But how could he deliver an apology when she was undoubtedly not in the frame of mind to receive one?
It was a dilemma that had been puzzling him for a while and he’d spent a considerable amount of time wondering how to manufacture an opportunity to do so before remembering that he was no longer manufacturing anything when it came to her. But now he thought about it, if the chance to apologise arose this week, then he’d try, because frankly the guilt was driving him insane.
The gravel on the drive crunched, and Leo leapt to his feet and strode over to the window of his first-floor study to see who it was. He watched Abby get out of her car, pause, then turn and bend down to reach for her handbag, and as his entire body tensed and his pulse spiked he told himself once again that he’d made the right decision to reschedule his appointments and come here, because, whatever the secondary benefits, all he was really doing was keeping an eye on what was his.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘SO ARE YOU THERE YET?’
Holding her phone to her ear with one hand and swinging her handbag over her shoulder with the other, Abby smiled because a fortnight on and Gemma sounded as if she was still bristling on her behalf.
‘I’ve literally just arrived,’ she said, closing her door and leaning against it for a moment because she could definitely afford to relax enough to have a quick conversation with the best friend who’d been so loyal over the last couple of weeks.
‘And is he there?’
Seeing as hers was the only car she could spy, apart from a small green hatchback that she presumed belonged to the housekeeper, it didn’t look like it. There was certainly no sign of a red—what was it?—V-something-engine, bazillion-horsepower, nought-to-a-hundred-in-a-nanosecond number.
‘Nope,’ she said, ignoring the faint stab of what she would have suspected was disappointment if being disappointed that he wasn’t there weren’t completely and utterly absurd.
‘I’m very glad to hear it.’
Abby was glad too. Truly she was. She’d half expected her words back there in Leo’s car to fall on deaf ears, but to her relief and grim pleasure they hadn’t. She’d told him to back off, and that was what he’d done. He’d actually respected her wishes for a change. Exactly as she’d asked.
Those extremely rare occasions she’d been tempted to call him up or email him with some totally unnecessary point about the party had been nothing more than blips when she’d temporarily forgotten what he’d done. That was all.
The idea that she might have missed him was risible. She hadn’t missed him at all. She hadn’t had the chance, and now that she’d finally got round to deleting those damned Google alerts she hadn’t been tempted once to see if there was news of him. Not. Once.
‘Me too,’ she said firmly.
Gemma sniffed. ‘He’s a scumbag,’ she said for what had to be the thousandth time since Abby had told her what had happened.
‘Yup.’
He was. And she really had to keep remembering it, because lately the tiny part of her that had been flattered at the lengths he’d gone to to win her over when by all accounts he didn’t pursue women had been growing, and from time to time she’d found herself wondering whether she hadn’t maybe overreacted a bit.
Which was a totally loopy way of thinking, so the sooner this party was over, the better, because she could really do with everything settling back down, her thoughts, her behaviour, her life, basically.
‘Is anyone else there?’
‘Not yet.’ Pulling herself together, Abby glanced at her watch and saw that it was only half past eight. ‘But it’s still early.’
‘What’s the place like?’
She looked up and her breath caught. Even though it wasn’t the first time she’d seen the house it still made quite an impression. Honey-coloured Cotswold stone against a cloudless blue sky was a happy combination. And then there was the symmetry of the two-storey façade, the balcony that extended above the front door and the rows of large sash windows that appealed to the perfectionist in her.
She wasn’t particularly into buildings but she had to admit that everything about this one was easy on the eye. Including its owner.
‘It’s old. Huge. Lovely,’ she said, giving herself a quick kick in the shin, cross for letting herself even think about Leo like that. ‘Seventeenth century, maybe. Hundreds of acres. I think the housekeeper said the formal gardens are by Capability Brown. They’re beautiful. Then there are woods, fields and a lake out the back. Your average Oxfordshire manor house, basically.’
‘What does he do with it all?’
‘No idea. But it’s in a bit of a state and could do with some serious TLC so he ought to be doing something.’
Gemma sighed. ‘I wish I could be there.’
‘So do I,’ said Abby and she meant it—really meant it—because this event was going to be a toughie, although she suspected for none of the usual emergency, safety-pin-needed-type reasons, and she could do with her best friend and colleague.
‘Darn celebrity weddings,’ said Gemma dryly.