Christmas At Pemberley: And the Bride Wore Prada. Katie Oliver

a sip of water and offered nothing further.

      ‘And what do you think of our wee castle, Mr Gordon?’ Archibald enquired. ‘Being that you’re a fellow Scotsman, I’m curious to know your opinion.’

      ‘I don’t know much about castles, I’m afraid. I grew up in a tower block in Edinburgh. It was nothing like this, I can assure you.’

      ‘That must’ve been difficult.’ Laird Campbell eyed him with interest. ‘Nevertheless...you made your way out of there and went on to become a highly regarded businessman.’ He raised his wine glass. ‘That’s a heroic accomplishment in my book.’

      ‘Thank you.’ Rhys took a sip of his wine and glanced around the table. ‘I found an interesting room during my explorations this morning, at the top of the west tower. There were books, and a desk, as well as some intriguing paraphernalia – Maori weapons, a didgeridoo, even a West African talking drum.’

      Tarquin glanced up. ‘That was my brother Andrew’s study, Mr Gordon,’ he said quietly.

      There was an awkward silence.

      ‘I see,’ Rhys murmured. ‘I apologize. I’d no idea. I shouldn’t have gone poking about like I did.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ Penelope Campbell reassured him, and smiled as the soup course arrived. ‘Andrew’s been gone for eighteen years, Mr Gordon. I keep meaning to clear his things away, but...’ her words trailed off. ‘I can’t quite bring myself to do it. By leaving everything exactly as it is, I can pretend that he might come back.’

      ‘Excuse me.’

      They looked up to see Colm standing in the doorway, flat cap in hand. ‘I’ve brought in your luggage and left it in the entrance hall, Laird Campbell,’ he said.

      ‘Good man. Come in,’ Archibald invited him.

      Helen sipped her wine and studied Colm over the rim of the glass as he took a couple of wary steps into the dining room. Although his face remained impassive, he looked a bit out of his element, like a thief at a policemen’s ball.

      ‘Join us for lunch, MacKenzie?’ Laird Campbell asked.

      ‘Thank you, no.’ Colm’s words were polite but firm. ‘I’ve work to be doing. If there’s nothing else?’

      ‘No, not a thing. Off you go, then, and thank you.’

      And as he left, striding past Laird Campbell on his way out, Helen was suddenly struck by the resemblance between Colm MacKenzie and his employer. They were roughly the same height and build, with the same dark-ginger hair; they even shared the same long Campbell nose.

      Why had she not noticed it before?

      Was the resemblance merely coincidence? Or was it, perhaps, something more?

      Before she could ponder the matter further, the main course arrived, carried in by Mrs Neeson, the housekeeper, who was lending a hand in the kitchen, and Helen had no choice but to put her curiosity aside and join in the conversation around the table.

      ‘We just got another of them odd phone calls,’ the housekeeper informed Mrs Campbell as she deposited the food and turned to go.

      Penelope frowned. ‘Odd? How so?’

      ‘When I answer, they don’t say nary a word.’ Mrs Neeson shook her head in irritation. ‘But someone’s there all the same; I can hear ’em breathing.’

      ‘Perhaps it’s a naughty phone call,’ Gemma suggested with a smirk.

      Mrs Neeson snorted. ‘If that’s what our mystery caller has in mind, he’s barking up the wrong tree, he is.’ She turned and sailed back out the door in high dudgeon.

      ‘How do you like Scotland so far?’ Mrs Campbell asked her assembled guests as she reached for her glass.

      ‘It’s lovely,’ Natalie enthused.

      ‘Gorgeous,’ Helen agreed. ‘So picturesque!’

      ‘So much bloody snow,’ Dominic grumbled.

      Penelope smiled. ‘I quite understand how you feel. When I married Archie and he first brought me up here from London, I thought I’d never get used to it. It snowed constantly. The castle was terribly cold all that first winter. The boiler was temperamental; when it died, we had to stay in the drawing room and kitchen, huddled by the fireplace, until it was replaced. Every night, we slept under a massive pile of eiderdowns.’

      ‘It sounds very romantic,’ Gemma observed.

      ‘Oh, it was. Although at the time I didn’t think so. I didn’t know a shooting brake from a motor scooter, did I, darling?’ Penelope turned to Archie with a smile. ‘I was so incredibly stupid!’

      ‘My wee Sassenach,’ her husband said fondly, and reached out to cover her hand with his. ‘You were a Londoner, I dinnae expect you to know about such things. Did you know,’ he told the others, pride plain in his voice, ‘that my lovely wife was once a model?’

      ‘A model?’ Natalie echoed, and leant forward. ‘How exciting.’ She studied the woman’s dark-auburn hair and green eyes. ‘I thought your face looked familiar, somehow.’

      She blushed. ‘I was no supermodel, mind, but I made a decent living at it.’

      ‘Oh, don’t listen to her,’ Archie scoffed. ‘She was quite the celebrity in her day! Had flings with a couple of film stars, she did, and then there was that chap – oh, what was his name, darling? I always said he was sweet on you...he almost ran for prime minister?’

      ‘Graeme Longworth.’ She spoke quietly.

      ‘Longworth! Yes, of course. He didn’t run, though. There were rumours of a scandal of some sort, and so he withdrew.’

      The conversation moved on to other subjects, and there was much conjecture as to whether it would snow again; but although she joined in the discussion, Helen couldn’t help but notice that Penelope Campbell remained strangely silent for the rest of the meal.

      ‘How in God’s name could this happen, Natalie?’ Rhys demanded.

      Natalie’s lower lip trembled as she met his eyes. They’d gone back to their room after lunch, and she told Rhys straight away that she was definitely pregnant. He listened without expression. Now, his face was hard and his eyes were dark with anger. She’d never seen him quite so furious.

      ‘This wasn’t what we planned,’ he ground out. ‘We agreed to wait! How could you let this happen?’

      ‘It’s not like I did it on purpose, Rhys!’ she protested. ‘I’ve been very careful! I haven’t missed a pill, so I honestly don’t know how it could have happened…’

      ‘But it did happen. You’re pregnant. And are you quite sure,’ he added, rounding on her suddenly, ‘that you didn’t do it on purpose? You’ve talked of nothing else but having a baby since the day we got married.’

      ‘Yes, I do want a baby! Is that so terrible? But you can’t really believe that I’d deliberately disregard your wishes, can you? Because if you do,’ Natalie added, her voice unsteady, ‘then you don’t know me at all.’

      There was a small, charged silence.

      ‘I don’t know what the hell to think,’ Rhys snapped. ‘My God, Natalie – I’ve barely got Dashwood and James back on track. There’s still a lot of work to be done to strengthen the finances and stabilize the company. I’m just getting used to being married after so many years on my own! And now...this.’

      Natalie blinked the tears from her eyelashes and glared at him. ‘Yes, Rhys ‒ this.’ She put a hand protectively over her stomach. ‘I’m sorry if our baby – our inconvenient baby – doesn’t fit in with your plans, and I’m sorry if our marriage has been such a difficult thing for you to come to terms with. I’d no idea you felt that way. Perhaps,’