A Roll in the Hay E-Book

Lola Keeley

• Herausgeber: Ylva Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 336

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

From rivalry to romance in the Scottish countryside – a steamy enemies-to-lovers tale where passion meets the pasture. The whole "big city, successful career, loyal, hot girlfriend" experiment has been a miserable failure for veterinarian Tess Robinson, so she's moved back home to a small town in the Scottish countryside. She doesn't count on a run-in with the stuck-up, maddening, local landowner Lady Susannah Karlson, who tries to boss Tess around as if she owns the whole town…which she sort of does. Closeted, wealthy, ice queen Lady Karlson is having the worst year–becoming widowed, being embroiled in a public feud over her vast estate, and now finding herself at odds with the sharp-tongued new vet who has just blown in from London. The annoying woman is so unsuitable to tend her horses, so impertinent, and so frustratingly cute. As their clashes build and they're thrust together against a back-drop of eccentric village busybodies, class warfare, and deadly dangers, the circling women start to wonder if there might be something more to the rising tensions between them. It can't all be hate, can it? In a world of expectations, this quirky, enemies-to-lovers lesbian romance is about making your own path.

Leseprobe

Table Of Contents

Other Books by Lola Keeley

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Other Books from Ylva Publishing

About Lola Keeley

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www.ylva-publishing.com

Other Books by Lola Keeley

Slammed

Major Surgery

The Music and the Mirror

Dedication

For Kaite, who makes it easy to keep falling in love with a posh bird, every day

Acknowledgments

First of all to the team at Ylva – Astrid, Daniela, Alex, and the various helpers through the publishing process. You spend a lot of hours making each one of these books real, and it’s a pleasure to be part of your publishing house.

I’ve run out of superlatives for Lee, editrix extraordinaire. This is the part where she’d leave me a comment telling me she knows I can do better and that I’ll find those superlatives if I take a fresh look. Not only did she kick this book into shape, but she’s been improving my writing since she first approached me to make my novels happen.

None of it would get done without the love and support of my dear lady wife, not least because she understands the process and the tricky parts. She has also finally cracked the perfect cup of tea after sixteen years, so that might be the biggest victory of all. We have a very exciting year ahead, personally and creatively, and there’s no one I’d rather share it all with.

My bestie, Lande, continues to be the biggest fan and best supporter, as well as the funniest person I talk to every day. My bezzer, Lisa-Marie, provides risqué titles and podcast chats that make even book promotion fun. So many dear friends have provided comfort and support over drinks or group chats, that it would take another book to list everyone I’m grateful for. But grateful I most sincerely am.

And my parents, Isobel and Raymond, who might not entirely get the genre thing, but they’ll still go to bat for me like they’ve been doing for most of my life. Thank you for the keeping me alive parts, that was probably a lot of hard work!

Last but never least, to every reader who has read, commented, tweeted, reviewed or emailed: THANK YOU. I hope you enjoy this book as you have the previous ones.

Chapter 1

Move to the country, they said. Friendly people, beautiful animals, and rolling green fields as far as the eye can see. That was the promise in the brochures, on the websites, and in the welcoming words of everyone Tess Robinson had unveiled her grand plan to. She’d spent the past two months as a walking, talking advertisement for the excellent life choice of leaving the big city and starting fresh in the bucolic Scottish countryside. It made for the sort of heartwarming, inspirational story where Julia Roberts might play her in the film, or at least she would have done, fifteen years earlier.

Except the countryside wasn’t supposed to be a dirt track with more holes in it than Swiss cheese. It cut through a field that was neither rolling nor green, but distinctly brown, and strewn with the occasional empty lager can or discarded plastic bag. The smell of manure hung on the breeze, and the only resident near the field to provide local charm was a geriatric sheep that kept bumping into the fence.

“You have reached your destination,” the car’s navigation system announced.

Checking her phone, Tess cursed under her breath at the predictable lack of signal. Welcome back to the countryside. As she fumbled in the glove compartment for the road map she hoped was still there, Tess couldn’t help wondering if she had made a huge, life-changing mistake in leaving London. She blew the hair out of her eyes each time it got in her line of sight, which did nothing to improve her bubbling irritation.

