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She looked up at Mick, but Mick was refereeing an argument between the kids and wasn’t paying attention. Alistair and Justin were talking to Troyden about a holiday in Spain, and Diana was reading the newspaper. Lana was still staring at her mushrooms.

‘It’s black pudding,’ Jed told her.

She winced slightly. ‘I figured.’

‘Have you tried it before?’ he asked. Black pudding was an acquired taste, not one he’d ever mastered, but Troyden and his sibs loved it. It was a staple on the Elmsleigh Sunday morning breakfast menu.

‘Um, no.’ She prodded it again. ‘Also, I’m supposed to be a vegetarian.’

His eyebrows lifted at her statement. Supposed to be? Surely you either were one or you weren’t?

Eden placed a bite of bacon and egg onto a small chunk of black pudding. She popped it into her mouth, chewed, tipped her head to the side, and chewed some more. He guessed being a vegetarian was a fluid concept rather than a life choice.

‘It’s good,’ she told him, going back in for another bite.

Liam rested his elbows on the table and peered around his sister to look at Eden. ‘You know that’s made from blood and hearts and yucky stuff, right?’

His nephew and niece took vicarious, and possibly psychotic pleasure, in trying to scare the adults around them.

Or, at the very least, getting a reaction from them.

Jed waited for Eden to blanch, turn white, and look around for the nearest bathroom, but she simply carried on eating.

‘It tastes pretty good for blood. No wonder vampires like it,’ Eden mused.

It was a perfect response and one that took the wind from their sails. Mick sent her an approving look. ‘So why are you supposed to be a vegetarian?’ she asked, reaching for a slice of toast.

This was one of the rare occasions where Jed was grateful for his sister’s nosiness, as he too wanted to hear her answer.

Eden dabbed the corners of her mouth with her linen napkin and accepted Diana’s offer of a cup of coffee.

‘My mum was a staunch vegan, and so was I until I left for uni. At uni, I rebelled and became a vegetarian. When I graduated, I became a pescatarian. I’ve only recently started eating meat. ’

‘How long ago did your mum pass away?’ Mick asked gently.

Eden looked down at her plate and closed her eyes, those long eyelashes resting on her cheek. ‘She’s not dead. She’s just… gone,’ she quietly replied. What did gone mean? Was she missing? Hiking in India? Suffering from dementia?

‘I take it she was a pushy vegan and didn’t believe you were entitled to make your own food choices?’ Mick pried.

‘Something like that.’

Mick nodded. Man, Mick was good at this shit. He’dsimply thought that Eden’d grown up and discovered new foods, as young people discovered shagging and tequila shots at uni. But Mick went straight to the heart of the matter. No wonder she was the most popular doctor at the village practice.

‘I keep expecting her to pop up and shout at me for eating bacon,’ Eden admitted. She picked up a piece and popped it into her mouth. ‘But I love it. It’s the food of the gods.’

Well, not for some religions, but he got her point, it was delicious.

Jed sipped his coffee, pulling his eyes off Eden to look out of the tall, open French doors leading out onto the terrace.

Below them, a wild meadow rolled down to the pond, half surrounded by a small group of trees.

It was another glorious spring day, and throughout the grounds, he saw new buds on branches, daffodils and crocuses pushing their way up through the soil.

Because Troyden wasn’t a fan of hard landscaping, the house would, come summer, be surrounded by out-of-control wildflowers and the season would start, forcing him to leave his quiet life as a furniture maker to embrace the glitz of being one of the country’s best polo players.

Troyden paid him a shit load to captain his team every year, and he loved the sport. He just hated the attention.

‘Are you going to the Duke’s funeral, Troyden?’ Justin asked. Jed turned his head to see Troyden’s grimace.

‘I know you didn’t like the man, but you’ve been neighbours for forty years,’ Justin pushed.

While Alistair was the family’s money guy, it was Justin who handled Troyden’s PR– the little of it there was.

He was also Troyden’s PA and right hand.

