Page 62 of Mistletoe Mistake
There were perks to living in a hotel, I had to admit. “This looks great,” I assured him. “What time is it?”
“Nearly eight o'clock.”
He really must have worn me out the night before. I hadn't meant to sleep so late. “Okay, that should give me enough time. The car's coming for us at half nine.”
“Car?” he repeated, looking almost disappointed as his smile faded. “Are we going somewhere? I’d been hoping to have more time to play with some of our new toys this morning.”
A shiver ran through me at his tone, combined with the memory of some of the things we had picked up in the shop the night before, but I wasn't going to let him distract me. “There will be time for that later, I promise, but first, I want to take you to a house out of town.”
Cole sighed, but before I could remind him that he still had to keep up his end of the deal, he acquiesced. “What's special about this house?”
“This is one of my favourite houses in the world," I told him, taking a warm, satisfying sip of my tea. "It's the reason I decided to become an architect.”
That got Cole's attention. “Alright, Gemma, I'm intrigued. Where is it? Would I have been to it before?”
“It's possible, but I wouldn't be surprised if you haven't. It's an old stately home outside the city called Wilby Park.”
No trace of recognition registered in his eyes. “I don't think I've heard of it. What makes it your favourite?”
“I'll explain when we're there,” I promised. “They're open to the public today as part of their annual Christmas opening.”
“I should have guessed it was Christmas-related.” He sighed again, but I could see the teasing light in his eyes. “Eat up, then. We better get ready.”
Two hours later, we were settled in the back seat of the hired car while the driver headed out of London. We talked about different architectural styles and development in London as the car led us through different neighbourhoods, and once the city had fallen away and we were out in the countryside, we talked more about Cole's business and his expansion plans in Europe. So far, Stamer Hotels had mainly focused on city centre locations in Europe, but he was considering opening some countryside resort-style retreats. He had a lot of ideas for the kind of places he wanted to create and I loved listening to the passion that he had for his properties.
By the time we pulled into the grounds of Wilby Park, the time was nearing noon and, as always, the first view of the property across the parkland took my breath away. With its perfect symmetry, the towers, cupolas, and the many, many windows, it almost looked like something from a fairy tale.
“Wow.” Cole leaned forward in his seat, his face close to the window. I had rarely seen him so openly interested in anything. “That's impressive. Elizabethan?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. "I'm impressed that you knew that.“
He turned back to me, smirking in his confident, sexy way. "I'm not just a pretty face, Gemma."
I couldn't help myself; the opening was just too good. "I never said your face was your best feature."
Cole nearly choked on his surprised laughter, making the driver glance back at us with concern. "You're going to pay for that later," he whispered in my ear, his mouth still twitching with amusement.
I certainly hoped so, but for the time being, I tried to direct his attention back to the property. "The house originally dates from the 1570s. It's still privately owned by the same family that built it.”
“I'm surprised it's not better known," he mused, looking back out the window. "Americans would eat this up."
I had an explanation for that. “The family likes their privacy. It's only opened for three weeks in the summer and three weeks at Christmas each year so they can claim tax exemptions as a tourist attraction.”
The car pulled up along the gravel drive to the front of the house where a good number of other visitors, mostly with grey hair, were milling about. The property wasn't a particularly family-friendly destination, not bothering with the child-oriented activities that a lot of the other big houses brought out at Christmas time.
“We can grab something to eat first if you like.” I pointed Cole in the direction of the stables once we were out of the car, and we made our way to the cozy café where we both got a bowl of home-made soup and fresh bread. Refreshed and energized, we bought our tickets and made our way inside the house.
The entrance hall was fairly typical for the period with stone walls and stone floors, decorated with weapons on the walls and a large fireplace, and in a nod to the season, a large Christmas tree had been set up in one corner with home-made ornaments. Cole looked around with interest as I pointed out some of the key architectural elements as well as a few of my favourite decorative flourishes. An older couple also stopped to listen to me for a while, asking their own questions, which amused Cole.
“Do you moonlight as a tour guide here?” he teased me. “If not, maybe you should.”
“I used to,” I admitted. “On my summer holidays when I was in school.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You weren't kidding that this place is important to you.”
“I wasn't lying. I really love it."
“Why? I mean, why this one out of all the houses in the world?”
