Miranda's Mount (23 page)

Theo
followed Miranda up the ladder from the boat and onto the quayside. They stood in the night air, both a little breathless and unsure what to say.

‘I had a nice time tonight,’ she said eventually.

‘Me too.’ Theo reached out, pulled her gently to him and kissed her. It was a long, slow, wet kiss. A kiss that might possibly have been enjoyable were it not for the fact that when she opened her eyes Jago was watching from barely ten feet away.

She dropped her hands from Theo’s back and pulled away.

‘What’s up?’ Theo’s eyes were puzzled then he turned. ‘Oh, I see. His lordship.’

Jago’s face was half in shadow. ‘Hello. Had a good evening?’ he asked.

‘A fantastic evening, thanks. Didn’t we, Miranda?’

Her heart
sank. ‘It was lovely. The Fishermen’s Choir did a brilliant gig.’

‘And Theo sailed you home?’

‘No, we walked. What do you think?’ said Theo not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

‘How lovely. Miranda loves boats, don’t you?’ There was no mistaking the dangerous edge to Jago’s voice.

‘I’ve had a nice time,’ said Miranda firmly.

Theo took her hand in his. ‘Good. I aim to please. Now, I’m sorry I can’t come in for coffee but I’ve got an early start. Work has to come before pleasure for some of us.’

Someone turned a light on in the harbourmaster’s cottage and Jago’s face was illuminated. There was a momentary flash of fury on his face then it settled into blankness. Miranda stopped herself from pointing out she hadn’t asked Theo back to her cottage. That would have delighted Jago and she wasn’t in the mood to give either one of them an inch.

‘Now, I hate to leave but I must get home before the tide turns.’

‘Yes, we wouldn’t want you to get stuck here for the night, would we?’ said Jago.

Miranda felt like a bone being fought over by two Jack Russells. She freed her hand from Theo’s and threw him a brief smile, ignoring Jago. Theo brushed her lips with his and said, ‘I’ll call you.’

Miranda longed for a bucket of cold water to chuck over them. ‘Yes, you do that,’ she said sweetly.

‘I can see I’m intruding. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miranda,’ Jago muttered.

Theo threw him a triumphant glare. ‘Goodnight, your lordship.’

Miranda half
held her breath, sure that Jago would shout or swear or show some reaction but instead he gave the slightest inclination of his head, almost as if he was admitting defeat to Theo. Then he turned his back and stalked off towards the path to the castle.

As Theo sailed off to the mainland, Miranda watched him, first from the quay and then from her cottage window, all the way back to the harbour. She flopped down on her bed, trying to make sense of the evening and the encounter between Jago and Theo. Theo had clearly wanted everyone to know she was ‘his’ at the gig; in fact, she had the distinct impression she was his trophy – his war trophy. But, she reminded herself as she shivered in the draught from the open window, how could there be a war if one party wasn’t interested in fighting for her?

The following morning,
Miranda hovered in front of Jago’s desk, having been summoned to his study by a message on her radio. When she’d arrived, he’d peered at her through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses as if he’d forgotten he’d asked her to see him. Then he took them off and lifted his thick, dark hair back from his temples, revealing threads of grey. The gesture and the glasses made him seemed more real and vulnerable and sexy than he ever had before. She felt her resolve to ignore him collapsing like a sandcastle swamped by a wave.

‘You’re wearing glasses.’

He frowned. ‘Yes. Did you expect me to have superhuman powers or something like X-Men?’

She laughed at him. ‘’Course not, but I haven’t seen them before.’

‘I wear contacts normally but my eyes are sore. All that typing, I guess.’ As he pushed the glasses aside, he brushed a pile of papers and a heavy object rolled from under them. Jago scrabbled to catch it but it fell off the desk and landed on the floorboards with a crash. Both he and Miranda dashed to pick the object up, ending up on the floorboards at the same time. Miranda saw it was a telescope and closed her hand around it. Crouched on the floor, inches from him, his eyes, amber-flecked brown without his contacts, held hers.

His
breath feathered her face. She ached for him to lean forwards and kiss her and make love to her on the boards. Instead, she pushed herself to her feet, still keeping hold of the telescope. He straightened up too and she held out the scope, now warm from her hand.

‘Thanks.’

