her across the lawn.
Kinky gave a belated bark.
Lexy shaded her eyes and looked up in alarm, her mind swiftly formulating explanations as to why she should be sitting on Elizabeth Cassall’s back doorstep, eating cold baked beans and
drinking tea.
She assessed her interrogator. Mid-twenties, straight nose, high arched brow, light brown eyes. A Norman countenance, bit like one of those knights from the Bayeux Tapestry. His brown hair was
cut short, and a little ruffled, as if he had just removed a chain mail helmet.
He took a brief, almost furtive glance back up the footpath from where he had just come, then fixed his autocratic gaze back on her.
“I could ask you the same question.” Might as well meet fire with fire.
“I’m Tyman Gallimore, Pilgrim’s Farm.” As if she should have known.
Gallimore. Must be one of the lusty sons Edward and Peter were discussing the day before.
“Lexy Lomax. I’m a friend of the Patersons.”
“Oh. Right.” She could see him struggling to think who the hell the Patersons were.
“Perhaps you haven’t met yet?”
“No... I don’t think...”
“The new owners.” Lexy jerked her head back at the cottage.
She really had him on the back foot now. In fact, he looked like she’d just slung a sandbag in his gut.
“W... what? You... you mean it’s been sold already?”
“Not sold. Elizabeth Cassall bequeathed it.”
“What?”
“You know. Left it to someone in her will.”
Uninvited, Tyman Gallimore sank down on to the path opposite the step. He eyed her, heaving a sigh. “Yes. I know what bequeathed means.”
“Problem?” Lexy enquired.
“You could say that.” He shot another quick glance up the path. “We just assumed it would go straight on the market.”
“We?”
“My dad, my brother and me.”
“You want to buy it?”
“We were planning to, yes. Do you know what these... Patersons... intend to do with it?”
Lexy shook her head. “Bit early to say.”
“Who are they, anyway? Not relatives of Elizabeth?” He was crushing one fisted hand tightly into the palm of the other, nails digging hard into the flesh. What was his problem?
“There’s some kind of family link.” She chose her words with care. “It’s a father and two daughters. Elizabeth left the place to the younger daughter.”
He looked perplexed, as well he might. “And you say they’re friends of yours?”
“Yes. I kind of... help them out. That’s what I’m doing here now, actually. Checking over a couple of things while they sort out the paperwork in Clopwolde.” Although
they don’t know it.
“That your dog?”
Lexy considered Kinky, who had been sitting at her side throughout the whole exchange. “What, him? Nah. He was just hanging around the place.”
Tyman rolled his eyes. “It’s only that I would have had you down as more of, I dunno, a lurcher owner. You know, something with a bit of street cred.”
Was that a compliment? “So a chihuahua isn’t cool?”
“Well... no. Has he been in an accident?”
“Fight.”
“He fights?”
“Let’s just say he has a tendency towards risky situations.” At least he used to have.
The light brown eyes looked politely sceptical. “We’ve got a German Shepherd.” As though theirs was a proper dog.
“Better not bring it up here when Kinky’s around. Mincemeat.”
Tyman laughed then, a little too long and loudly. He was very nervous about something.
“Glad the weather’s picked up,” Lexy said, to fill the sudden lull.
He nodded. “You should have seen it over here last night. It was crazy.”
“I know. I was here.”
He sat bolt upright. “You mean you were here last night? Actually here in the cottage?”
“Uh... yeah. Is that bad?”
He rubbed his forehead, eyes distracted. “Course not. I was just a bit surprised. I mean, it’s so isolated up here, you know. For a girl on her...” He clocked Lexy’s
expression and moved on. “So, are you off back home today? Have you done
Kinky gave a belated bark.
Lexy shaded her eyes and looked up in alarm, her mind swiftly formulating explanations as to why she should be sitting on Elizabeth Cassall’s back doorstep, eating cold baked beans and
drinking tea.
She assessed her interrogator. Mid-twenties, straight nose, high arched brow, light brown eyes. A Norman countenance, bit like one of those knights from the Bayeux Tapestry. His brown hair was
cut short, and a little ruffled, as if he had just removed a chain mail helmet.
He took a brief, almost furtive glance back up the footpath from where he had just come, then fixed his autocratic gaze back on her.
“I could ask you the same question.” Might as well meet fire with fire.
“I’m Tyman Gallimore, Pilgrim’s Farm.” As if she should have known.
Gallimore. Must be one of the lusty sons Edward and Peter were discussing the day before.
“Lexy Lomax. I’m a friend of the Patersons.”
“Oh. Right.” She could see him struggling to think who the hell the Patersons were.
“Perhaps you haven’t met yet?”
“No... I don’t think...”
“The new owners.” Lexy jerked her head back at the cottage.
She really had him on the back foot now. In fact, he looked like she’d just slung a sandbag in his gut.
“W... what? You... you mean it’s been sold already?”
“Not sold. Elizabeth Cassall bequeathed it.”
“What?”
“You know. Left it to someone in her will.”
Uninvited, Tyman Gallimore sank down on to the path opposite the step. He eyed her, heaving a sigh. “Yes. I know what bequeathed means.”
“Problem?” Lexy enquired.
“You could say that.” He shot another quick glance up the path. “We just assumed it would go straight on the market.”
“We?”
“My dad, my brother and me.”
“You want to buy it?”
“We were planning to, yes. Do you know what these... Patersons... intend to do with it?”
Lexy shook her head. “Bit early to say.”
“Who are they, anyway? Not relatives of Elizabeth?” He was crushing one fisted hand tightly into the palm of the other, nails digging hard into the flesh. What was his problem?
“There’s some kind of family link.” She chose her words with care. “It’s a father and two daughters. Elizabeth left the place to the younger daughter.”
He looked perplexed, as well he might. “And you say they’re friends of yours?”
“Yes. I kind of... help them out. That’s what I’m doing here now, actually. Checking over a couple of things while they sort out the paperwork in Clopwolde.” Although
they don’t know it.
“That your dog?”
Lexy considered Kinky, who had been sitting at her side throughout the whole exchange. “What, him? Nah. He was just hanging around the place.”
Tyman rolled his eyes. “It’s only that I would have had you down as more of, I dunno, a lurcher owner. You know, something with a bit of street cred.”
Was that a compliment? “So a chihuahua isn’t cool?”
“Well... no. Has he been in an accident?”
“Fight.”
“He fights?”
“Let’s just say he has a tendency towards risky situations.” At least he used to have.
The light brown eyes looked politely sceptical. “We’ve got a German Shepherd.” As though theirs was a proper dog.
“Better not bring it up here when Kinky’s around. Mincemeat.”
Tyman laughed then, a little too long and loudly. He was very nervous about something.
“Glad the weather’s picked up,” Lexy said, to fill the sudden lull.
He nodded. “You should have seen it over here last night. It was crazy.”
“I know. I was here.”
He sat bolt upright. “You mean you were here last night? Actually here in the cottage?”
“Uh... yeah. Is that bad?”
He rubbed his forehead, eyes distracted. “Course not. I was just a bit surprised. I mean, it’s so isolated up here, you know. For a girl on her...” He clocked Lexy’s
expression and moved on. “So, are you off back home today? Have you done
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