Meant To Be (Pendleton Manor 1)

His father’s face showed no emotion. “Poppycock,” he said. “She’s been filling your head with nonsense. You always believed every word that came out of her mouth. What is she doing here anyway? Why aren’t you in town with Evelyn? I know where I’d rather be if I was you.”

Harry stepped closer to the bed. “Sophy and I are married,” he said.

For just for a moment she saw what Sir Arbuthnot was truly feeling. Rage because his son hadn’t done what he wanted him to, disgust that he had wed a woman like Sophy, and a burning determination to force him into obedience.

“You fool,” he growled. “You let all that money go? Without it, Pendleton will fall into ruin!”

“I’ll modernise,” Harry retorted. “I’ve wanted to do it for years. And if that doesn’t work I will economise.”

“I’m not changing the way we’ve done things for generations!”

“This isn’t up to you!” Harry roared. “Pendleton is mine and you still won’t let go. Here you are,” and he waved his hand at the bed, “and you still won’t let go! It’s my time, father. Sophy’s and my time.”

“Never!” his father hissed. “You think you’re ready to run Pendleton? You’ve thrown away Evelyn for a nothing girl. You’re not remotely ready.”

Harry stared down at him for what seemed ages. The emotion in the room simmered like a pot about to boil. He turned toward her, taking in her white face, and then he looked back to his father.

“I’m giving you two days,” he said. “Two days to think about the future of our family, and of Pendleton. I know what’s going on here. I’ve had letters from our tenants. They aren’t happy. You’ve made some poor decisions over the past years. Is that why you really needed Evelyn’s money? To cover up your mistakes? I want to run the estate my way, without interference from you, and I want to live here with Sophy. If you can’t agree to that, then I will leave.”

His father laughed in disbelief. “Leave Pendleton! You’re the heir! You’d never leave.”

Harry’s jaw went rigid. “I will, and you can do what you like here. Rule from your bed and hire another manager, try to bully Adam into coming home—I assure you he will not.” He leaned closer, the chords in his neck standing out. “But you and I know that no one will ever love Pendleton like I do. No one will care enough to make sure it carries on for another six hundred years.”

Sir Arbuthnot’s voice turned wary. “What will you do? Where would you go?”

Harry shrugged. “Find somewhere else. Make my own Pendleton. Sophy has taught me that it is possible to find new meaning in life despite misfortune.” He closed his eyes and swallowed, and when he opened them his face was resolute. “I have her, and as long as I have her I can be happy wherever I am.”

His father scoffed. “You won’t be able to leave. I know you. Pendleton is in your blood.”

“Two days,” Harry repeated quietly. “Think hard, Father, because you won’t get another chance after that. Do you really want to be t

he last Baillieu at Pendleton? The one who lost us our heritage? Two days or I leave you here to rot and you will never see me again.”

Sir Arbuthnot stared back at him, mouth a white line, eyes burning. They looked so much alike that Sophy was disorientated, though just for a moment. Then Harry turned to her and gave her a smile. There wasn’t much humour in it but there was love.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s go.”

HARRY

Harry felt strangely elated. He had every expectation that Sir Arbuthnot would refuse his terms, and yet he felt light hearted. Just as he had when he married Sophy.

“Harry?” Sophy tugged at his arm and he realised he had been walking like a madman, so eager was he to get out into the fresh air and away from his father’s sick bed.

He looked around him and found they were already in the white garden. Sophy gazed at him with a worried look.

He bent down and kissed her, a brush of his lips on hers. He had meant it to be only a comfort, but as soon as he tasted her he had to go back for more.

Her arms clung around his neck, her fingers sliding through his hair, and she stretched up on her toes so that she could deepen their kiss. He needed her so much. He had waited until he could confront his father before he rewarded himself like this, and now he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Come, wife,” he said, leaning back, noting the blush in her cheeks. “We have unfinished business, you and I.”

Her blue eyes sparkled as she looked about her, and no doubt she was feeling as if she was home at last. He didn’t want to take her away again, but he knew he might have no choice. He would not live under his father’s rule and he would not let Sophy go.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against her ear, and felt her shiver. “I want you,” he whispered.

She looked up at him through her lashes.

“I’ve dreamt of you every night since you left me. Some nights I begged for you not to visit, but you did. Every night, Sophy.”