In the hotel lounge, Guy looked up, his eyes conveying confusion at his surroundings. He’d obviously been miles away, out to sea with the Little Ships.
‘Er, sorry?’ He blinked, refocusing on Melissa.
‘Who the hell is Freddie Standish?’ she repeated.
She held the book out to show him. He looked from the image of the assembled cricket team to the caption, clearly puzzled. ‘A typo maybe? A shame we can’t see his face. Although it sort of looks like Sir Albert. But it’s hard to tell. Maybe a cousin or younger brother, perhaps?’
‘Younger brother?’
‘Mm.’ Guy was distracted by his work. ‘Albert inherited it all, the farmland, Tyneham House and the houses in and around the village. If there was a brother, he was bound to be younger. If that’s who this man is.’
Melissa looked at the dark hair with curiosity. Guy bristled next to her, shaking his head when she dog-eared the page.
There was nothing else in the rest of that particular book and flicking through the other two she got the feeling they were going to prove fairly useless too. The mysterious man had only been mentioned once and even then it was simply a picture caption. If it was a typo, it was a pretty big one. Albert to Freddie wasn’t an easy leap. If it wasn’t a typo, the fact that so little space was given to him across three local history books suggested Freddie Standish, whoever he was, really wasn’t that important at all.
While Guy continued typing on his laptop Melissa flicked back to the first book and looked at the blurry image again. She had a feeling about him that she just couldn’t shake from her head.
The minutes ticked by and Melissa gave up on squinting at the picture. She gathered the books into a small pile and sat back while Guy closed his laptop and put his paperwork into his bag. He leaned back on the sofa and then shifted his body so he was facing her.
As she turned towards him, strands of hair fell over one of her eyes and Guy reached forward to brush them away, tucking them back behind her ear. Melissa felt hot all of a sudden. She made a little gasp, only slightly audible, as his hand slowly touched her ear and brushed delicately down her neck. He pulled back suddenly and clenched his jaw, glancing around to see if anyone was watching them.
Confusion coursed through Melissa.
‘I’m sorry.’ Guy leaned forward to take a final sip of his coffee and changed the mood between them entirely.
Melissa laughed nervously while a strange veil of panic replaced confusion. ‘Why are you sorry?’
‘I don’t … I mean, we’ve only just met. I’m not a fan of rushing things.’
‘I agree.’ Melissa wondered where this conversation was going. Surely she wasn’t being dumped before anything had actually got off the ground? That would be a new low.
‘I really like you, Melissa.’ He exhaled loudly and ran his hand through his hair. ‘I don’t want to move too quickly and ruin whatever is happening between us.’
Melissa suddenly felt fuzzy. This was a feeling she wasn’t used to. A man liked her enough not to rush into anything. ‘I agree,’ she said again. ‘That sounds like a good plan.’ She wasn’t used to dating gentlemen.
After he’d kissed Melissa goodnight at her door and returned to his own room, Guy leaned against the back of his door and exhaled loudly. He’d resisted the overwhelming urge to try to take her to bed. He was a man, after all. And she was gorgeous. He was pleased that she’d agreed they should take things slowly and respected that she hadn’t invited him inside for a drink. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to resist an actual invite if one had been issued. He’d meant what he said. He did want to take it slowly. He liked Melissa and he wasn’t going to mess it up the way he’d messed his last relationship up by rushing in too quickly and allowing himself to be swept along too fast. That way led to madness. Not this time.
He paced the room, moving towards the window, and stopped to look up at the clear night sky. His mood shifted as he stared outside and he reached for a small bottle of whisky from the mini bar. His favourite brand was there and he smiled, realising his assistant Philippa had probably organised that particular placement for him. What would he do without her to arrange his high-impact work schedule? But while he rejoiced in Philippa organising his work life, he didn’t even want to think about who had managed his personal life for the past decade and how badly that had ended. He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head as he realised what a complete fool he’d been when it came to relationships.
Inside his laptop bag a stack of papers had been silently beckoning him. He’d been putting them off for the best part of a month. Why? He had a vague idea. Perhaps because it wasn’t a decision that relied on facts, figures, statistics, and easily explained historical events.
He rifled through the bag until he found a large brown envelope. He pulled out the documents inside and flicked through where the little neon tags marked where he needed to sign. Without hesitation, Guy unscrewed the lid of his Montblanc pen and signed his name with a flourish. He’d allowed this to fester for far too long.
He sat down in the chair and looked at the last page as the black ink dried. For all the emotions he thought he was going to feel, he didn’t think it would be relief or freedom. But both flowed through him rapidly. A large smile formed on his face as he sealed the envelope and threw it towards the door of the suite as a reminder to post it in the morning. As it landed on the thick carpet, it made a satisfying thud.
Guy tipped the whisky straight into his mouth from the bottle, bypassing the cut-glass tumbler. He kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the desk, leaning back and savouring the taste of the alcohol. Tomorrow was a new day.