‘Everyone knows you didn’t care for the man, but you don’t need to rub their faces in it. ’

Troyden sighed and looked up at the ornate ceiling, painted with horny-looking cherubs. ‘I suppose I should.’

‘It’s on Wednesday morning at eleven,’ Justin said. He turned to look at Jed, who shook his head.

‘Do not even suggest it,’ he growled.

His sibs didn’t know he was the Duke’s illegitimate son, and he knew they were curious about the origins of his hatred. He felt bad for not telling them, but his mum always insisted on keeping his father’s identity secret.

Jed tapped his finger on the rim of his empty coffee cup. ‘Even if I wanted to go, and I don’t, I’m leaving shortly. I’m doing a training camp for the junior national team. I’ll only be back next Sunday or Monday.’

He looked at Eden, wishing there was a way to get her number, to see her again.

But what was the point? She was city; he was country.

She was allergic to horses, and his life, for at least half the year, revolved around him spending most of the day in the saddle.

He didn’t do anything but one-night stands and brief flings, and while she might be up for that, hot-footing it into London for a hook-up with her seemed…

off. He’d done it before, too often to count, but lately, dinner and clubbing followed by sex wasn’t as much fun as it used to be.

It was also a little exhausting. Was he jaded? Getting old? More than likely.

‘Can’t you go in my place?’ Troyden asked Justin.

Justin often stood in for Troyden and was his official representative.

Justin was calm and polite, urbane and debonair, whereas he, Al and Mick were…

not . Al could only talk about numbers; Mick was busy and impatient and had her hands full being a single mum and a full-time GP.

He wasn’t a guy who could charm and bullshit; he far preferred to spend time in his workshop, in the saddle or stable than exchanging small talk.

Troyden often complained that his stepchildren were socially inept, possibly even savage, and he wasn’t wrong.

‘What time are you leaving, Jed?’ Mick asked, holding out her mug in expectation.

He obliged and then looked at his watch. ‘Shortly. Kit is on his way.’

Mick frowned. ‘Tell him to watch that shoulder, to take it easy.’

‘Have you met Kit?’ he asked, shaking his head. His best friend and teammate had one speed and no one could keep up with him. Even Jed had long since given up trying.

Talking of leaving, he really should get his arse off this chair and head down to his cottage where he’d arranged to meet Kit. He was packed and ready to go, but damn, he was reluctant. Eden was the magnet keeping him stuck to his seat.

He was being ridiculous: women came, and women went. She wasn’t anything special, and when he was away from Elmsleigh, busy with coaching, immersed in polo, he’d soon forget about her.

Troyden drained his coffee and pushed back his chair. His stepdad looked down at Lana and jerked his head. ‘Diana, can you arrange a taxi to take Ms Bertolli back to the city?’

Lana, brown eyes flashing, flung her serviette onto the table and stumbled to her feet. Jed glanced under the table and saw that she was balancing on three-inch, scalpel-blade-sharp heels. Who wore heels on a Sunday morning? ‘Fuck you, Troyden.’

Troyden looked from her to the children and then to Mick. ‘I would ask her to apologise for swearing in front of the children, but I doubt that would happen,’ he calmly stated.

‘That’s alright, Troypops,’ Liam said. ‘Jed said that word when he dropped a piece of wood on his foot last week. But he said it a few times and hopped around for a while.’

Jed scowled at his nephew. ‘Snitch,’ he muttered, as Lana weaved her way to the door. When she was out of earshot, he turned to his stepdad. ‘What happened?’

Troyden shrugged. ‘I found the five hundred pounds I was missing tucked into her bra.’

Jed winced. Where did his stepfather find these creatures? GoldiggersRUs?

‘Can you please do some background checks on the next one before you move her into your life?’ Mick asked, looking a little desperate.

‘What about dating someone a little… older?’ Justin suggested.

‘Yeah, you should date someone really old, like she should be at least thirty,’ Gemma earnestly told her grandfather, her expression serious.

Jed winced, as did Alistair and Justin, who were closer to fifty than his thirty-five. Mick, whose thirty-third birthday was just a few weeks away, frowned at her daughter. ‘This is an adult conversation, Gemma,’ she told her. Her daughter merely rolled her eyes.

