Making Your Mind Up (19 page)

“No no
no
.” Freddie shook his head vehemently, which did his headache no good at all. “Fenella, I'm just being honest, letting you know how things are. Any kind of romantic relationship isn't what I'm after. It's only fair that you know that. But I don't want you to leave. We can still have a nice day together, surely?”

“Handsome and persuasive. How can I refuse?” Fenella's gaze softened as she pushed away her plate and leaned closer. “Now, tell me all about your wonderful wife.”

There was no torture, Lottie was discovering, like the torture of working for someone you lusted after but couldn't actually get lusty with. Being allowed to look but not touch was starting to get to her in a major way.

Tyler was already there in the office when she arrived at nine o'clock, looking breathtaking as usual in a navy polo shirt and faded jeans, and prompting her stomach to do a quick loop the loop. He really was causing havoc with her hormones. As ever, the question buzzing around Lottie's brain, bursting to be let out, was
What
are
you
like
in
bed?

When he looked up from the computer and broke into a grin—oh hell, loop the loop the
loop
—
Lottie wondered wildly if she'd accidentally said the words aloud.

“Hi. How are the kids?”

He always asked. It was the only reference Tyler made to their over-before-it-had-begun relationship. He never tried to kiss her or persuade her to change her mind.

Lottie threw her sunglasses and car keys onto the desk and reached for the mail. “Fine. Getting on well at school.”

“That's good.”

She nodded; it certainly was. It would kill her to think she'd made all that sacrifice for nothing.

“We've got a request for Walnut Lodge.” He tapped the computer screen. “For the second week in December. They want it for their honeymoon.”

“No problem. Ooh, it's Zach and Jenny!” Leaning forward to read the email on the screen, Lottie exclaimed, “They came down here last year with a group of friends. They're a lovely couple, but Jenny despaired of ever getting Zach down the aisle because his parents went through the most horrendous divorce when he was young and he'd always vowed never to marry.” A lump sprang into her throat. “And now they are. Isn't that brilliant? Happy endings still exist.”

“Unless he doesn't know he's getting married, and she's arranging it all in secret,” Tyler drawled. “I always feel sorry for those guys. They go along to what they think is somebody else's wedding, then
bam
, find out their bat-shit crazy girlfriend's organized the worst kind of surprise.”

“Only a man could think that.” Lottie swiped him on the shoulder with her handful of letters. “You're so cynical.”

“Trust me, when it happens to you, it's no fun at all.”

Her mouth dropped open. “
Did
it happen to you?”

Tyler winked. “And you're so gullible.”

“At least I'm not unromantic.” Lottie took another swipe at him with the sheaf of letters. “All bitter and twisted and—”

“Now you're being unfair.” Deftly catching her wrist Tyler said, “I can be romantic when I want to be. It all depends on the girl.”

Uh-oh, dangerous. As the adrenaline skipped joyfully through her body, Lottie realized she'd gone too far. Time to pull herself together and backtrack fast.

Oh, but she didn't
want
to…

Drop the flirting and step away from the man
, ordered an inner voice scarily reminiscent of Miss Batson.
Step
away
from the
man.

Lottie stepped away, took a deep breath.

“Right, well, Freddie loves a happy ending. I'm going to tell him about Zach and Jenny. He'll be thrilled. And don't you email them,” she added over her shoulder. “Just give me five minutes and I'll do it when I get back.”

* * *

Lottie let herself in through the kitchen as she did most mornings. As a rule Freddie was ensconced at the table reading the paper and enjoying a leisurely breakfast, but today the kitchen was empty.

Lottie wandered through to the paneled hallway, then saw that the door to the study was ajar. Hearing the faint sound of a drawer being opened she realized that Freddie must be in there.

Afterward she wondered why she hadn't called out his name as she usually did. Instead, making her way over to the study, she saw the back of a slender dark-haired woman wrapped in an oversize robe, standing in front of Freddie's writing desk.

As Lottie watched through the crack in the door, the woman finished examining the papers in her hand and returned them to the right-hand drawer of the writing desk. Closing it, she then stealthily opened the left-hand drawer and surveyed the contents, pulling out a couple letters and rapidly scanning them.

