Page 50 of The House at Hope Corner
Ned looked at her for a moment and she could see the worry written deep into his grey eyes. ‘I think I’d be the same,’ he said. ‘If it were you. I’d never want to leave your side.’
Flora swallowed. Oh God, this was going to be even more difficult than she thought it was going to be. How could she do this to him, now, with everything else that was going on? Except that thiswasone of the things that was going on, and if she didn’t do something about it, who knew where it might end.
She raised a hand and stroked the side of his face. ‘I’d be happy with that,’ she said, feeling a lump rise in her throat. ‘Now go and fetch my tea before I die of thirst…’ She gave a cheeky grin as Ned rolled his eyes.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said.
She sat back in her chair once he’d gone, her eyes closed, breathing deeply. This would be so much easier if she didn’t love him quite so much. He was big, awkward, far too much man to fit inside his body, so that his arms and legs did strange things at times, but all that did was just endear him to her even more. Everything he did was born out of the best of intentions, even if at times his actions went wide of the mark. But then he didn’t profess to have all the answers and, she was well aware, neither did she.
He was back before she had time to properly prepare what she was going to say. But then there was no right way; she had realised that while wrestling with her thoughts that morning. She just needed to bring up the subject and see where it went, but that was easier said than done.
Ned put down two mugs on the table and a plate with two slices of cake which he held in his other hand. He drew up a chair in front of the desk, the opposite side to her, and then he sat down, his elbow propped up, his chin in his hand. He gazed up at her, an overtly adoring look on his face. ‘I’m all yours,’ he said, looking for all the world like a lovesick puppy.
She sat back slightly. ‘Ned, don’t,’ she said gently. ‘This is serious.’
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, immediately sitting up and searching her face.
She smiled and reached out a hand. ‘I’m fine, honestly. But I wanted to talk to you. About Caroline,’ she added.
A look of alarm raced across his face. ‘I know she can be a bit of a pain but—’
She cut him off. ‘I think we both know it’s more than that,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘I’ve had trouble figuring her out ever since I arrived,’ she started. ‘And at first I thought it was just me… feeling a bit jealous or something because she always looks so perfect, and she has an amazing figure, and I don’t.’ She held up her hand. ‘No, let me finish. It always seemed on the outside as if she was being friendly, taking me out riding, introducing me to her friends, helping me out, but somehow… every time she did, I felt as if she were trying to make a point, or was laughing at me.’
‘Look, I know she wasn’t very complimentary about your painting yesterday and you’re right, I—’
‘It wasn’t that, Ned.’ She gave him a very direct look. ‘I’m certainly not upset by a comment about my work from someone who doesn’t have an artistic bone in their body, or any appreciation of the beauty of nature. Nor am I upset about the fact that she’s always bloody round here, or that she never has a hair out of place and most of the time I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards, because, actually, I’m comfortable with how I look. I like the clothes I wear, and the way my hair never knows what it’s doing from one minute to the next. They’re me, Ned, that’s who I am, and I can’t pretend to be anything else, nor do I want to. With me, what you see is what you get and, as soon as I realised that, I understood what has really been bugging me about Caroline, which is that sense I’ve had that she’s been playing some sort of game.’
She stopped for a moment to draw in another breath and to quieten her voice which was beginning to rise. ‘And so, when I overheard you talking in the living room with your mum last night about some hold over you that Caroline seems to have, it started to ring my warning bells.’
She lifted her sketchbook from the side of the desk as if tidying her things. The folder full of invoices was underneath, and now in plain sight.
‘And then I found these,’ she said, and patted the folder. ‘What’s going on, Ned?’
She watched as the colour drained slowly from his face.
‘Where did you find those? Did Mum…?’ He looked about, as if the answer might be found in the room, although he didn’t try and deny all knowledge of their existence, she noticed.
‘No, your mum didn’t leave them here. I found them where she’d hidden them when I moved the things from the sideboard so that Fraser could use it. A simple mistake; it should never have happened, and I’d be none the wiser now if I hadn’t…’ She trailed off, giving him a chance to explain. She raised her eyebrows, but still nothing. ‘And of course, knowing that they were private, I didn’t look at them, simply ferried them to their new home. Because I thought that obviously if they were important, as your future wife, you would tell me all about them.’
Ned looked like his world was about to end. All his breath left his body in one ragged rush and he sagged in his chair.
‘Please don’t hate me, Flora,’ he said. ‘Please, please don’t hate me. I couldn’t bear it if you left. You’re the only thing that’s good in any of this.’
He looked up, his eyes suddenly full of tears.
Flora leaned forward. ‘Ned, I never said anything about leaving.’ She reached forward, desperate to take his hand, but he left it, unmoving in his lap. ‘And I could never hate you.’
‘You don’t understand,’ he said, refusing to meet her eyes.
‘Then tell me, Ned,’ she urged.
There was silence for several seconds, no words, no movement; nothing to break the wall that was threatening to rise between them.
‘I can’t,’ he said finally. ‘Because when I tell you about the mess I’ve got myself into, you’ll never speak to me again…’
Chapter Eighteen
There was a wild rushing noise in Flora’s head. She looked at the folder beside her on the desk, a can of worms that suddenly promised to contain far more than she had ever anticipated. Her heart was thumping in her chest; she was scared now because, however much Ned thought was at stake here, he didn’t know the half of it. How on earth had they got to this point?
