Highland Fling (26 page)

‘If you’ve got some sugar. Why don’t you come back and see?’

‘I’m with Gloria now. I don’t want to leave her.’

‘Would you have to leave her? Couldn’t you bring her with you?’

‘She’s got two sons. You’ve seen them.’

‘So? They’re welded to the sofa, are they?’

Philip laughed. ‘I think they are, actually. But how could I come back?’

This wasn’t a rhetorical question, so she answered it. ‘You could rent a flat near the mill. Are the boys in education? Would moving disrupt that?’

He shook his head. ‘Gloria’s got a job, but she doesn’t like it.’

‘Where did you two meet?’ Jenny leant back against the food cabinet and sipped her coffee. It was surprisingly heartening.

‘In a pub. It’s what she does, she’s a barmaid.’ Another wry smile. ‘A cliché, isn’t it? The laird’s son running off with a barmaid.’

‘Except that you’re the laird, Philip. Your father’s dead.’

He sighed. ‘I know. But no matter what I do, I’ll never fill his shoes.’

‘I don’t want to offend you, but I don’t think he ran the mill all that well. I’m sure you could do better if you tried. Or you could get Iain involved in the management.’

He shrugged again.

‘And if Gloria is a barmaid, she could surely get another job?’

‘I suppose.’

‘You don’t have to come back for ever. But you should see your mother, Philip. I know she’s a very domineering woman, but she loves you and you love her. If she should die and you hadn’t seen her, you’d never forgive yourself.’ She hesitated. Tm so sorry if that sounds like emotional blackmail. It wasn’t meant to, but I think what I said is true.’

‘Mm.’

‘The plans we’ve got for the mill are very exciting. We’re going to use all that merino wool in the warehouse and make a special sort of felt out of it, which can be made into wonderful clothes. We’re going to use unusual fibres, like llama and alpaca – probably spin them and knit them into designer sweaters.’

She stopped, aware that one major money-making scheme was dependent on Philip.

‘Come back and be part of it, Philip. Why don’t you?’

‘I can’t believe you found Philip!’ squealed an already excited Felicity as they joined the main road. ‘Is he coming home?’

Jenny adjusted the windscreen wipers, glad that the rain was beginning to ease off. ‘He’s coming for a visit, on his own. He’s not making any promises. He’s not sure about the mill either.’ She didn’t add that she shared this uncertainty. What did Ross Grant-Dempsey plan to do to him? While psychologically, for the workers, having Philip back might be very
positive, from her and Kirsty’s point of view, he might be just another obstruction. And they had enough of those to make Jenny very wary of letting him through the door. She would have to discuss it with Kirsty tomorrow.

‘But that’s marvellous! Mama will be so pleased!’

‘I take it you had a nice time, Fliss.’

‘Blissful. He is such a nice man.’

Jenny wanted a bit more than a long silence. ‘Did he kiss you, then?’

Felicity nodded.

‘Anything else?’

‘Not telling.’

‘I’ll take that as a yes, then.’

Felicity closed her eyes. ‘As you wish. But I do think ifs good that Philip’s coming. It’ll make Mama so much more amenable to my marrying Lachlan.’

‘Oh? It got that far, did it?’

Felicity shook her head. ‘Not yet. But I’m fairly sure ifs going that way.’ She sat up and looked at Jenny. ‘And I’m sure you’ll think I’m awfully shallow and that I should just go and live with him, but I really want a proper wedding. White dress and all. Be married from Dalmain House.’

‘I think that’s a lovely idea,’ said Jenny, as enthusiastically as she could. ‘Just as long as you don’t want me to organise it.’

‘Oh no. It won’t be until the spring at the earliest. He hasn’t actually asked me yet, after all.’

Having decided not to be mysterious about her day, Felicity spent the rest of the journey talking about Lachlan, his property and his plans. She had also picked up quite a lot about llamas. When she got on to
the subject of her wedding dress, Jenny broke in,

‘Well, I think for the sake of family loyalty, your dress should be made of nuno felt. It would be so unusual, and could look sensational. You should see the pictures the felt woman brought with her. Some of the clothes were lovely.’

‘It’s a thought, I suppose. Oh! Did I tell you? I was playing around on the Internet while Lachlan was doing something, and I came across the name of a girl I was at school with. She’s got a little shop in Covent Garden.’

