She laughed, and Alice nodded because it was what was expected. But really, she didn’t know, and she now knew more about pregnancy and motherhood than she cared to. Ugh. She was a career girl through and through, and babies weren’t on her agenda for the foreseeable future, maybe never. If a maternal streak suddenly appeared, perhaps she’d reconsider. But at thirty, she doubted it would now. Not to mention the fact that she was missing a vital ingredient required for baby-making in the first place—a man.

As if by magic, a man appeared. Jeremy stepped from the gloomy hallway to their left and smiled at them. “Hello, ladies. Glad to see you here, Alice. I’m looking forward to working with you. I’m sure you’re going to be a valuable asset, more than capable of running the place when Erin here embraces motherhood.”

“Th-thank you, Mr Davenport. I can’t wait to get stuck in. I’m going to be like a sponge for the next couple of weeks, soaking up all the information Erin gives me.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Alice’s face grew hot. What a stupid thing to say; she sounded like a child! It was just as well she’d signed the contract they’d biked over to her the previous week—at least they couldn’t sack her for saying something daft. Why on earth did the man have such an effect on her? His proximity meant she could smell his no doubt very expensive aftershave, and fuck, was it intoxicating. It certainly didn’t help her state of mind.

The second time Alice arrived at Davenport Manor, she wasn’t nervous. She was stunned, almost into numbness. After the absolute shocker of an interview where she’d come across as a bumbling buffoon, she’d been convinced she was out of the running for the role. After all, who would employ someone to do such a pressurised, important job if they couldn’t handle a simple interview?

And yet, they’d taken her on. She was so surprised she’d actually thought she was asleep and dreaming the whole thing when she received the phone call. But after a pinch hard enough to make her yelp and leave a bruise, she came to her senses. And rejoiced. She’d done it. Alice was temporary property manager of Davenport Manor. She’d be working alongside Erin for a couple of weeks, but then the place was hers. Sort of. As far as she was concerned, baby Clarke couldn’t arrive soon enough.

Alice walked through the front entrance, beaming as she realised it would be the last time she did that. After today, she’d arrive earlier—today she’d been required to turn up at ten, as the doors opened to the public, giving Erin time to brief the staff beforehand—and use the side door that all the other staff members and volunteers did.

Thankfully, Erin was waiting inside the entrance hall for her. She’d doubted she’d be able to find Davenport’s office again, but she didn’t want to come across as stupid by having to ask, so Erin’s presence was a lifesaver.

The older woman smiled as she caught sight of her, and waddled forward with her hand stuck out. “Hi, Alice.” They shook hands, then parted.

“Morning, Erin. How you doing?” She nodded at the other woman’s belly.

“Oh, you know,” Erin replied, spreading her hands across the stretched expanse of skin and stroking it through her loose dress, “Okay. Not brilliant. Ready to have him or her out, so I can feel like myself again. But then I guess that won’t happen for a while either, because I’ll be suffering sleepless nights, sore and leaky nipples… you know the drill.”

Alice’s cheeks flamed. “Oh—oh! I didn’t mean… that is, I’m not implying—”

Davenport held up a hand. “I know what you meant, Miss Brown. Your enthusiasm for this role is unquestionable. But Erin and I have some questions, if that’s quite all right with you?”

She nodded again, and before she had chance to think up a suitable response, a knock came at the door. Their refreshments had arrived. By the time the member of staff had passed the drinks out to the three of them, then carried her tray back out of the room, Alice’s heart was in her shoes. She’d fucked this up, royally. First she’d raved like a lunatic, then she’d made a stupid comment about aristocratic families going broke. Talk about insulting the boss. Potential boss. Well, ex-potential boss.

Erin hadn’t said a word beyond her greeting, and yet Alice was convinced that the older woman also thought she was a lost cause. She was so screwed, it was all she could do not to put her head in her hands and rock back and forth like the crazy person her interviewers clearly thought she was. It was the job opportunity of a lifetime, and she’d blown her chance.

It didn’t matter what her answers were to any of the questions. Pigs would fly before they gave her the damn job.

What a prize idiot she was.

Alice nodded frantically. “Yes, no—no, you’re not mistaken. My parents always called me a history buff. When I was younger, I liked things and places with a history, and as I got older it grew into a particular passion for old houses and their grounds. Now all I want to do is take an historical property, make it shine—figuratively, of course—and get as many members of the public in as possible and show it off. People need to see these places, or they’re missing out on a vital part of British history.”

She looked, wide-eyed, at Davenport to watch his reaction to her outburst. She couldn’t help it—she genuinely was being interviewed for the job of a lifetime that could make her career, and she needed Davenport to know how badly she wanted it, and how determined she was to succeed. She thought she saw a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, then he covered his mouth with his hand for a moment and cleared his throat.

“Yes, Miss Brown,” he said, assessing her with a sober expression, “it’s obvious how much you want this role, but you have to remember that this property isn’t just history. I still live here, and I’m in the present.”

The response was on the tip of her tongue. “And that’s what makes this place so fascinating! Its history goes back hundreds of years, and by now things have often gone wrong—families dying out or losing all their money, and the properties end up going derelict, being made into private hotels, or get taken over by The National Trust. But you’re still here. Davenport Manor has a past, a present, and a future, and they’re all connected.”

“Quite,” Davenport said, dryly. There was no sign of a smirk on his face this time. “But I haven’t lost the family money yet.”