Joanna Neil - Second Chance With Lord Branscombe

CHAPTER TWO

‘COME ON IN, then, Charlie.’ Sophie let herself into her father’s kitchen and then stood to one side to let the excited yellow Labrador follow her. He was carrying his lead in his mouth as usual—she always let him walk home the last few yards untethered. She went over to the sink and filled the dog bowl with fresh cold water. ‘Okay, I’ll swap you—you give me the lead and I’ll let you have the water.’ It was a ritual they followed every time they went out.

Charlie obligingly dropped the loop handle and she unclipped the lead from his collar and put it away. He drank thirstily and then dropped to the floor, panting heavily and watching her as she washed her hands and then filled the kettle and switched it on.

She gazed out of the window at the neat lawn and the garden with its bright flower borders. There were scarlet surfinias in tubs that reminded her of that day at the restaurant when she’d met up with Nate. It had been almost two weeks ago and she hadn’t seen anything more of him since then but she guessed he was probably spending a lot of his time visiting his father in the Coronary Care Unit.

‘He looks suitably worn out.’ Her father wheeled himself into the kitchen, breaking into her thoughts and smiling as he looked over at the dog. ‘Just as well, if the physio’s coming here later on. Charlie can be a bit too exuberant at times.’

Sophie smiled with him and pushed a cup of tea across the table towards him. ‘He’s not slowing down at all, is he? You’d have thought at eight years old there would have been a few signs of maturity by now, wouldn’t you?’

‘You would.’

Her father had bought Charlie as a pup, a couple of years after his marriage to her mother had broken down. He’d taken him with him everywhere, even to his work on the estate, and they’d roamed the woods and fields together, man and dog.

‘How’s the work going with the physio?’ she asked now, as she slid bread into the toaster. Every morning before work, she came over to the house to have breakfast with her father.

‘We’re getting there, I reckon.’ He paused, thinking about it. ‘When she came yesterday I stood for a while with the frame, and I even managed to take a couple of steps.’

‘You did?’ He looked deservedly pleased with himself and Sophie stopped what she was doing and rushed over to him. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful.’ She hugged him fiercely. ‘I’m thrilled to bits for you. That’s amazing.’

‘Yes, it’s definitely a step forward...’ He chuckled at his own joke and she laughed with him. ‘Seriously, with all the treatment I’ve been having at the hospital, and now these sessions at home with the physio, I feel as though I’m making progress. It’s been a long job, but I’m getting there at last.’

They ate cereals and toast and chatted for a while, but Sophie soon realised her father had something else on his mind. ‘I’ve been hearing rumours,’ he said, ‘about Branscombe losing all his money and the estate houses being put on the market. Do you know anything about that?’

‘Not really.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll know anything more until Lord Branscombe is out of hospital. Nate’s looking after things in the meantime, but—’

‘You’ve seen him again?’ Martin Trent’s voice was sharp, his whole manner on the alert all at once.

‘No...no, not since I saw him that day at the Seafarer when his father was taken ill.’ Sophie hastily tried to calm him. It was true. She hadn’t seen him. She wasn’t going to tell him that she’d phoned the Manor House the next day to find out how Lord Branscombe was faring. After all, it had been an innocent enquiry—she’d expected to talk to Charlotte, and it had been a shock to have Nate answer the phone.

‘I haven’t seen him,’ she said again, calmly, concerned that her father was still looking tense, his fingers gripping tightly on the arms of his wheelchair, ‘so I assume he’s busy visiting his father and talking to the Estate Manager to see how they can keep things jogging along.’

‘Hmmph.’ He slumped back in his seat. ‘I don’t want either of us to have anything more to do with that family. James is an arrogant, self-centred womaniser and his son is likely no better.’

‘We don’t know that Nate is like that,’ she said in a reasonable tone. ‘He hasn’t been around here for any length of time these past few years, has he, so how can we judge him?’

‘He can’t escape heredity,’ her father said flatly. ‘It’ll be in the genes. That’s all you need to know. Besides, he upset you... I know you and he argued but you were broken-hearted when he went away.’

‘It was a bad time. You were injured and struggling to come to terms with being disabled and I was confused and lashed out.’ Sophie sighed inwardly. She understood her father’s dislike of the Branscombes and his hostility towards them. After all, he’d worked for Lord Branscombe for years and had suffered in the end because of it, but it was hard for her to share his animosity towards the son. Her mind drifted back to that last conversation she’d had with Nate.

He’d been more than pleased to talk to her that day when she’d telephoned the Manor House. Despite his troubles, his voice was warm and welcoming, sending little thrills to run along her spine. Just hearing him had made her feel that he was close by, almost as though he was in the room with her. She’d been concerned for him, though, wondering how he was bearing up, and tried to keep her mind on the business in hand.

‘They’re assessing my father in the Coronary Care Unit,’ he’d said when she asked about Lord Branscombe. ‘I think they’re planning on removing the blood clot and putting a stent in one of his arteries. It’s looking as though he’ll be in hospital for some time.’

They’d talked for a while and he said, ‘I’m sorry things turned out the way they did—both for my father and for selfish reasons... It was good seeing you again, Sophie. I’m sorry our get-together came to such an abrupt end.’

‘Yes...though I wasn’t expecting you to turn up that day or I—’ She broke off.

‘Or you’d have gone out of your way to avoid me.’ She could hear the wry inflection in his voice and she flinched, knowing what he said was the truth.

Seeing him again had stirred up all sorts of feelings inside her that she’d thought were long since forgotten...or at least pushed to one side. But she didn’t want to go there again—to start up something that would only end in distress.

Suddenly uncomfortable, she sought for a way to bring the conversation to an end. ‘I’m sure your father’s in good hands, Nate. He’ll be glad to have you by his side as he recovers.’

‘Yes, he seems calmer, knowing I’m here for him.’

‘That’s good.’ She hesitated, cautious about getting more deeply involved with him, and then said, ‘I should go. Maybe I’ll see you around.’

‘Sophie, couldn’t we—?’ Nate started to speak but she quickly cut the call before she could change her mind.

‘Bye.’ She had no idea what he must have made of her rush to get away, but he already knew she was trying to keep her distance from him.

‘Anyway,’ her father was saying, ‘it looks as though the tenancies could be at risk if what the papers say is true.’ His brow was furrowed with anxiety. ‘I’ve grown used to living here since the crash—I have wheelchair access, handrails... I don’t want to have to move...to have to go through the upheaval all over again...’

‘It probably won’t come to that,’ she said, trying to soothe him. ‘I suppose we’re all in much the same boat—my place is rented too. But, as far as I know, the press stories are just speculation. It’s too soon yet for anything to have been decided.’