‘Oh.’ Jenny was tired, and was beginning to wish Felicity would stop talking.

‘Yes. It sells designer knitwear and special handmade clothes. I thought if I designed it, she could make my wedding dress.’

‘Or,’ said Jenny, swerving slightly as she took her mind off her driving, ‘she could be an outlet for Dalmain Mills! We might have to go down and pay her a visit. Was she a good friend?’

‘Very. The only one who wasn’t a complete bitch.’

‘Would your agoraphobia let you go as far as London, with me, on a train?’

Felicity nodded. ‘Might do. Having Lachlan, even if I don’t see him much, does make a difference.’ She lit another cigarette. ‘Sorry, Lachlan doesn’t like me smoking, so I’m a bit low on nicotine.’

I’ll try and organise the London trip right away.’ If she could tell bloody Ross Grant she had a designer shop in Covent Garden willing to take their stuff, that would bloody well teach him!

‘No hurry,’ said Felicity. ‘After all, he hasn’t proposed yet.’

Chapter Sixteen

When Jenny saw Ross’s Land Rover parked outside the house, her heart lurched, sank, and ended up spinning, like a coin, undecided which way it should fall. Her brain was equally affected. What was he doing there? He was supposed to be away.

By the time she’d parked the car she had rejected the idea of dropping Felicity off, and driving off to visit Meggie. She ought to know why he was there. He could be threatening Lady Dalmain, measuring up the windows for new curtains (which, God knew, they could do with). Information was power, and if she ran away, she would only get it second hand.

‘Are you all right?’ Felicity asked, as Jenny slammed the car door. ‘Does that Land Rover belong to someone you don’t want to see?’

‘Pretty much,’ she said. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t be rude, or anything.’

Felicity giggled. ‘I can’t imagine you ever being rude, Jenny.’

Oh, can’t you? Well, let’s hope I don’t threaten your imagination too much, she thought, wisely allowing Felicity to go in front of her, so she would get the first shower of dog hairs.

As Jenny looked through the open door of the drawing room she saw Lady Dalmain seated, a glass in
her hand, a man on either side of her. She looked happier and more handsome than Jenny had ever seen her. And she’s going to be even happier than this when I give her my news, she thought. Only then did she allow herself to glance at Ross. He was wearing a kilt.

‘You’re back at last!’ called Lady Dalmain. ‘Come and have a drink.’

‘I must just go to the loo,’ said Jenny to Felicity, unwilling to see Ross without a few minutes to prepare herself. ‘I’il join you in a sec’

What is he doing here, and why is he wearing a kilt? Is it a good or a bad sign? Her reflection in the speckled mirror gave her no answers, it just revealed mascara under her bottom lids, and a distinct need for lipstick. She didn’t want to look as if she’d made an effort, but on the other hand, lipstick did make one braver. They didn’t call it ‘The Red Band of Courage’ during the war for nothing. She fished about in her handbag and smeared some on.

Felicity was already established with a drink in her hand when Jenny arrived in the drawing room.

‘There you are at last,’ said Lady Dalmain. ‘Ross, this is Jenny, Jenny Porter. Ross Grant-Dempsey.’

Ignoring Ross’s outstretched hand, Jenny said, ‘But we’ve met. Ross Grant is the man Dalmain Mills owes all the money to. Surely he told you that?’

‘Jenny –’ Henry was shocked and horrified by her directness – ‘there’s no need to be rude!’

‘Yes, really, child,’ Lady Dalmain snapped. ‘Mr Grant-Dempsey has made it perfectly plain who he is. There’s nothing underhand going on. I consider it only good manners that he has come here to introduce himself.’

‘Oh, good.’ Unrepentant, Jenny glanced at Ross out of the corner of her eye, better not to look at him directly. She would either cry, throw something, or worse, kick his shins, and Henry would never forgive her. And it wouldn’t do a lot for the mill, either.

‘Felicity, get Jenny a drink, will you?’ went on Lady Dalmain, ‘and remember Jenny likes her whisky neat.’

‘Oh, I’ll get it,’ said Henry, horrified all over again. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea for Jenny to drink whisky without water.’ He was, she noticed, wearing a very nice suit. He was a handsome man, but somehow, next to Ross in his kilt, his handsomeness seemed somehow soft, unmanly, almost. ‘After all, you don’t drink it at all at home.’

