An Eligible Bachelor Read Free

their screensaver on their computers.
    ‘Yes,’ she replied faintly.
    ‘Sorry, I should probably recognize you.’ He gave her a fleetingly apologetic smile, accompanied by a cursory glance of appraisal. His eyes were navy blue, long-lashed, with deep lines that spoke of sunshine and laughter. ‘I don’t really watch the telly. Only the six o’clock news. Anyway, I’ve been out of the country’
    That would account for the tan, thought Richenda. He didn’t look like the type to take advantage of a tanning cab.
    ‘Really? Where?’
    ‘Cuba. I’ve just spent six months there. Riding and diving. Before it gets totally ruined. Have you ever been?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You should. Before it’s too late.’
    He was gathering up his things, ready to go. Richenda knew she had to pounce quickly. She held out her hand.
    ‘I’m Richenda Fox.’
    She tried to recollect the last time she’d actually had to tell someone her name. He took her hand in his – it was surprisingly warm and dry, not clammy as one might expect after all that exertion.
    ‘Guy Portias.’
    ‘Portias?’ She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. ‘As in…?’
    She waved an all-encompassing hand at the house and grounds.
    ‘Yep. couldn’t ignore the irate telegrams from Mother any longer. I had to come home and do my duty. We’re opening for business as soon as you lot have gone.’
    ‘What sort of business?’
    Guy made a face.
    ‘Country house weekends. Aspirational bollocks for people with more money than sense.’ For a moment his blue eyes looked bleak. ‘You can’t keep a place like this running without selling out.’
    ‘It must be awful.’
    ‘Yep. One up from prostitution, really’
    He replaced the safety guard carefully on the blade. When he looked up, his demeanour seemed more cheerful.
    ‘So – where’s this hot chocolate, then?’
    That had been nearly six months ago. And of course, once Richenda had made up her mind that this was the man for her, there was little that Guy could do.
    She slid out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom. There was just time to make herself look presentablebefore Guy came back with the tea. She spent two minutes with her whitening toothpaste, cleansed her face, applied a hint of mascara and lip gloss and ran some serum through her hair. Then she flipped out her contact lenses, studiously ignoring her reflection while she applied some drops. She could never bear to see those myopic, watery pale-blue eyes staring back at her. She stuck her lenses back in hastily and double-checked the results.
    Perfect. She finished with a squirt of Bulgari to her cleavage then, satisfied that she had perfected that just-got-out-of-bed-but-utterly-irresistible look, slipped back between the sheets to wait for her fiancé.
    The florist’s van had woken Madeleine Portias. She peered out of the window of her flat in the coach house and saw it disappearing through the gates. The little green van with its distinctive logo, ‘Twig’, had been a familiar sight at Eversleigh Manor over the past few months. They’d done very well out of the recent filming, as they’d supplied all the floral arrangements for Lady Jane Investigates which, being a lavish period piece, had been many.
    In fact, the whole community had done well. The inhabitants had moaned and groaned when the streets were blocked off for filming, but the truth is the local economy had boomed. Hotels, B&Bs, pubs and restaurants had enjoyed maximum bookings all year, whether through cast and crew or curious tourists. Now it was coming to an end, though Madeleine had been assured by the producer that Lady Jane was fairly certain to be recommissioned for another series.
    When the location manager had come knocking at thedoor eighteen months ago, Madeleine had been initially horrified at the suggestion that Eversleigh Manor be used for filming. Until the fee was mentioned, and it began to dawn on her that this would be the ideal way of financing her pet