He deposited it in his wire in-tray as if he kept one there every day, but Miranda couldn’t take her eyes off it. She recognised it now. It was an antique brass piece from the nautical room and it had no place in Jago’s study. The cogs in her mind whirred.

‘Jago. Were you watching us last night?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know exactly what I mean. Your study light was on when we sailed into the harbour so what were you doing down on the quayside when we tied up?’

‘Firstly, I came out for some of fresh air and, secondly, I do own the place, so I have a right to be down there.’

‘So you weren’t spying on me?’

A smile spread over his face. ‘With my little telescope? Ah, Miranda, you have a wild imagination. No, I wasn’t spying on you. I was working late and I had a headache, so I went for a walk. It is pure coincidence that I caught you and Theo snogging on the quayside.’

‘Snogging? We weren’t snogging. And as for catching us? We’re not naughty schoolkids!’

He
shrugged. ‘Snogging, kissing, have it your way, I don’t care. Or rather I do care as long as it – he – makes you happy.’

Miranda simmered with a mix of anger and, she had to admit, of hope. Jago
was
jealous.

‘Now can we actually discuss the reason I asked you up here? Southcastle are coming over.’

Her stomach turned over. The last thing she needed was another visit from Southcastle Estates. ‘What for?’ It was a dangerous question and the moment it was out she fully expected him to say he was signing the contract. She felt sick.

‘It’s a final visit to tie up any loose ends before I go to London to sign the deal in front of the lawyers and money men.’

That answer brought no relief. ‘When?’

‘Tomorrow. You won’t be required but I thought it only fair to warn you.’

The next morning, Miranda was in the castle courtyard checking there was space for the fire-eaters and jesters to perform. Pierre Jumeau came across her as she blew an imaginary flame at an imaginary audience. ‘Whooshhhh!’

‘Miranda.
Bonjour
.’ She cringed as he strode up, obviously amused. ‘Sound effects, non? Very good.’

Goosebumps popped up on her arms. ‘We have fire-eaters at the Festival. I was just checking out the space. Um … I didn’t know you’d arrived. I thought you’d be here a bit later than this.’

‘I decided to catch an earlier train and walk over the causeway.’

‘Oh.
Is Andrew not with you?’

‘No. He’s tied up in London and sends his apologies.’

‘Has Jago seen you yet?’

‘No. I was on my way into the castle now.’ He smiled. ‘I have paid my entry fee.’

‘Paid? I must reimburse you.’ She shoved her hand in her pocket for some cash but Jumeau laughed.

‘Don’t think of it. I wanted to arrive as a normal visitor and just wander about.’

Shit, thought Miranda. She was torn between a hope that Fred had been rude to him or that he’d been impressed. She was past the stage of trying to put him off buying the Mount. Once was enough as a joke, now she had no choice but to try to make the best of a bad job. ‘So, how was your visitor experience so far?’ she asked, fighting to sound neutral.

‘Quirky … very British, polite, amusing.’

‘Oh.’

He patted her arm, making her goosebumps almost explode. He really made her skin crawl. ‘And exactly as I’d have expected and hoped. We don’t want to change the character of the place, Miranda. I feel passionate about this property too. It has the potential to be the biggest asset we own. We may take a slightly different approach in the short term but I’m sure you will appreciate what we are trying to do.’

Asset? Different approach? The hairs rose on her scalp now too. Jumeau had the same effect on her as some suave but creepy character from a vintage
film noir
. ‘I …’

‘I
empathise with your loyalty and your passion, believe me, but you can see that Lord St Merryn does not want to take on the responsibility of this place. It is a huge enterprise, one that has become far bigger than one family should have to cope with – one man, in fact, now her ladyship is so frail and planning to leave. I think you know Lord St Merryn –’ he smiled ‘– or should I say, you know Jago very well indeed. For everyone’s sake, and his, you must realise this is the right decision.’

Jumeau glanced behind him. Miranda saw Jago standing by the wall on the other side of the terrace, staring out to sea. He looked tired, bowed down, almost broken. She felt like her own heart, her spirit even, might shatter at any moment. Then she saw Jumeau’s smug half-smile. Bugger that. She’d still fight, for the staff if not for herself.

‘What about the staff?’ she demanded, finally giving up on the niceties.

‘Hmm. Now, if I promised that no one would lose their jobs and that things would stay exactly the same as they are now, would you believe me?’

