Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Praise for A Season for Second Chances
- Also by Jenny Bayliss
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Discussion Guide
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Nory groaned. She didn’t really want to go back to the castle wearing a ripped cocktail dress infused with eau de heifer. No doubt they’d all still be drinking and reminiscing, and if they saw her now, she would be the butt of their jokes for the rest of the stay and all reunions thereafter. The expression mud sticks would in this case be both idiom and literal.
“No thank you, I’m going to the folly.”
“The folly is closed for maintenance.”
“Oh.” Dammit! “Is there another option? Couldn’t I maybe hide in a barn for a while, just until my friends have all gone to bed? Snuggle up with a nice warm sheep maybe? I’m already covered in crap, so I don’t think things can get much worse on the dress front, really.”
“Didn’t you only just arrive this afternoon?”
“So?”
“So, isn’t it a bit soon to have already pissed off your housemates?”
“I haven’t pissed anyone off! I’m just . . . Oh, don’t bother!” She harrumphed, yanked off his coat, and shoved it at him. She began to hobble away on frozen feet, the cold biting deeper into her skin after the respite of a warm coat.
Isaac came after her. “What are you doing? Don’t be stupid. Put the coat back on.”
“Wow, I’m stupid too?” she stuttered through chattering teeth.
“I’m sorry, okay? Now put the coat on. Please. I can’t afford to have a guest get frostbite on my watch.”
Nory realized she must look pretty pathetic because she saw his concerned expression. He held the coat out and she shrugged back into it, muttering a thank-you.
“Look, if you really don’t want to go back to the castle right now, I could maybe rustle you up some clean clothes. You can warm up by the fire in my cottage,” he said. “I’m not a weirdo, I promise. And then I’ll drive you back round later; you can sneak in through the servants’ quarters.”
She looked up and found him smiling at her. Suddenly she was sixteen again, the kid sister, bumping into her brother’s mate on the stairs as he made to leave the house, his rare smile making her flush.
“That is the best offer I’ve had all night!” she said, and she meant it.
Eight
The gardener’s cottage was reached via a wooden door set into the wall at the farthest point of the Winter Garden, flanked by two long Victorian glass cold frames. To the casual observer, the door looked as though it would lead to a potting shed or something equally banal. But the reality was quite different.