Lottie had no intention of interrupting proceedings, but the next moment a floorboard creaked beneath her foot and the woman spun around. So this was Fenella Britton.

“I'd ask what you were doing,” Lottie said evenly, “but that would be a silly question.”

Heavens, Miss Batson would be proud of her. Maybe she should train to become a scary spinster teacher and start wearing tweed skirts and Birkenstocks.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” Clapping her hand to her chest, Fenella shook her head. “I'm sorry; I know how this must look. But it's Freddie. I'm just so worried about him.”

Lottie had been worried about Freddie for weeks. With a jolt of fear she wondered if he had been taken ill during the night. “Why? Where is he? What's happened?”

“Nothing's happened.” Fenella fiddled with the lapels of the olive-green toweling robe. “But something is wrong with Freddie, isn't it? I saw all the painkillers in the bathroom cabinet, packets and packets of them. Some are prescription only.” Indicating the letter that now lay uppermost on the desk she said, “And this is from a neurologist. He's talking about the results of the latest scan and the prognosis being poor…oh God, I can't bear it! I've just found him again after all these years and now I'm going to lose him. My Freddie's going to die!”

Tears were pouring down Fenella Britton's cheeks. She looked as if she might pass out. Clutching her arms around her thin body, she swayed against the desk and pushed the letters back into the drawer.

“You'd better sit down,” said Lottie. “Where's Freddie?”

“Upstairs. H-having a b-bath. I'm so sorry. Fenella Britton.” Fenella held out a fragile, trembling hand. “You must be Lottie. Freddie's told me all about you.”

Lottie didn't say that she'd heard all about her too. This was the woman who had discarded Freddie because he hadn't been rich enough to keep him in contention. And here she was, having discovered that he was now very wealthy indeed, snooping through Freddie's private papers. What's more, she'd stayed the night.

“Wouldn't it have been more polite to ask him if there was anything wrong?” Despite the copious tears, Lottie couldn't bring herself to warm to Fenella Britton.

“If he'd wanted to tell me, he could have. But he didn't mention it. Typical Freddie,” said Fenella, wiping her eyes. “He wouldn't want to upset me. He's always been so thoughtful and considerate.”

“Well, you can talk about it when he comes downstairs. Are you leaving this morning?” Lottie checked her watch. “Because I can give you a lift to the station if—”

“Leaving? How can I leave, now that I know the truth?” Vehemently Fenella shook her head. “Oh no, I let Freddie down once before. I'm not going to do it again. He's all on his own. He
needs
me.”

“You only met him again yesterday,” said Lottie. Incredulity mingled with suspicion. Was Fenella actually planning to move into Hestacombe House?

“I've loved him for forty years,” Fenella said simply. “Freddie has no family. He can't be on his own at a time like this.”

Lottie wondered if the no family bit was significant in other ways. Was she a truly horrible person for thinking this?

Aloud she said, “He won't be on his own.”

And then she saw the glint in the older woman's eye and knew she was right.

“You don't want me here, do you? You'd rather deny Freddie the comfort of having someone he cares about take care of him. Why
is
that exactly?” Fenella's voice was as smooth as cream but the underlying challenge was unmistakable.

“I don't know. Were there any bank statements floating around in that desk drawer?”

“No, there weren't.” Fenella tilted her head to one side. “But that's what you're worried about, isn't it? Freddie doesn't have anyone to leave his money to. And you were hoping to keep it all for yourself.”

“Stop this.” Freddie's voice rang out behind them. “What's going on here?”

“I caught her snooping in your desk drawer,” said Lottie. “She was reading the letters from your doctor, and God knows what else.”

“Because I was so worried about you!” Fenella, rushing past Lottie and throwing her arms around Freddie, burst into a fresh torrent of tears. “And now I know the truth. Oh, my poor darling, I can't bear it! How can life be so cruel?”

Freddie actually looked relieved. Lottie watched the tension go out of him as he cupped Fenella's heart-shaped face between his hands. “It's OK. Shhh, don't cry. I'm sorry.”