As the icing on the cake, the rain started coming down in sheets, reducing the world to a grey, streaky mess that barely extended a few feet beyond her windscreen.

The map didn’t help much at all. Her best bet would be turning around somehow and getting back to the nearest real road. Easier said than done, given the track was narrow as hell, with piled stone walls on either side. The car was practically touching them just sitting there. Turning around, even in a fifteen-point turn, seemed preferable to carrying on down the marshy field and ending up stuck in the mud. Tess decided to get the hell out of there.

She missed her zippy little Mini that she’d used to get around London—not that she’d driven much in the city. That faithful little car had been traded in when she invested in this hulking SUV that was supposed to handle every situation, but there didn’t appear to be a button or a Bluetooth command for undoing bad navigation.

“Waffles, pal, I can’t believe it, but I think I’m lost. And we’re only about thirty miles from where I grew up.” She turned around to where her gorgeous golden Labrador was staring at her from his travel crate, his usual morose expression exaggerated by his temporary confinement. “Don’t worry, as soon as I find the right road, we’re getting out to stretch our legs.”

Knock, knock, knock.

Tess jumped at the sound. Her seatbelt dug into the side of her neck. The fist rapping on the driver’s side window seemed like it was going to come through the glass. Tess saw a looming shape with a dark hood, but the rain was streaking too fast for a clear view. Her heart kickstarted a new frantic beat, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm. A glance in the rearview confirmed a proper country Land Rover had appeared behind her. She’d been so focused on Waffles, she hadn’t noticed anyone approaching the car.

As she slid her window down, Tess was greeted, not with the gnarly ancient farmer she expected, but a blonde woman her own age or maybe a little older, using her Barbour wax jacket like a personal tarpaulin to keep the rain off her buoyant, blown-out curls—the sort that somehow always fall into place. Even in the middle of nowhere she looked like someone who’d just stepped out of a shampoo advert.

“I’m sorry—” Tess began.

“Never mind, sorry.” Posh, then. English. Looked it as much as she sounded it. The type that would chase a teenage Tess and her friends off her land. “Can you get your impractical toy of a car out of the road? Just go forward. There’s a wider part in a hundred yards where you can turn.”

“Right, yeah.” Tess gunned the engine before wondering when exactly this woman got the right to tell her to do anything. “You know, I really was just getting my bearings. I wouldn’t have been here a minute longer, so you can just get back into your car and—”

“You’re on my land, and I’d like you to not be,” Blondie snapped. Some things really didn’t change when it came to the landowning snobs in this part of the world. “I’ve already been delayed this afternoon, and I have appointments yet to attend. Urgent ones. So do move along, otherwise I’ll be shunting you through one of those stone walls to make room.”

Charming. Absolutely charming. Just went to show that nice clothes and pretty hair and perfect make-up didn’t make a lady. Even one who could technically be described as attractive. Apart from her attitude, anyway.

No way, not happening. Tess didn’t want to speculate on exactly how badly she needed to get some action if she was looking at road rage as a potential dating opportunity.

“Well?” came the impatient demand.

Waffles, bless his protective instincts, barked at the tone.

The woman glanced to the back of Tess’s car. “Have you got a dog in there? Poor mutt.”

“Yes, I have, as it happens,” Tess says. “And he’s a retired guide dog, for your information, not some mutt. Not that it would matter if he were.”

Waffles added his own bellowing bark, as if proudly agreeing.

That at least got Blondie to step back from the open window, striding back to her car like the world was depending on her.

Right. Better to get on and get out of the way. Rolling down the road in second gear, Tess peered through the rain. Sure enough, there was a widening where the walls disappeared. Pulling over to the left, she waited as Lady Snooty whizzed past. Not exactly the battered farmer’s model, but she’d had the cheek to judge Tess’s car?

Not surprisingly, there was no wave or tooted horn in acknowledgement, just the roar of a powerful engine and the spit of gravel.

Turning back in the direction she came, Tess shook her head. Her car would be just fine, and it was far from a toy. It was about twice the height of her for a start, with more bells and whistles than she could ever possibly learn.

