While Kate had her misgivings over where she and Ben were headed, she was in no doubt of her direction the following weekend. And with the right man no less. She and Nicholas stood to the side of Aspen Court’s front lawns to watch the Somerset Hunt gather for the day’s drag hunt.
A soggy week had given way to fresh, but chilled, blue skies and the ground remained frosty where Aspen Court cast a shadow over the gardens. Most of the hunt members had sought out the sunshine though as they waited for the Master and his whippers-in to arrive with the hounds, laughing and chatting and enjoying the drinks and nibbles provided by the host.
Kate took a couple of photos of the scene. ‘I’m so glad they still do it,’ she said with a contented sigh.
Nicholas gave her a doubtful look.
‘I mean, I prefer it as it is now, where no fox is killed,’ she explained, ‘but it’s such a wonderful sight, such a strong tradition. Hunts have such bad reputations, but look...’ She gestured to the horses, of all shapes, colours and sizes, all groomed to perfection with manes and tails plaited, and their riders equally well-turned out. ‘Look how smart they all are. And see how the men tip their caps to the women, the etiquette, the pride. It’s just so...’
‘Jane Austen?’ suggested Nicholas.
‘Well, yes, in a way.’
The mournful low of a hunting horn drifted across the estate, soon followed the baying of hounds. The horses became restless as the sounds got louder, until from around the corner burst a magnificent splash of red, tan, black and white as the MFH and his whips arrived with the hounds.
The hairs on Kate’s arms prickled and she snapped more photos. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ she breathed.
‘It’s a great venue for an event,’ replied Nicholas.
‘One of the girls I work with, Frankie Bradford, got married here last year.’
‘Yes, I know. I was there.’
‘Oh!’ Kate said in surprise. ‘I didn’t realise you knew each other.’
‘We don’t. I know Rhys well enough though. God knows he’s ridden enough of our horses over the years.’ Nicholas looked up at the honey-bricked stately home and sniffed in appreciation. ‘I’d get married here.’
‘Mmm,’ Kate agreed non-commitally. She couldn’t deny it would be a fabulous venue if one was to have a grand ceremony and reception. She’d never really imagined herself in that scenario though. Who would she invite? And even if her husband to be had hundreds of friends, she wasn’t sure she’d want to risk her mother making a show of herself in front of so many. And Xander would have to give her away. He’d hate being at the centre of such attention, and a speech would be out of the question.
*
The hounds wove through the crowds of horsemen and foot followers, yelping and baying. With a short toot on his horn, the Master signalled for the hunt to move off.
Kate sighed as they cantered away to where the scent would have been laid.
‘Gosh, d’Artagnan would love this. All the galloping across country and jumping hedges and ditches. No chance of him getting bored doing that.’
‘How’s he recovered from his casting incident?’
‘Much better. He only missed a couple of days’ work, but Jack—’ She hesitated, a concern that had arisen over the past few days resurfacing. She didn’t want to land her boss in hot water with his biggest owner, yet at the same time... ‘Nicholas, do you think Jack is favouring The Whistler over d’Artagnan?’
Nicholas’s brows knitted. ‘How do you mean?’
Kate thought over the previous day’s workout, where Jack had informed her d’Artagnan wouldn’t be having a prep run before Kempton’s Boxing Day meeting. ‘Just that the King George is just around the corner and he’s not prepping him like I’d have thought he’d need to.’
Nicholas shrugged. ‘Well, The Whistler is the more fancied of the two.’
‘Yes, but—’ Kate sighed. She didn’t want to come over all sentimental or to start using her relationship with Nicholas to influence business affairs. ‘But you’d still expect him to train them both to a point where they’re the best that they can be.’
Nicholas pulled his coat tighter around him as a breeze swept across them and grinned at her. ‘I didn’t realise you knew more about training than Jack Carmichael.’
Kate pouted. ‘I’m just saying I don’t think d’Artagnan is at the level he needs to be going into a Grade One race. I ride the horse, I do know something about training,’ she added in defence.
