Henry took a mouthful of rum, while he considered how to answer that question. He did. He knew himself well enough, and there was genuinely very little about Lily Atwell not to like. She was kind, generous, and her laughter could light up Manhattan, and had even – for a brief moment – lit up the Hawkesbury estate. Before he’d ruined it all.

‘Yes. I do. Not that it matters.’

Ben exhaled through pursed lips. ‘Of course it matters.’

‘Ben, in two months’ time, I’ll have sold the estate and moved back to New York, be knee-deep in the latest investment and Lily Atwell will still be here, working in her restaurant and hating my guts.’

‘Or not. It’s really up to you.’

‘The decision was made years ago. I was never supposed to come back. I shouldn’t even be here now.’

‘Yet here you are.’

Henry nodded. Yet here I am.

The clock chimed twice.

‘Right. That’s my cue. I think I’m suitably sloshed enough to be devastatingly hungover tomorrow thereby requiring me to sleep the entire way to France. My wife thanks you,’ Ben said, saluting at Henry with a smile.

‘What time are you leaving?’

‘Eight. Don’t worry. We don’t need an alarm. Mina’s up before 6.30 like clockwork. Something to do with babies pressing on bladders.’

‘Too much info.’

‘Just you wait. One day it’ll be your turn.’

‘Doubt it,’ Henry called after Ben’s retreating form, to the answer of, ‘yeah, yeah, whatever.’

And if pressed, he’d have lied on the Bible, and sworn that he didn’t suddenly see an image of Lily Atwell, pregnant and beautiful with it, flashing through his mind.

CHAPTER SIX

OVER THE NEXT FEW days, Henry found himself returning to Lily’s herb garden, because that’s how he thought of it now – Lily’s – working away at the weeds. There was something peaceful about it. He might have left the estate ten years before, but the skills that his father had taught him as a child – to tend to the land and care for its produce – had never left.

He’d heard back from the estate agent who had assured him of the Jamesons’ interest and had told him they were putting together a very competitive offer. Competitive to what, Henry couldn’t guess, because there had been no other interest in the estate from what he could tell.