Edging back towards the main road, she could see where she went wrong. A rookie mistake, one that might have been avoided if she’d stuck around the area long enough to learn to drive instead of bolting for university at the first possible opportunity. Now, twenty years later, here she was, moving her whole life back, all to go into business with her best friend.

Margo was that same best friend Tess had met in their first week of university, which seemed a century ago at least. What a peculiar kind of fate that Margo, from deepest, darkest Essex, should have ended up in this wee corner of the Scottish Borders where Tess was born and raised. They were over an hour south of Edinburgh but far enough from the English border for Tess to be resolute in her Scottishness.

Heading the right way this time, she soon hit town. Well, village was a better word for it. The shop names had changed, and the cars parked along each side of the road were bigger, flashier, newer, but Tess recognised it. She’d come here a lot as a child, the next nearest spot of civilisation from the ramshackle farm where she’d grown up. In a movie, this would be where the soundtrack swelled in notes of joyous homecoming. For Tess’s money, the banjos from Deliverance would have been more on the mark.

The foreboding lasted only as long as it took to park outside the vet’s surgery, a sprawling cottage of a property that had been the doctor’s office back in Tess’s childhood. At least the rain had stopped as quickly as it started. She barely had the car door open before Margo came bundling out, still wearing her deep-green lab coat and blue latex gloves.

“There you are! We were expecting you an hour ago!” Margo collided with Tess in a hug that even rugby would deem an unfair tackle, but Tess absorbed the warmth of it with a patient smile. “Don’t tell me you got lost? In your home town?”

“Okay, it’s not actually my home town. And I wasn’t lost!” Tess argued, but they were both already laughing. “There was an accident on the motorway, and then I made a simple wrong turn—which, by the way, would have been fixed in two seconds if some mouthy piece with a big car hadn’t tried to run me off the road to get past.”

“I don’t think you can talk about big cars, Tess,” Adam said, coming outside with a little more decorum. He’d stopped to take his lab coat off, at least.

“Oh, like you wouldn’t be zipping around here in a Porsche if it could handle the roads.” Tess wriggled free of Margo and gave Adam a much gentler hug that didn’t risk breaking any bones. “You two look disgustingly well. And happy.”

Adam and Margo beamed at each other. It was only a little nauseating. Margo wasn’t much taller than Tess, who barely topped five feet. They’d always contrasted each other—Tess pale and red-headed, Margo with her dark brown bob and Italian complexion that looked tanned even when she wasn’t really. Adam had that long, lean build of someone who had grown up in fresh country air, his dark hair getting a little salt and pepper. They made a handsome couple.

Only a bleep announcing some kind of next appointment reminded them that they were supposed to be doing anything else.

“Listen,” Adam said, “I’d love to stay and welcome you properly, but—”

“Go,” Tess urged. “I’ll come help out in a minute. Just want to stretch my legs after so long in the bloody car. And Waffles must be bursting by now.”

“Oh, of course he came with you!” Margo exclaimed.

Tess opened the back door and unlatched his crate. Waffles bounded out with his usual enthusiasm, a trace of pup still in him despite being fully grown.

“Well, I was hardly going to put him on the van with my furniture. That’s not going to be here for ages yet. It’s in storage until I get confirmation on the new place.”

“I’m just glad to see him.” Margo was already on the ground, giving Waffles the rough cuddles he lived for.

“You two can get back to work, I’ll be fine.” Tess whistled for Waffles to come to heel. He did, with obvious reluctance, and she fixed his leash, tugging on the well-worn leather of it. “Me and Boy Wonder here are going in search of caffeine and a bowl of water.”

“Don’t go too far, please?” Adam straightened his tie. He looked very smart for someone who spent a fair part of his week with one arm up a cow’s backside. “We’ve got a potential new client coming in this afternoon, and she could really get our new three-way off with a bang, so to speak.”

“Partnership.” Tess sighed. “I really thought the three-way joke would have worn off by now, Adam. Is the coffee across the road any good?” She nodded to the café facing the surgery. It was past a roundabout with a delightful little garden in the middle, set around a white gazebo, of all things.

“It’s kept us alive this long.” Adam shrugged. “Mine’s an Americano if you’re buying. Now, I have a pug waiting for me.”

Tess waved him off and crossed the road with the dog in tow, giving a token glance in each direction. The traffic through the village certainly hadn’t increased.

The café at least belonged to the right century, with its Wi-Fi stickers in the windows and a display confirming they took cards and contactless payments. Better than Tess had hoped for, and ducking through the doors confirmed the space was light, airy, and filled with just enough comfortable chairs. The smell of freshly ground coffee competed with something sweet baking. Tess was drawn towards the counter like a cartoon character following wavy lines of deliciousness.

“Well, you must be the new vet,” the statuesque black woman behind the counter said as soon as Tess stepped up. She looked to be in her early fifties. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Have you?” Tess heard her own Scottish lilt deepening upon finally talking to someone whose accent matched hers. “Was the order for an Americano and two lattes in the newsletter as well?”

That got her a smile.

“Joan, by the way,” Tess was informed as the coffees were being poured. “Margo said you were from around here, but I don’t know your face.”

“I’ve been away a long time. And we didn’t really come here to Hayleith very much.”

“You still got family here?”

“Nah.” Tess shook her head. “My mum passed a few years ago, and everyone else had moved on by then. Like me, going off to Glasgow and then London, I suppose.”

Joan selected lids for the coffees, taking her time fitting each one. In London that would have had Tess’s impatience bursting through, but already the long drive and quiet surroundings had mellowed her just a little.

“That’s a shame. Are you staying over at the vets’ house? Margo and Adam certainly have the room.”

“For a few days, yeah. Then I’ll start settling in. Oh, I’d love to stay and chat,” Tess lied through her teeth. As soon as the cups were placed in their cardboard holder, she clutched them. “It’s just, you know, first day and all that. Got to show willing.”

Leaving with a weak smile, she collected Waffles from where he’d been taking advantage of the water bowls by the café entrance.

They took their time sauntering back to the surgery, Waffles sniffling every inch of ground and Tess sipping at her coffee while balancing the others. Only one car passed them the whole time, and there was nobody out on the street to awkwardly say hello to. Tess caught sight of a sign for the local pub, The Spiky Thistle, just down past the vet’s.

When she reached the practice’s doors, a growling pug was eying its very tall owner, who was clutching a bag full of medication and bearing a grim smile of determination. That one would be back before long. Dogs refusing medicine always made for reliable repeat visitors, and sometimes at Tess’s London practice it had felt like half of her actual job.

There was no one on reception, so Tess pushed through the door marked “Staff”, calling out “coffee!” as she did. She stopped suddenly and stared. The chatter in the room dropped off at her shocked expression, and only one person returned it.

The blonde from the wrong road.

“As I was just saying,” Margo picked up the conversation again, “our expansion is possible thanks to this lovely addition to the practice. Tess Robinson is one of my oldest friends, and we trained together at Glasgow. Tess, this is Susannah Karlson. She owns the big estate just north of here, and—”

Waffles took advantage of Tess’s slack grip on the lead to promptly betray her and start snuffling around Susannah. She couldn’t be entirely evil, because she paused to pet him before interrupting.

“Oh no,” Susannah cut in. “Absolutely not. I didn’t think you had the capacity for the Midsummer Estate anyway, but employing grown adults who can’t even drive? What good will she be to me at 4a.m. in the snow when one of my horses has colic?”

“Um, actually I can drive perfectly well,” Tess argued, placing the coffees on the table so her hands could settle on her hips. “Although I’m not sure a stable owner who can’t handle a bout of colic alone is going to be much judge of a vet’s skill.”

Oops. Temper, temper. Tess had never been good with people putting her down. Anything in the region of assuming she was “less than” had historically not been great either. This woman, this Susannah, was a waving red rag, and Tess was absolutely the antagonised bull.

“I’m sure what Tess meant to say, Lady Karlson—” Adam began, but he seemed a little shellshocked.

“I knew this was a waste of my time. First, she makes me late for my previous meeting and now she insults my intelligence. I’m well aware of how to treat colic in my horses, but thanks for that lovely condescension. I think I’ll stick to one of the big chains. An estate the size of mine needs professionals at the top of their game. Clearly this isn’t where I’ll find them.”

