Playboy Under the Mistletoe. Joanna Neil

      Chapter Three

      ‘THIS is it,’ Ben announced after a while, turning the car into a snow-filled drive. ‘My house—I usually think of it as my summer place, since I mostly use it for holiday breaks or those times when I need to get away from it all…but the title doesn’t exactly fit at the moment. Still, I hope you’ll like it.’ He cut the engine and turned to face Jasmine. ