Page 39 of The Heiress's Secret Baby

‘You could go to Disneyland.’

She grimaced. ‘I am so not ready for this.’

Gabe glanced over. ‘You will be,’ he said. ‘I think you are going to do just fine.’

* * *

There was something intimidating about meeting other people’s families. Mingling, small talk, conferences, cocktail parties, those posed no fear at all for Polly. But the intimacy and warmth of family homes chilled her.

Even at school she’d hated the invites back to other girls’ houses for the holidays. It was all so alien: in-jokes and traditions, bickering, knowing your place was secure. So different from the formality of her grandparents’ house, a place more like a museum than a home for two children.

Throw in a different language, a tangle of small children and in-laws and her arrival at the Beaufils chateau was a scene right out of her worst fears. She was seized upon, hugged, kissed and exclaimed over by what felt like an endless stream of people.

‘It is lovely to meet you.’ Madame Beaufils linked an arm through Polly’s and whisked her through the imposing front door.

‘Thank you so much for having me.’ Polly did her best to relax. She wasn’t really that comfortable with physicality, more of a handshake than a hug person, but she couldn’t work out how to disentangle herself without causing offence. ‘Your home is beautiful.’

No fakery needed here. Polly had grown up accustomed to a luxurious home; her grandfather still lived in the old Queen Anne manor house in the Berkshire countryside that she and Raff had been brought up in. But the weathered old chateau with its ivy-covered walls, surrounded by lovingly tended gardens that stretched into the vineyards beyond, had something her childhood home lacked.

It had heart.

There were pictures everywhere: photos, framed children’s paintings, portraits and certificates. The furniture in the huge hall at the centre of the house was well chosen, chic but loved, the sofa a little frayed, the mirror spotted with age.

‘It’s a mess,’ Gabe’s mother said dismissively. ‘We put our money into renovating the old barns for the B&B and wedding business, and for turning the wings of the house into apartments for Natalie and Claire and their families. But I like it like this. It feels as if my children are still here with me.’ She looked longingly at a large photo of a laughing, dark-eyed girl.’

‘That’s Celine,’ she said with a sigh. ‘My biggest fear is that she will meet someone in New Zealand and never return to us. It was worse when Gabe was in the States. Paris was better but at least he’s just over the Channel. I can almost breathe again.’

It must be claustrophobic to be needed like that, Polly thought with a stab of sympathy for the absent Celine. But a small, irrepressible part of her couldn’t help wondering what it would be like. Her grandmother was certainly miffed if Polly didn’t meet her for tea and accompany her shopping when she was in town, and her grandfather liked updates on the store. But neither of them needed Polly for herself. Any granddaughter would have done.

‘I’ve put you in the blue room.’ Madame Beaufils led Polly up the grand circular staircase dominating the great hall. ‘It has its own en-suite so you will be quite private. Why don’t you take a moment to freshen up and then come back down for some lunch before we show you around?’ She smiled. ‘Natalie is very excited at the thought of showing off her website to you. She has been compiling numbers all week!’

The room she showed Polly to was lovely. It was very simple with high ceilings, dark polished floorboards and whitewashed walls with a huge wooden bedstead dominating one end of the room. The bed was made up with a blue throw and pillows; it looked so inviting Polly didn’t dare sit down in case the fatigue pulsing away at her temples took over.

Instead she walked over to the large French windows and flung open the shutters to step out onto the narrow balcony. Her room was at the back of the house overlooking the peaceful-looking garden and the rows of vines beyond. She had never seen anything so vibrant, even on her travels—the green of the vines contrasting with the purple hues of the lavender in the distance, set off by an impossibly blue sky. Polly breathed in, feeling the rich air fill her lungs and, for the first time since that devastating conversation with her grandfather all those months ago, she felt at peace.

She reluctantly tore herself away from the view and took her toiletry bag into the pretty bathroom adjoining her room, emptying out her compact and lipgloss. It was time to apply her armour.

Or was it?

Polly stared at the deep berry red she favoured and then slowly set it back down.

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