With that, she swept out in a cloud of expensive perfume and gently bouncing curls.

Tess stared after her, mouth falling open. Seriously, how did women get their hair to do that? Tess had tried everything short of a perm, and still her hair lay straight and a little limp.

“Okay,” Tess said, turning back to her friends. “I have no idea how that just spiralled, but I promise you, I am going to bring in new business. We don’t need to be working for someone who treats us like dirt, do we?”

Adam and Margo looked at each other with that silent couple talk that concluded with a head tilt and a raised eyebrow.

“It’s fine,” Margo assured them both. “It was a long shot anyway; you heard her. Maybe we’re not big enough for her new stud farm and whatever else she’s got going on up there.”

“Stud farm?” Tess groaned inwardly. The chance of working with horses had been the biggest draw about coming back to the country. That was what got her into being a vet in the first place. “I’m sorry, guys.”

“Listen, we didn’t have her on the books when we made our plans, so things are no different,” Adam said. “I’ve got some neutered tomcats to wake up gently, but what do you ladies say to takeaway tonight? The house is just next door, Tess, if you want to get settled in?”

She smiled and accepted the key that Margo had thoughtfully put on a University of Glasgow keyring. Her own place, just down the road and tucked in behind the pub, wouldn’t be ready for a couple of days. Tess had looked at it a few minutes ago.

“Come on, I’ll show you and Waffles to the guest room,” Margo said. “Then I’ve got a call out to check on some pigs. You can tag along, if you like, or just get unpacked.”

They linked arms for the walk across to the house and, for the first time in an hour, Tess breathed all the way out. It was still going to be good, she decided. This was going to be the right move for her.

Or else.

Chapter 2

Susannah all but abandoned her Land Rover on the drive. Up until last year she’d always parked with consummate care, partly out of consideration for her late husband, who shared the driveway, and partly because of his relentless good-natured mockery of her driving skills. She stormed through the grand front doors, irked by the heft of them as they groaned their way open, but it was quicker than walking all the way around to the back. Bloody tedious, really.

The place felt too damn empty, a museum with just one living exhibit.

Spotting dust on the marble bust that dominated one corner of the room—some military-minded ancestor or other—Susannah remembered that she still had to recruit a new housekeeper. In truth, the staff had been trickling away as soon after the funeral as they could get away with, and months later, Midsummer was a stately home down to a skeleton staff. One or two quitting would have been understandable, but losing so many suggested either carelessness or a deep loyalty to her husband that didn’t extend to her own management. Reflecting on that for too long didn’t exactly make Susannah feel fantastic about herself.

“There you are!” Finn came hurtling towards her across the entrance hall like a security guard who had just noticed Susannah shoplifting lipstick. “I’ve had nothing but calls for you today.”

“I’m sure you coped, and besides, I had business in the village.”

“Of course I did, but what’s the point in being the best executive assistant ever if you can’t complain about how hard it is to be brilliant?” Looking as fashionable as ever in a dark grey shirt and skinny black tie paired perfectly with tapered trousers and low heels, Finn offered a cheeky grin.

Susannah had long since given up on trying to keep up with her PA, style-wise, just accepting the gentle criticism that was sometimes levelled at her outfits.

“Anything that can’t be ignored in favour of a late lunch?” Susannah asked.

“Nope.”

“Correct answer. Honestly, I’ve just wasted part of my day getting stuck behind some incompetent on the access road who made me late for saying goodbye to Kenny on his last day. It’s bad enough I’ve lost him running my stables after ten years, but now he’ll think I don’t care one jot. Then it turns out this imbecile, who can barely find third gear, is after our vet business. I think not.”

“Oh, the new one? Tilly, Tammy, something like that. Margo was talking to my source about her in the café last week.”

Finn knew absolutely everyone in the village, but in keeping an air of drama about most things, Joan Barnes, café owner, became a source for the purposes of telling the story.