‘He was entered in the Betfair Chase, wasn’t he? Jack couldn’t help him getting cast the night before.’ Nicholas smiled and patted her hand. ‘I’m sure you’ve nothing to worry about. Just let Jack do his job. I have absolute faith in him. Now, shall we go inside and see if we can get some brunch? I believe they’ve opened a tearoom of sorts.’
Like a pulled muscle, Kate felt a twinge of impatience. Annoyance that Nicholas was being so dismissive of her concerns, frustration that there was nothing she could do but watch d’Artagnan line up at Kempton only ninety per cent fit.
*
Inside the warmth of the tearoom, they took the last available table and ordered scones and hazelnut lattes. The room buzzed with chatter from people who’d come to watch the hunt. Kate recognised Tessa Hawkesbury-Loye, Helensvale’s pantomime director, serving customers and making the men blush with her outlandish flirting.
She came over with their order and her eyes lit up in recognition. ‘Kate! How lovely to see you. Did you enjoy the meet?’
‘It was beautiful. Looks like it’s keeping you busy.’
Tessa rolled her eyes in dramatic fashion. ‘This is nothing compared to the spin the Am Dram has got itself into. Bloody Tom has broken his leg falling off his motorbike.’
‘Oh, God. Is he all right?’
‘Well, no. He’s broken his leg. I should think it hurts like a bastard. But that’s not the worst of it. We’re an Ugly Sister short now—’ Tessa’s name was called and she tutted. ‘Got to run. And then find us another Ugly Sister.’
Nicholas looked bemused as Tessa hurried away. ‘What on earth was that about?’
‘The Helensvale Christmas pantomime. We’re doing Cinderella,’ Kate explained. ‘Or we were. It’s a bit close to curtain time to lose one of the big players.’
‘But she said Tom.’
‘We’re doing it old-school gender reversal, so the prince is played by a woman and the ugly sisters by men.’
Nicholas laughed. ‘Are you playing the prince?’
‘No,’ said Kate with a sad sigh. ‘I’m the prince’s pal, Dandini. Frankie Bradford’s taking the starring role. I auditioned, but I imagine my boobs got in the way.’
Nicholas’s eyes skidded south of her face. He turned pink and tried to hide his discomfort behind his latte. Kate tried not to snort. Then a marvellous idea occurred to her.
‘Hey, what about you? Have you ever done any acting?’
Nicholas’s blushes disappeared and he looked horrified. ‘You’re asking me to dress up as woman?’
‘Well, it’s a pantomime. People would understand you’d be doing it for the role. Come on, it’d be fun!’
‘Goodness, no, Kate. I couldn’t possibly,’ he replied with a nervy laugh.
‘You sure? You wouldn’t have too many lines. You’d just have to flounce around like an ugly sister would.’
‘Sorry, no. It’s not my cup of tea,’ said Nicholas in a strangled voice. ‘You should ask Ben. He likes acting the fool.’
No love lost there, Kate thought. Did she and Saskia act the same way?
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence then Nicholas spoke up again, a forced lightness to his tone. ‘So, anyway, it’s my birthday coming up soon. The folks are throwing me a bash to celebrate my big three-o.’
Kate made an effort to eliminate Ben from her mind. ‘When?’
‘January twelfth. The party will probably be the weekend of, though.’
Kate beamed at him. ‘Then I shall make sure I have that weekend off.’
Nicholas patted his mouth with his napkin then folded it onto his plate. ‘What say we have a wander around the house when you’re done, then head home?’
Kate paused. ‘Home being...?’
Nicholas raised a teasing eyebrow. ‘Will my place do? You could treat me to an early birthday present.’
Kate tried to ignore the metaphorical squealing of brakes in her mind. She was being ridiculous. She was dating Nicholas, and they were both adults. So what if he didn’t ignite the same fire in her that a simple touch from Ben did? Ben was his brother; to deny him now, shamed her. Maybe more intimacy would set her on the right track. It would put her head in the right space. Besides, Ben wasn’t an option anyway. He fancied Saskia. She should be grateful to Nicholas that he’d chosen her over her sister.
‘I’d like that,’ she said.