‘No.’

‘I thought you’d say that. Well, my dear Miranda, that is why I have no intention of lying to you. Of course, things will change when we take over management of the Mount but we’ll have you to guide and advise us. I’d like to offer you a bigger role, not just here at the Mount but within our organisation. There would, of course, be a serious salary to go with it.’

She held her clipboard tighter as her skin grew icier. What was happening here? Was he trying to get rid of her so she wouldn’t cause trouble? Or was it a genuine opportunity? ‘Not at the Mount?’ she asked.

Jumeau was as close as he could get without actually touching her. ‘Do you not want to broaden your horizons as Jago does?’

Jago turned to look at her, an agonised expression on his face. She had the distinct impression he was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. He didn’t want to broaden his horizons, he wanted to escape but she wasn’t telling Jumeau that.

Jumeau took a step back. ‘It’s a big decision and you need time to think about it. I’ll leave my card in your office; it has my private number on it. Now, I must speak to Lord St Merryn about signing the contract.’ He smiled. ‘I think it is more than time we had this deal wrapped up.’

Jago watched
Miranda scuttling down the steps from the terrace, pain stamped all over her lovely face. He saw Jumeau smiling after her then turn towards him. What had he said to her? What had the bastard done to her? Then he laughed at himself. It was ridiculous to be jealous of Miranda and Jumeau. His feelings of jealousy towards Theo, he could understand, if not handle, but Miranda wouldn’t be interested in Jumeau, not in that way.

But what the hell
had
the slimeball been saying to her?

He strode forwards to meet the man, hand outstretched. ‘Good morning, Pierre.’

‘
Bonjour
, Jago. What a beautiful day,
non
?’

‘Very. Shall we go up to my study for coffee?’

Face thine enemies
, he reminded himself, like generations of St Merryns before him, except he wasn’t repelling Southcastle, he’d invited them in with open arms. He was being overdramatic and, worse, letting his emotions rule his decisions. The irony darted through him. Wasn’t selling the Mount the ultimate in emotional decisions on his part? Immediately, he shut out that paradox; it was too complex and painful to deal with.

An
excruciating hour later, Pierre occupied the Chesterfield sofa in his study. The Frenchman closed his laptop with a sigh that could have been satisfaction or relief, but drove Jago irrationally crazy. ‘So we have the contract ready, all the details of the transfer are in place,’ he said.

Jago replaced his coffee cup in his saucer and, with infinite care, placed it on the mantelpiece. ‘I still need my own legal team to go through it a final time.’

‘Of course, and I will have copies sent to all our people, but that is a formality. We agree on the deal and that is what matters.’

Jago’s gaze drifted to the window. He heard children playing on the terrace. ‘Yes, of course.’

Silence hung in the air as Jago listened to the laughter in the courtyard, wondering when he’d hear it again, knowing he never would, not in this time, or place, not here in his home.

‘You know you don’t have to worry about her?’

Jago turned sharply to find Jumeau watching him, hawklike, as composed and calm as he was in turmoil. ‘What?’

‘Miss Marshall. I have a role for her.’

Inside,
his stomach plunged like an out-of-control elevator, but he managed to feign a casual shrug. ‘Jumeau. You’re paying umpteen million for the place. It’s your concern what you do. I can’t worry about individual members of staff.’

There was a smile on Jumeau’s lips, a smile that was knowing and amused. ‘Come now. That’s not quite true, is it? You are a realist and appreciate we will have to make changes. There will be casualties but we’ll do our best to soften any blows.’

‘Casualties?’ Jago’s fingers tightened.

‘I can see that Miranda is … special to you. We are men of the world, Lord St Merryn, and I can assure you she will be taken care of.’

Men of the world? Whose warped, archaic world would that be? Jago crossed to the window, gripped the stone ledge and closed his eyes. He didn’t care what Jumeau thought, he just wanted to punch the bastard’s urbane face in. ‘I’m not sure what you’re implying,’ he said to the open window as he struggled to control his fury.

He turned to find Jumeau with concern on his face. ‘I implied nothing beyond we will behave with the utmost professionalism.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He almost spat out the words.

Jumeau got to his feet. ‘Then we understand each other. We will be back in a few weeks’ time with a date to sign the contracts. It is our main priority now and we will set a date to meet in London. Jago, you have no doubts about this?’