Don't
comfort
her
, Lottie longed to yell.
Shoot
her!

“Oh, Freddie, my Freddie,” Fenella sobbed into the front of his brown-and-white-checked shirt.

Hang
on, I'll get the gun!

“Now you know why I said I wasn't looking for another relationship.” Freddie's voice cracked with emotion. “How could I do that to anyone? It would be too unfair.”

“Oh, darling, don't you see? It's already too late,” Fenella whispered. “You can't control how you feel about other people.”

I certainly can't control how I feel about you
, thought Lottie.

“It's already happened,” Fenella went on. “Whether we want it to or not. And it may not be the easy option and it might not be sensible, but we're in this together. You and me, whatever it takes, for as long as it takes.” Lovingly she stroked Freddie's face. “Because I'm going to look after you. Right to the end.”

There's always the lake
, Lottie thought longingly.
We could just tie her up and tip her in.

Visibly pulling herself together, Fenella said, “Darling, OK if I have my bath now?”

“Go ahead.” Freddie smoothed her hair. “Take as long as you want.”

Fenella's smile was tremulous. “I will. And you can have a chat with Lottie. Explain to her that I'm not the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Lottie brightened. Witches, now that was an idea. Didn't they used to burn witches at the stake?

Fenella disappeared upstairs to take her bath. In the kitchen Lottie made coffee and listened to Freddie's account of yesterday's events. She especially enjoyed the bit about how Fenella had evidently seen the error of her mercenary ways and had been horrified to discover that he was a multimillionaire, because the only men she wanted to be associated with nowadays were the kind without two ha'pennies to rub together.

And no, they hadn't slept together last night either. They had simply been laughing and talking together for so long that Fenella had ended up missing the last train home.

After hearing far more than she wanted to hear, Lottie said, “I know this is none of my business, Freddie, but I still don't trust her. She was going through your private things.”

“But she's explained why.” He looked defensive. “And I did tell her to make herself at home.”

This wasn't going to be easy. “She accused me of feeling threatened by her because I want you to leave everything in your will to me. Which
isn't
true, by the way,” Lottie added hastily.

Freddie shrugged. “So you say.”

“Freddie! I'm not!”

“I know that.” He looked amused. “But Fenella doesn't, does she? Because she doesn't know you. Just like you don't know her.”

Bursting to retort, but
I
know I'm
right
, Lottie forced herself not to. She gazed steadily at Freddie.

“Touché. Look, I want you to be happy. It's what you deserve. Just…don't do anything hasty, OK?”

“Like rush off to the nearest register office?” One eyebrow went up. “Or change my will and leave everything to Fenella?”

Exactly.
Exactly
.

Lottie said, “Something like that.”

“Darling, it's sweet of you to worry about me.” Freddie's tone was consoling. “I appreciate it. But I'm not some love-struck teenager. Nor am I senile. I think I can trust myself not to get carried away.”

Lottie, who knew better, said nothing. Of course he couldn't trust himself; he was a man.

* * *

“That was a long five minutes,” Tyler observed when Lottie reappeared in the office.

“Sorry. I'll work through lunch.” She sat down and began a to-do list.

“You always work through lunch.”

“You'll just have to sack me then. Ooh,
bloody
pen.” Discovering that her ballpoint wasn't working, Lottie hurled it across the office with such force that the wheels on her chair scooted backward. The pen bounced off the opposite wall and Lottie clunked the back of her head against the shelf behind her desk. “Ouch,
bugger
.”

“OK, here's the deal. I won't sack you if you promise not to sue me for injuries sustained in the workplace. It's entirely my fault for allowing a pen to run out of ink.” Manfully attempting to keep a straight face, Tyler said, “Lottie, what's wrong?”

“You mean apart from the fractured skull?” She rubbed her head. “I've just met Freddie's lady friend.”

“The old flame from Oxford?” Tyler looked interested. “He was telling me about her. What's she like?”

“The words gold and digger spring to mind.”

“Oh well, goes with the territory.” With a so-what shrug, Tyler said, “Does that bother Freddie?”