“Tess, actually.” Susannah frowned. She had trouble remembering the names of some of her relatives most days. Why had Tess-the-terrible-driver made such an impact? Maybe it was the dog. Susannah had always had a soft spot for big, dopey Labs. “Come on, keep me company while I raid the fridge for some lunch. We really need to step up the search for a new personal chef. I’m living on what I can mine from the deli counter and whatever I can persuade Joan to stock me up with.”

Having never really learned to cook beyond a burnt omelette, Susannah was missing access to a chef most of all. Even though Francine had refused to live in or work full-time and insisted on only being called Chef at all times, she had been a damn fine cook.

Luckily there was a platter of charcuterie and a goat’s cheese salad from Joan’s last delivery. There was plenty for Finn, too, so Susannah retrieved a bottle of white from the wine fridge and poured a glass for both of them.

“I assume,” Susannah said, picking at some Serrano ham with her fork, “that at least half of those calls were from my dear sister-in-law?”

Finn nodded, rolling their eyes at the same time behind dark thick-rimmed glasses. “Her snivelling assistant wanted to remind you that she had sent her lawyer’s letter, which I already told him you received. Then, apparently, Robin wanted to visit, even though I said you had no free time this week. And then she phoned herself ‘by accident’, but I think it was mostly just to irritate me. Actually I know it was, because she took the opportunity to misgender me at least three times. It’s bad enough she can’t use ‘they’ when referring to me, but the way she calls me ‘girl’ all the time like she’s winning some kind of point…”

“Christ, I’m sorry.” Susannah set her cutlery down in disgust. And maybe a little to avoid throwing anything. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that level of ignorance. Not just because she has it in for me.”

“Oh, to hell with Robin. It’d hurt more, all her snotty digs about both of us, if I cared about her in the least. Luckily for us, I don’t. I’ve counted all my damns, and I don’t have a single one left to spare for her.”

“I wish I could be above getting irritated by her,” Susannah admitted with a sigh, picking out a slice of salami. “You’d think at some point she’d realised her brother died and actually grieve for him instead of chasing his money.”

“Chasing the money he left you,” Finn corrected, since they both knew nothing else about why the will was being contested. “And trying to get control of your house and land.”

“Yes. That. I know we didn’t have a conventional marriage, exactly, but we did care for each other. Most importantly, we both poured our hearts and souls into preventing this place from turning into a draughty old mausoleum. Robin wouldn’t be so interested if she knew how much bloody work it had taken, and how much of Jimmy’s money we spent.”

“She’d have a good go at spending the rest, though.”

“Yes, she would. Meanwhile I have a massive estate to run, and most of the staff who left when Jimmy died haven’t been replaced. As much as I don’t fancy it, let’s get that big vet company out to see us. They must have at least one specialist who knows horses.”

“You really don’t want to give the town vet a chance?”

“Didn’t I just say that they’re not getting my business? The first two tried to “nice me” to death, which you know I can’t stand. Then the new one needs Google Maps to work out the difference between her elbow and her… well, you know.”

Finn smirked, lifting their wine glass. “Thank you for being so delicate. Always such a lady, Suze.”

“Lady of the manor, and don’t you forget it.”

“Your wicked sister-in-law certainly won’t.”

They both took large sips of wine in solidarity. Susannah tried not to think about all her unread emails, about the pile of paperwork in the office waiting for her signature. Right now there was just well-seasoned meat and the satisfying crunch of vegetables, along with Finn’s calming company. No need to dwell on family unrest, or mouthy little vets with ponytails and altogether too much attitude.

“So the vet was really bad, huh?” Finn asked.

Susannah jumped a little at the sensation that she’d just had her mind read. “Never seen anything like it. I mean, she sounds local, so how she got lost I don’t know. She was driving a tank she can’t even handle, and there I find her, blocking the road like nobody else might ever want to use it. Which, fine, people take wrong turns. But she was quite content to sit there aimlessly as though the world would solve the problem for her. All thought and no action, well, that never got anything done. And like I said, it made me late for saying goodbye.”

They were interrupted by the church-bell sound of the front doorbell. All that was missing were a dozen choirboys and it could have been a Sunday afternoon airing of Songs of Praise.

