Summer at the Scottish Castle

Contents Title Page Copyright Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Epilogue AcknowledgementsTurn the page…Chapter OneRachel BowdlerAbout Embla Books First published in Great Britain in 2023 by Bonnier Books UK Limited 4th Floor, Victoria House, Bloomsbury Square, London, WC1B 4DA Owned by Bonnier Books Sveavägen 56, Stockholm, SwedenCopyright © Rachel Bowdler, 2023 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. The right of Rachel Bowdler to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN: 9781471413964 This book is typeset using Atomik ePublisher Embla Books is an imprint of Bonnier Books UK www.bonnierbooks.co.uk For Ivy, moji lásku Chapter One The hydrangea shrubs were Jessamine’s best hiding place yet, even if she did have to contend with a leafy branch tickling the inside of her nostril. She batted it away, pinching the bridge of her hay fever-ravished nose to trap a sneeze, and huddled further into the leaves. Lilac petals fell at her feet and droplets of last night’s rain dampened her dress. The clicking of Petra’s tall heels across the garden path grew louder. Through teary eyes and a gap in the shrub, Jessamine caught a glimpse of her personal assistant’s sharp, impatient features as she approached. Jessamine held her breath when Petra neared – and released it in relief when she sauntered straight past the hydrangeas, her pointy nose jabbing the air with a hauteur that seemed permanent, innate, on her narrow features. A moment later, Petra disappeared around the corner and circled back towards the castle, where Jessamine should have been, too. Though it was childish to hide, she simply didn’t have the energy for her assistant-slash-chaperone today. They’d been travelling up and down the country for weeks, attending business meetings and charity events and dinner parties to save face after Jessamine’s rather public divorce, and she was wiped out. Then, the article had been released by gossip magazine, Splendour. She’d been expecting it, but nothing had quite prepared her for the sight of her distraught features plastered all over the internet. And if the immortalised ‘meltdown’ – as labelled by journalist Emily Kingsley – wasn’t terrible enough, Robert had accused ‘the ice queen’ of cheating on him throughout their relationship, claiming she wouldn’t have children with him because she was cold-hearted and unable to love anyone but herself. All lies, of course. Robert was the one always away on business trips, coming home smelling of other women’s perfume. When she’d pulled him up on it, she was labelled jealous, paranoid, ridiculous. All she’d asked of him afterwards was that he sign the divorce papers, because God forbid she spend another day married to him. Naturally, though, he hadn’t been able to leave peacefully, and she’d become the talk of the town: Poor Robert, having to put up with her. I bet she was an utter nightmare. I never quite took to her anyway. There was something off all along. He could do much better than a loopy, cheating so-and-so. Has she no shame? Mother had thought it an apt time for her to get away from London, and Jessamine had rather quickly agreed. Their ancestral castle, Rosemire – left to Jessamine in her father’s will, because apparently Mother had no interest in adding an ‘old-fashioned tourist trap in the middle of nowhere’ to her hefty collection of inherited properties – was as good a place to hide as any, especially since it had been left forgotten for years. Until it blows over, Mother had said. But accusations of being a promiscuous, conceited, hysterical, manipulative shrew were unlikely to blow over anytime soon. Certainly not for a peeress with a reputation to uphold. Mother wasn’t talking to her at all, and besides politely telling her to naff off, hadn’t bothered with Jessamine since the dinner party at the Chelten Estate weeks prior, where it had all gone wrong. Where Jessamine had finally exploded after months of coaxing Robert into signing the divorce papers and listening to his veiled insults about how she should be crawling on her knees, begging for both forgiveness and another chance. It had been their first reunion since the divorce, and no doubt not their last, since they were bound to the same social circles. Jessamine had been civil, focusing her attention on her own group of ‘friends’ – people who mysteriously stopped talking to her not long afterwards – and doing her best to look as though she was having fun. Robert hadn’t liked that. Just to ensure she didn’t come out of the other side looking too happy about their separation, he’d accused her of flirting with one of the servers in front of all of their friends. No mention, of course, of his own myriad affairs throughout their unhappy marriage. Jessamine hadn’t been able to stop her rage that time. Not after four years of living with his muttered remarks about the way she dressed; how she was embarrassing him by talking too much or not enough. Four years of looking the other way when he flirted with any woman with a pulse. So, she’d thrown her glass of champagne all over him, and then his friend’s glass just for good measure. And, all right, she’d gone off on a bit of a