Jed looked over at Eden; her expression held a fair amount of incredulity.

She had to think this was a madhouse, and to be fair, it often was.

Though today was a relatively quiet Sunday morning: most of the polo team was often in residence, and the guest rooms were usually filled with Troyden’s friends.

As a result, the sixteen-seater table was crammed and deafening.

Troyden resumed his seat and linked his hands behind his head, turning his attention to Eden.

‘Well, that was embarrassing,’ he deadpanned, shooting her a grin.

‘But not as embarrassing as my mum hassling my friends’ mums to join Lighthouse at every match and every damn parent-teacher meeting,’ Mick retorted with a smile.

‘I forgot about that,’ Troyden murmured. ‘She’s done with them, right?’

‘I think so… But it’s Mum, how can I be sure of anything?’

‘At least you didn’t catch your mum snogging your boyfriend when you were sixteen.’ Al countered.

Jed winced. Ouch.

‘Your mother was the first of my complicated, slightly weird, wives, Alistair,’ Troyden agreed. ‘I’ve been married five times, and this lot have put a moratorium on me marrying again.’

‘Is your mum a little mad or is she normal?’ Mick asked Eden, before taking a huge bite of marmalade toast.

Clearing her throat Eden dropped her eyes to her plate. Her shoulders came up to her ears, the tips of which he noticed flushed pink.

‘Uh… well, um…’

Jed watched her chest rise with each deep intake of air.

‘Well, ten or so years ago, and out of the blue, my mum joined a convent as an aspirant nun. A couple of months ago, she renounced her previous life and everything in it, including me, to enter into a formal marriage with God.’ Eden’s voice turned husky, and Jed knew it hurt more than her breezy attitude suggested.

‘She’s in a cloister now and has taken a vow of silence. I’ll never see her again.’

So her mum was alive, but also, sort of, dead. Holy shit. That was a lot. After a long silence, Mick tossed her serviette on the table, lifted her eyebrows and pulled up a smile. ‘Okay, you win because who can compete with having a nun for a mum?’

The flash of sadness and deep vulnerability in Eden’s eyes made him want to lean across the table and gather her to him, placing his body, his strength, both mental and physical, between her and the world.

He suddenly wanted to see the world through her eyes, dive into all that blue, and swim through her psyche.

She was mysterious and intriguing, a vortex he couldn’t fight.

Jed shook his head, disconcerted by his off-the-rails imagination.

Where the hell did all that come from? She was a woman, one of many he randomly encountered, nothing special.

Get a grip, for God’s sake! He didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, so what was he thinking?

Swimming through her psyche, a vortex he couldn’t fight? He was losing his mind…

His thoughts were ridiculous and unproductive, illogical and idiotic. The reality was simple: he was leaving shortly to do what he did best, and that was to play and coach polo. She would leave the estate, return to London and he’d never see her again.

Every muscle in his body tightened and his head spun at the thought. That felt wrong. Like he was in the wrong saddle or trying to sand a piece of wood against the grain.

His watch beeped and he grimaced at the message on the screen.

Waiting. Where u?

Right, time to get his head in the game, to get back to normal. For the next six months, his time would be taken up with polo, coaching, practising and playing. He’d look at some ponies Troyden might consider adding to his string. He’d try not to think about the FD’s death.

He pushed back his chair and stood up. It was time to walk away and get on with his life. Eden was a blip on his radar, one of the first women in a long time who’d captured his interest, but they were just two random people who’d collided. He’d never see her again.

He met her eyes. ‘Good to meet you, Eden,’ he said, hoping none of his family heard the slight hitch in his voice. He needed to get his shit together. He briefly gripped Troyden’s shoulder, dropped a kiss on Mick’s head and ruffled Liam and Gemma’s hair.

‘Be good, okay?’ he said, giving them his version of the stink eye. It didn’t impress them much, not that he expected it to.

Without looking at Eden again, and ignoring the disappointment sliding through him, he walked out of the dining room and back into real life.