“I thought we were getting that changed,” Susannah complained.

Finn got to their feet, straightening their shirt while still chewing on some rocket.

“Replacing the doorbell is on the list. It’s just about three hundred places from the top.”

“Oh, go answer the door.”

“Fine.”

Susannah had a feeling she already knew who it was, and raised voices a moment later confirmed it. She wiped her hands with the napkin and took a final mouthful of the wine. It wasn’t going to end until she put in an appearance.

“Robin!” Susannah made sure her utter lack of surprise was obvious as she strode out into the entrance hall. “I didn’t see your name in my calendar. And, Jonathan, here you are again, like the proverbial bad penny.” She tossed Robin’s assistant a withering look.

“Getting an appointment with you is nigh on impossible,” Robin replied in her schoolmarmish voice, snippy as ever. She was the picture of a country wife in her sensible brogues and two layers of tweed. The streaks of grey that were apparent in Robin’s hair when Susannah last saw her a few weeks before had been covered up by an aggressively auburn hair dye. And while she wore no other make-up, there was a swipe of ill-suited coral lipstick at Robin’s lips.

All that was missing was the husband—but Robin, who was in her fifties, had never married. She’d somehow gotten the impression that although neither she nor Susannah could inherit Jimmy’s title, the house and its land would come to her, despite the generous inheritance she’d received from their father, and the fortune she’d made investing it.

Jimmy had explained, before he met Susannah, that his money would go to some sort of charitable foundation; but the facts had never made much of an impression in this particular family feud.

“I’ve been trying to reach Finn here all day,” Jonathan chimed in, “even on the private office line Lord Karlson gave me when I worked here. If we can’t get an appointment, then what else can we do but show up?”

Robin toted Jonathan around everywhere these days like a talking handbag, and Susannah never got a better impression of him than as a sneaky little brother just bursting to tattle at the first opportunity. The fact that he dressed like the unpopular kid in a cartoon didn’t help his case, right down to the fussy dark curls on his head. Well into his thirties, he had the permanent air of a man chasing his lost youth.

“Well, as you probably know from Jimmy saying it often enough, running this estate is a busy job. Not a lot of free time to chat.” Susannah did her best to keep things on civil terms, but Robin’s sheer entitlement drove her crazy. They’d all been born to certain advantages, but Robin was so grasping about wanting what everyone else had. Jonathan was even worse, on her behalf, and whenever he cast a glance towards a vase or a painting, Susannah had the overwhelming urge to make sure it was fixed in place.

“If you’re not up to the job, there are actual family members more qualified. Which is why I felt I had to start this dispute in the first place. And, really, you should be referring to my late brother as Lord Karlson in front of the help. You know what they say about familiarity breeding contempt!”

“It breeds in-laws?” Susannah muttered under her breath.

“Honestly, Susannah, if you would just accept that you’re in over your head, then this wouldn’t need to be acrimonious. You’ve always been helpful. When I take over, I’m sure I could find some sort of project to keep you busy.”

“Oh, could you?” Susannah advanced across the black-and-white marble floor, wishing it looked less like a dusty old chessboard. She could change that if she wanted. Maybe she could invite Robin over to watch someone taking a sledgehammer to it. “And I suppose you’d still throw me out of my house? My home?”

“Now, listen here—”

“No, I don’t think I will. Finn, please show Robin and Jonathan to their car. We’ve got a lot to do this afternoon.”

Finn did their best to corral Robin, but she was on one of her missions and wouldn’t back out without getting the last word. It was funny that no matter how much Susannah looked, she could see nothing of Jimmy’s kindness or quiet nobility in his sister’s face. With her pursed lips and beetling eyebrows, she displayed only temper and sourness. He had always chafed at her snobbery too, how she threw around titles as if they made some people more worthy than others.

His greatest weakness, though, had been opportunistic men like Jonathan, after money and status when Jimmy had been offering simple, discreet affairs. Susannah had spent years turning the agreed blind eye as men had come and gone from the periphery, as women had quietly drifted in and out of her own life in turn.

“You’ll be hearing from me. And my solicitors. You’ll regret fighting me on this,” Robin warned as Finn finally guided her out of the door and down the drive, Jonathan scurrying in their wake.