Jenny, who could have really done with one of Felicity’s mammoth drinks, concealed a sigh. ‘Thank you, Henry,’ she said, taking the glass.

Without looking at him, she could sense Ross despising Henry. How dare he? So far, Henry had not spectacularly betrayed her, although if he was secretly negotiating to sell Dalmain House, he might, but he hadn’t yet behaved as badly as Ross Grant. She allowed herself another quick look at him. It proved a mistake; whatever her brain thought about him, her body still thought he was the most attractive man on earth.

She crossed the room to an empty chair and sat on it, wishing she had a proper drink – either whisky or water, or a cup of tea, but not this pale, luke-warm fluid.

‘So, what have you girls been up to today?’ asked Lady Dalmain.

‘This and that,’ said Jenny, hastily, wishing she’d
thought to warn Felicity against mentioning Philip. Jenny didn’t want anyone to know she’d found him until she’d had a chance to think how best to break the news. ‘You’ve been busy entertaining.’ She directed a smile at Lady Dalmain, her face muscles resisting the effort. ‘How nice on such a horrid day. And I thought Mr Grant-Dempsey was going away.’

‘Jenny’s got some good news,’ volunteered Felicity, seeing her mother about to pounce on Jenny again.

‘Oh?’ Lady Dalmain regarded her, head on one side.

‘I’ll tell you all about it later. It’s a bit boring for general consumption. I think it would be much more interesting to hear Mr Grant-Dempsey’s plans.’

‘I came to introduce myself. I find it a good idea to discover the most interesting person in the district and then try and make a friend of them.’

Lady Dalmain was quite as charmed as Ross intended she should be. Jenny seethed.

‘But you told us at the mill that you were going away.’

‘I am, tomorrow.’

It was no surprise to her, but somehow the news felt like a blow. However much she hated him, she wanted him near, possibly to hate him better.

Henry was standing behind Lady Dalmain’s chair. Jenny watched him, aware that never, even when she first met him and was delighted by his charm and his good looks, did she want him in the way she wanted Ross Grant. But was it sensible to give up Henry, whom she knew and understood and had once loved, just because he didn’t affect her like a man she knew to be so thoroughly bad? Just because the man turned her whole body into one fluttering, pulsating, erogenous
zone? No, definitely not. But she was going to do it anyway. Ross may not be the man for her, but Henry wasn’t either. Better to be alone.

She glanced at Ross, and he caught her glance. He didn’t smile.

‘Well,’ he said, draining his glass. ‘I must go. It has been so nice to meet you all.’

‘Well, you must come again,’ said Lady Dalmain. ‘For dinner. Jenny’s a very good cook.’

‘I can vouch for that,’ said Henry.

‘But he’s going away,’ said Jenny.

‘But I am coming back. We have a meeting, if you remember.’

‘We’ll arrange it for when you come back, then,’ said Lady Dalmain. We’ll have a dinner party. Write your telephone number down somewhere, and I’ll be in touch.’

‘That would be very kind, Lady Dalmain,’ said Ross, ‘but I wouldn’t want to put anyone to any trouble.’

‘Oh, doing a dinner party is no trouble to Jenny,’ said Henry. ‘We have them all the time at home, don’t we, sweetie-pie?’

Jenny forced a smile, trying to be non-committal.

‘In which case, I would be delighted to come.’

‘I am extremely committed at the mill,’ said Jenny, ‘as you know, Mr Grant-Dempsey.’

‘Don’t fuss, pork chop. I’ll lend a hand. And I’m sure Felicity would too.’

‘Yes, of course,’ agreed Felicity. ‘Can I invite Lachlan? Oh, and Philip.’

Every eye in the room turned on Felicity. Only Jenny was shaking her head mouthing, No, no!

‘What did you say?’ demanded Lady Dalmain.

‘Was I not supposed to tell anyone, Jenny? Jenny’s found Philip.’

Now every eye was turned on Jenny and she felt her colour rise in response.

Lady Dalmain sank into her chair. ‘What! Oh, how marvellous! When is he coming home?’

‘I don’t think he’s actually going to come home just yet,’ said Jenny. ‘But he would like to come and see his mother.’ She didn’t look at Ross.