“I’ve been working alongside my step-father until he grew ill and then I took over from him. I’ve been managing the estate while Bill has run the training center.”
A blast of anger pulsed through his veins. “You will no longer run the estate,” he said.
“I’ll have to,” she shrugged, “if you want business to continue.”
“There’s no need. I will talk to the manager and he will tell me everything I need to know.”
She raised a beautifully arched brow and he again sensed her power and her strength. “You want to talk to the manager? You’re already talking to her.” She even had the gall to step closer to him and look up into his eyes. “Iamthe manager. My step-father dismissed the previous one for incompetence—an incompetence I uncovered, by the way. And, if you wish me to tell you anything about estate business, you’d better stop treating me as if I’m stupid,” she said, walking toward the door. There she stopped, and looked over her shoulder at him. “If you want to know about the estate, you can join the meeting tomorrow afternoon in the estate office and I can begin educating you.”
She closed the door on him before he could utter any word of agreement.
He’d laid down the law, but how come she’d turned the tables on him?
Chapter3
Sebastian’s brothers hadn’t hung about. Eager to get on with their lives, and enjoy their good fortune, they’d left that evening bound for London. Sebastian wasn’t sorry. The contrast between his lot and theirs was irksome and his brothers hadn’t stopped teasing him about it. Neither of them had a care in the world as far as he could see, and their father’s will had only given them greater freedom. Whereas Sebastian had surrendered his freedom, and for what? Marriage to a stranger and part-ownership of his home. But, as he walked through the grounds the following morning, with the early morning sun’s rays cutting through the woods and sending shimmers of light across the lake, Sebastian knew that even a part of his home was more important to him than anything else. And, if he could gain possession of the entire estate, he knew he’d be even happier. But how? The only way would be for Indra to agree to leave, and she didn’t seem willing to do that. Which left the question, how could hemakeher leave? He had no idea but he knew where to start.
The rest of the morning was spent on the computer and phone, trying to figure out exactly who he was dealing with. Who was Indra Anand, where had she come from and, more importantly, how could he get rid of her? He’d checked the usual suspects first—Facebook, local news, other social media accounts, but had drawn a blank. It was as if Indra and her mother had arrived at Richmond Estate without a past. He was beginning to think that maybe shedidhave something lurking in her past he could use against her. There was only one way to find out, so he’d contacted a private investigator and given himcarte blancheto find out everything there was to know about the woman. Meanwhile, he’d turned to the estate staff to see if he could dig up any information amongst them.
All he knew was that they were of Indian heritage—that much their looks attested to. But from which country they came—India, Malaysia, Indonesia, or someplace else—he had no idea. And, despite discreet enquiries made to estate staff and others she’d had dealings with, no one could give him any information of any kind. They couldn’t confirm what kind of accent her mother had had, or shed any light whatsoever on either of them. Indra’s accent revealed nothing. It was pure upper-class English which had been gained, he supposed, by the tutors his father had employed to home-school her. He and his brothers had been shunted off to boarding school from a young age, but it seemed his father’s love for Indra ran deeper than for his own sons, and he hadn’t wanted her to be away from him. Or maybe it was safer for her that way.
So he had no idea where they’d come from and, with zero social media presence, he had no idea whether she had any friends or interests outside of the estate. And, he was beginning to suspect, both of these things were deliberate. One thing hehadlearned from the estate staff was that she would go to great lengths to avoid having a photograph taken. Strange by all accounts, but especially strange for a gorgeous woman in her early twenties, when most of her peers were pouting on Instagram or TikTok. But maybe she was older than she looked. He had no idea because he couldn’t even find out her true age. No wonder he and his brothers knew so little about her, or her mother, before his father’s death. Charles Richmond had protected them both from the outside world and he didn’t have a clue why. But, without his father’s protection, the beautiful Indra was exposed. Now all he had to do was discover what it was she was exposed to. Which is where the private investigator came in.
He refused to give up. What had begun as mere curiosity had become something much more serious, because he sensed there was something strange going on. People were only ever secretive about their past if they had something to hide. And, if Indra had something she wanted to hide, then it might be worth his while knowing exactly what that was. He might be able to use that kind of information.
He looked up from his computer when he heard footsteps on the stairs, and then the front door open and close. He glanced at his watch. It was time for the meeting. And maybe a tête-à-tête before might help him fill in the gaping holes in her background.
“Good morning,” he called, too loudly for her to ignore him. That would have been rude, and if there was one thing he sensed about this gentle, yet strong, woman, it was that she was polite to a fault. He watched her step falter, and then come to a complete halt before her shoulders rose and fell as she heaved a frustrated sigh. He grinned. “And what a fine morning it is,” he said, walking up to her, determined to be the man he wasn’t—polite and attentive. Maybe that way he’d find out something about her.
She turned to him. She might be polite, but she was also transparent. Irritation was written all over her face. “You might think so.”
“And you don’t?” he said, falling into step beside her, as they crunched over the gravel drive toward the estate offices. “The sun is shining.” He hesitated as he tried to think about the kind of things other people would say. He was rewarded with a wry look. “The leaves are coming out on the trees and summer isn’t far away.”
“What’s got into you?” she asked, not looking at him again, but quickening her pace.
He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked around. “Maybe it’s spring.”
“Huh! Somehow I doubt that’s the reason. Besides, there’s more to life than the weather.”
“Like what?” he asked, deciding to feign innocence.
She shot him a sideways glare. “Like making sure the farm shop is well stocked for the bank holiday weekend. It’ll be busy today and a challenge to keep it stocked.”
“What’s the problem? People can come back tomorrow.”
She shook her head as if she pitied him. He didn’t like being pitied.
“What?” he asked, stepping in front of her, hands open, forcing her to stop.
She folded her arms. “The farm shop will be closed tomorrow.”
“Closed?”
“Yes! The estate offices will be closed. It’s a tradition Charles started some years ago. All the estate workers have the long weekend off.”
“That’s a new tradition.”
“Yes, it is.”