That left Susannah alone in the cavernous entryway, surveying the kingdom she never exactly asked for.

“Fucking hell, Jimmy. Couldn’t you have broken it gently to your sister before you died? How long am I going to pay for this?”

The house held its stifling silence, of course. Susannah was getting used to the echoing emptiness with each passing day. Everything of Susannah’s had come from a lot of hard work. She came from a titled family in her own right, one older and, in fact, far more distinguished than the Karlsons. Unfortunately, her father had been careless with his gambling, his drinking, and his temper, meaning their estate had all but been stripped for parts while Susannah was yanked in and out of boarding school depending on whether the fees had been paid on time.

Then, like something out of a depressing pulp novel, Susannah had gotten herself into trouble at one of the draughty old schools for sneaking vodka and kissing girls, a shame that even her usually shameless parents couldn’t endure. She’d learned the hard way that her value was in snaring a husband who’d keep them all in a more reliable kind of luxury.

She’d never expected to find a kind man with secrets of his own. Jimmy had simply been looking for a business partner, a wife to keep the other ladies charmed on shoots and endless, tedious dinners. Even with money and power, Jimmy hadn’t ever been able to confront where his real preferences lay.

“I need another drink,” Susannah said to no one, but she ignored the kitchen and its wine. Heading upstairs to the first floor, she made a beeline for the heavy oak door, last on the right. The one thing she had achieved in this first year of widowhood was redecorating their once-shared home office, making it uniquely her own. The old décor, the wooden panels and the Oxford-library desk lamps, had been too much a reminder of her dear, departed partner. Though they’d never shared a bed, they had shared countless hours in this room plotting and planning, trying to get the best out of the estate.

Susannah stood by the fireplace a moment, the bland oil paintings replaced with splashy modern art on canvases that broke up the clean white lines of the walls as she’d redone them. The days and nights they’d worked in here, her one great frustration had been that Jimmy was reluctant to modernize. Now she had the freedom to do just that, but still the obstacles came on every side.

The office also had the benefit of a crystal decanter filled with a fine single malt, not to mention the overstuffed sofa by the huge windows, where her next stack of paperwork was crying out for attention.

“Here’s to you, my old man,” Susannah said after pouring a generous measure into a heavy-bottomed glass. No ice, no splash of soda. Just the unadulterated peaty taste of a twenty-year-old whisky that she’d taken a shine to. “I rather think if I’m going to piss off your sister, I’m going to go all the way with it. It’s time I stopped hiding behind the details of keeping this place afloat and tried the full-steam-ahead approach.”

The views out over the stunning, peaceful gardens were a balm every time she looked at them. They were all in the order of manicured lawns and geometric hedges.

Her parents had never made it to Midsummer to spoil the idyll with their entitled, drunken behaviour and pointed homophobic remarks. They’d passed in a boating accident just a few weeks before Jimmy made his proposal-cum-business-arrangement, and the prospect of a fresh start had helped Susannah through her very complicated grief. Yes, this was the place to take refuge. And the place to revive her old, ignored plans.

The first note on the pile was a reminder of her earlier appointment at the vet’s. Susannah sipped her drink and snorted at the sad little sticky note. She was about to scrunch it up and toss it into the wastepaper basket, but her hand stilled before letting it fly.

Were they really so bad? Enthusiastic in the wrong ways, perhaps, but Susannah already knew how the stables would run, as a planned sanctuary for former racing and workhorses. She had the money to throw at it, but the real costs would be the veterinary care for those poor animals who’d lived a life of exertion and stress. The estate had always kept horses, but just for family riding or the odd local hunt, back in the dark days when those had still been legal.

Was it so terrible to take a chance on the plucky local vets? And even if that Tess woman was new in town today, she was almost certainly from around the area. Susannah had grown up far enough away to notice the difference. What was her story? She was not that young, close to Susannah’s own forty-two years at a glance, so there must have been a life somewhere up until this point.

It was just another headache in a day full of them. The crunching of tyres on gravel signalled that Robin and Jonathan had finally gone, with their lawsuits and threats.