“Oh, Miranda!” Henrietta couldn’t believe someone other than Troy was prepared to go to all this trouble for her.
“I’m going to give you a makeover. Consider it a present. It’s not about finding a man but about feeling good in your skin.”
“I’ve never had a friend like you,” she sniffed.
“Well it’s about time you did. Cate’s a bad influence. By putting you down she pushes herself up. She’s a bitter old cow! You’ve got a really pretty face, lovely soft skin, thick hair and a sweet, endearing smile. I’m not at all surprised that Troy loves you. But God made him gay. There’s someone out there who isn’t gay who will love you and give you marriage and children. I want you to look your best for him. I’m going to arrange for someone to look after the children while we’re in London. We’ll spend the morning in Richard Ward where Shaun will give you the best highlights you’ve ever had, and the afternoon in Selfridges. Leave it to me. We’ll have fun over a glass of champagne and we’ll spend an obscene amount of money.”
“Oh, Miranda. I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. It’s not my money!” she replied with a wink.
Jeremy Fitzherbert sat alone at his kitchen table in front of a plate of bacon and eggs and a cup of tea. Mr. Ben lay on the floor watching him, hoping for another slice of bread and butter, while Wolfgang chased rabbits in his sleep. There was a lot to do in the garden, cutting back shrubs and trees and planting vegetables. However, he didn’t feel inspired. Ever since he had met Henrietta Moon up at the house, he had been able to think of little else.
Jeremy had never been in love. He had enjoyed the odd relationship as a young man, but for most girls, after the initial excitement of dating a rich farmer with a beautiful big house, the reality of farm life had turned them sour. The odd one who had relished living on a farm had driven him mad with ideas beyond his means. The fact was, he was a simple farmer who loved the land. In Henrietta he saw a woman with simple tastes like his own, a voluptuous and juicy body like a delicious fruit, and a smile that revealed a gentle nature and tender disposition. She was perfect, but out of reach. That day up at the house he had given her his heart, even though she had clearly only had eyes for the handsome Frenchman.
Jeremy had accepted defeat without complaint. How could a simple man compete with the dazzling good looks and charm of a foreigner? Jean-Paul was exotic. His accent conjured images of vineyards and eucalyptus trees, foie gras and sunshine. Jeremy had bowed to the greater power and made a dignified exit. However, he had found himself going into town for no particular reason, popping into Henrietta’s gift shop under the pretense of buying a birthday card, or a bottle of bath oil for his mother. In fact, he had spent more money on trifles in the last few months than he had spent in an entire year. His bathroom was full of unopened boxes of soap and pretty glass bottles still in their wrapping. She always smiled at him, which caused his heart to sputter and spit like an old engine that hadn’t turned in years. They chatted about the weather, and she always asked about his cows. He wanted to take her a bottle of warm milk straight from the dairy but every time he was on the point of filling one for her, he remembered Jean-Paul and his confidence stalled. He picked at his eggs and bacon and pondered his future. It looked as bleak as a January day. He wasn’t getting any younger and was losing hair by the minute. Soon he’d be an old, bald farmer and no one would want him. He looked down at his dogs. “Thank God I’ve got you,” he told them. Mr. Ben cocked his head and frowned. “You want another slice of bread?” Mr. Ben thumped his tail on the floor. Jeremy got up and buttered a piece of wholemeal. “There you go,” he said, tossing half at Mr. Ben, half at Wolfgang who opened his eyes when he smelled it right in front of his nose and snaffled it up in one mouthful.
Jeremy was tired of holding back. Hadn’t she said she’d like to come and see his farm? Feeling encouraged he finished his breakfast. He’d take that milk after all and extend an invitation. The worst she could do was decline.
David awoke and stretched, the space beside him empty and cold. He got up and showered. He felt disgruntled, remembering Miranda had asked Blythe down the following weekend. David was trying to distance himself from Blythe. It had been fun for a while, but she had grown needy, telephoning him throughout the day, insisting on seeing him. He had tried to let her down gently, but then she had turned up at his office in a fur coat, opening it a little so that he could see she was wearing nothing but a pair of lace stockings and a little shirt that barely reached her belly. Unable to resist, he had made love to her in the girls’ lavatory, which he now regretted. It had given her the wrong message. Now Miranda had asked her down for a weekend. He resolved to organize a business trip and avoid it altogether.