and go away.
She loved Dom, but she didn’t love the disapproving looks or the lectures when she didn’t quite come up to his very high standards. Which was quite often.
‘Charlotte, are you listening?’
‘Of course.’ She glanced his way, and the stern look and folded arms meant he wasn’t going to forget, or go away. The black horse, which someone had imaginatively named Badger due to the broad white stripe down his nose, gave an experimental pull on the other end of the rope.
‘She is expecting a baby.’
‘What?’ She spun around to face him properly, inadvertently flicking the lunge whip as she went so that it caught the youngster on his nicely rounded rump. The horse gave a squeal of what could have been evil intent, or glee, and did the type of fly buck that was more often seen at a rodeo.
Dom watched in silence as Badger followed through by putting his head between his knees and arching his back in an even more impressive one, and his one thought, before the animal charged forward, was that the horse had incredible athletic potential. A loop of rein was dragged through Lottie’s hand, catching the lunge whip on its way, which narrowly missed her head before she fully came to her senses and took a firmer grip, desperately trying to keep her footing in the middle of the circle as the horse tore around at a dizzying pace.
‘Hey up, Dom, what are you doing here?’ Rory arrived just as Dom was trying to decide whether to step in and rescue his only niece before she was accidentally garrotted, or corkscrewed into the ground, or whether he should trust in her ability to slow the horse down. As Tilly the terrier tore into the arena, desperate to join in the fun, dodging hooves and curses, he decided that if he didn’t do something within the next ten seconds man (well woman) or dog was going to die.
But, just as Dominic vaulted over the wall, the horse miraculously slowed to a trot, dropping its head in a show of subservience. Lottie laughed and finally managed to pick up the lunge whip.
‘Wow, did you see that power? He could demolish a cross-country course.’
‘That’s what I bought him for darling.’ Rory sounded satisfied.
‘He nearly demolished you.’ Dom’s tone was dry as he climbed back out of the arena. The master of control, he was never quite sure whether to be in awe of, or despair of, the totally chaotic girl, who somehow carried some of the same genes as him. ‘And I couldn’t see the power the speed he was going.’
‘He’s only a b—’ Lottie was about to say baby, then it hit her. The word that had caused the explosion in the first place. She walked up to the horse, holding it firmly at its head, the other hand patting the strong neck, and stared at Dom. ‘Amanda is, you are, you’re both…’
‘Expecting. Yes.’
‘A baby?’ Just to be sure.
‘Woohoo. Didn’t know you had it in you, Dom. Congratulations!’ Rory gave Dom a manly slap on the back and nearly launched him back over into the arena again. ‘It is yours, I take it?’ Dom arched an eyebrow, stared down his aristocratic nose and refrained from comment.
‘Amanda’s pregnant?’ Lottie wanted to make doubly sure.
‘Isn’t that what I said, Charlotte?’
It was, but she was still trying to get her head around the statement, which was damned tricky considering she saw Dom as: A – too stuffy and pernickety to have a baby (or even sex for that matter) and B – too old. After all he was her uncle.
‘But…’
‘And I need to talk to you about your gran and Tipping House. Charlotte, I do appreciate that you’ve started to take on some of the responsibility, but I’m afraid we really do need to speed the process along.’
‘Speed it along?’ Lottie, who by now had forgotten all about the horse, but got a smart reminder when it gave her hand a sharp nip.
‘It’s your inheritance, and although I know I said I’d carry on helping until you were ready, the ball is now in your court.’ He shrugged, looked apologetic. ‘I’m going to have to support Amanda, which means I need to be in her home, our home, at Folly Lake Manor. And,’ he leaned forward in a way she didn’t like at all, and sighed, ‘unfortunately Mother has been ill, which rather brings things to a head. She needs assurance that you’re in control and she doesn’t need to have any concerns about the estate and everything it entails.’
‘Ill? Gran isn’t ill, she was at the wedding, and –’
‘She hides it very well, but she’s getting too old for all the worry, whatever she says.’ The small frown he couldn’t hide worried Lottie. ‘The doctors say she’s had a small stroke, and the best way to help is for us to take the pressure off.’
‘I will, I will. I can go and help her, visit more, spend time up there, can’t we Rory?’ Lottie had wild, and totally impractical, thoughts about making soup and taking dictation, neither of which she’d ever done in her life, while Rory did manly thing like standing at the fireplace and supplying Elizabeth with perfect G&T’s.
‘It’s not about spending time with her, Charlotte. It’s about money.’
‘But you’ve already told me about the money. I’ve got a plan and we’re seeing the bank manager, and I—’
Dom sighed. ‘What we’ve discussed is just the tip of the iceberg. That estate needs managing, it needs a cash injection—’
‘I know, I’ve thought about how to raise money and—’
He held up a hand to stop her words. ‘A serious amount of money, Charlotte. What we’ve talked about is the substantial sum needed for the essential repairs, that have been left for far too long, but there are also the huge day-to-day running costs as well as actually overseeing it all.’ His tone softened. ‘I’ve tried to break you in gently, but the bank manager had been running out of patience, and we really need to appease him. I think you’re the person that has to do it.’ Dom patted the horse, which had taken advantage of the situation and pulled away from the confused Lottie. ‘You are the next Lady of Tipping House, my darling girl, and we need you to become that Lady now, whether you’re ready or not. Come up and see your grandmother later and we’ll talk.’ He paused and looked at the horse again. ‘Nice-looking animal, needs some discipline, though.’ And he was off, before Lottie had time to ask him about babies, or her gran, or what he meant by a ‘small stroke’.
She looked at Rory. ‘I can’t manage the whole estate, can I?’
‘Of course you can, gorgeous. If that shower of relatives of yours can, then it must be a piece of piss.’
***
‘Stuff and nonsense.’
‘No, it’s not.’ Dominic straightened the painting above the mantelpiece and wondered just how many years attempting to prolong his mother’s life would knock off his own. ‘Doctor’s orders and you know it, Mother.’
He loved his mother, every irascible inch of her, and the idea of her not being around was unthinkable. When Elizabeth died it would change not only his life, but the life of everybody in Tippermere. But handling her retirement would be like handling an uncut colt who knew you were just about to cut off the very part of his anatomy he held most dear. Separating her from her responsibilities would be like castration, if that was not too crude a way of putting it. Although the thought of what she might say if she could read his mind did lighten his mood slightly.
‘And what does that young whipper-snapper know? If I did everything the doctors told me I’d have been pushing up daisies for the past twenty years, just like your father. Gin is good for one. And do stop fiddling, dear.’
Dom stopped and resisted the urge to pour himself a stiff brandy. Tipping House Estate had been his home all his life, and he had at one stage wondered how he would feel when it came to letting go, handing the beautiful estate over to