved to die feeling the shame that he’d forever marked his family as rejects and losers. And now Will had the chance to reverse the Roberts family fortunes, to regain the reputation his grandfather had been sure was past resurrection.

The Radcliffe family had allowed Elmhurst Hall to crumble and it would give him great satisfaction to restore it to its former glory, to turn it around and bring in an income to keep it safe for future generations—his children, not theirs. Then they’d see who the failures were.

Of course, he had to find the right woman to have them with. Someone demure but not dull, engaging but not outrageous. Someone who was ready to settle down and have a quiet country life. When he thought about it like that, it seemed an awfully tall order. Where was he going to find such a woman? And even if he did, would he fall in love with her?

No matter. If such a paragon of virtue really existed, he was bound to fall at her feet and worship.

Two hours later, he’d managed to clear most of the desk. It was hard to work out exactly how to categorise the things he’d found. Harry’s personal and financial affairs were inextricably combined with the estate business.

It seemed that Harry hadn’t thought of running the estate as a separate entity. That would have to change. Maybe he should look into setting up a charitable trust? But first things first. What Elmhurst needed was an administrator, someone to take care of the organisation, the people.

He picked up a photograph in a frame that was sitting on the desk. Until fifteen minutes ago, it had been hidden behind a stack of maps and magazines.

It was a black-and-white and taken, he guessed, some time in the Fifties. A large family group stood on the top lawn overlooking the sunken rose garden, squinting in the sunlight of a summer’s day. The man in the centre was Harry. He recognised him from some of the other photographs dotted around the hall. The rest of the group must have been made up of Harry’s brother—Will’s other great-uncle—and his children. Relations he’d never known.

Since the solicitor had tracked him down he’d had no contact from any of these people. It was as if they didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. He put the picture frame back down on the desk. Some of those children would only be in their fifties now. They couldn’t all be dead. So much for blood being thicker than water.

Hattie’s angelic face appeared at the counter, her chin lifted to see over the top of it. ‘Mummy, can I have another cake?’

Josie wiped her hands on her apron and looked at her daughter. ‘One is enough, sweetie. I’ll be finished in forty-five minutes and then we’ll be going home for tea.’

‘Please?’ Hattie clasped her hands in front of her, looking adorably hopeful.

‘Sorry. Why don’t you go and sit back down with your colouring book?’

Hattie dropped her hands and her shoulders hunched. ‘These tables are wobbly. I keep going wrong.’

Josie put her hands on her hips and looked round the makeshift tea and coffee area they had set up in the corner of the gift shop while the renovations were being completed in the tearoom. It really wasn’t ideal. She’d put tablecloths over the assorted garden furniture they’d cobbled together, but it was mismatched and left a lot to be desired.

‘Look! Those people over there have finished with the corner table. That one doesn’t wobble at all. Why don’t I help you move all your crayons and books over?’

A crayon rolled under the table in the moving operation and Josie ducked underneath to rescue it. Just as her fingers closed over it the old-fashioned bell on the door jangled. She backed out carefully, aware that the customers were getting a very good view of her rump.

She began talking as she started to stand. ‘Please excuse me. I was just…Oh.’

It wasn’t customers. It was the boss. He was clutching a familiar manila folder in his hand. Over the last few weeks he’d dropped by to see her at the end of the day every now and then to update her on the tearoom renovations. Was it her imagination, or were his visits getting more frequent? This was the second time this week and it was only Wednesday.

He thrust the folder in her direction. ‘I thought you might like to take a look at these brochures for new tills.’

‘That would be lovely, but…’ Her gaze drifted to a table of four on the opposite side of the room. ‘I just have a few more cream teas to prepare.’

He shrugged. ‘No problem. I’ll just sit here and keep Hattie company until you’re ready. Actually, I’ve got a surprise for you, princess.’

Hattie’s eyes widened. ‘Is it chocolate?’

Will laughed and put the folder down on the table. Josie wandered back to the food-preparation area, shaking her head. In between slicing scones and pouring tea she stole glances at the little table in the corner of the room. Will produced a wooden box from his briefcase. Hattie clapped as he opened it up to reveal a chessboard and chess pieces.

How thoughtful of Will. He must have noticed on previous visits that Hattie sometimes got bored on the days she had to fill the space between the end of school and the end of Josie’s working day sitting quietly at a table. There was a man who was a positive influence on Hattie. She smiled. Her daughter could certainly do with a good male role model.

By the time the last customers crossed the threshold, Hattie knew all the names of the pieces and exactly how they were allowed to move.

Josie took her apron off, hung it over a chair and crossed the room to join them.

‘Let’s see these brochures, then.’

Will dug the file out of his briefcase once again and handed it over. He nodded towards the board. ‘Do you play?’

She shook her head. ‘My older brother tried to teach me, but I was hopeless. I was always making illegal moves, sending my pawns whizzing across the board and letting my rook move diagonally.’

Hattie rolled her eyes. ‘Mum! It’s not that hard to remember.’

Josie laughed. ‘I know, but I just couldn’t resist bending the rules a little.’ She turned to Will. ‘You’re shocked. Don’t deny it.’

‘You’re never going to win if you don’t play by the rules.’

She placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. ‘I like playing by my own rules.’

Will shook his head and moved a pawn forward one space. ‘I’m starting to see that about you. But life follows a similar pattern, doesn’t it? If you don’t play by the rules, you don’t get ahead.’

That simply wasn’t true. She knew plenty of people who got ahead just because they had been born with a title or with money. They jumped to the top of the heap just because they could, because they thought it was their right. It had nothing to do with living by the ‘rules’ and everything to do with the old-boy network.

Perhaps it was just a different set of rules. Whatever. She still didn’t want to live by them. She knew her own values; she didn’t need anyone else imposing theirs on her. Freedom. Honesty. Unconditional love. Those were the things that were important. She had no problem in living according to those rules, the ones planted in her heart.

The new Lord Radcliffe had a lot to learn if he was still clinging on to the misguided belief that hard work and integrity would get him anywhere in his shark-infested social circle.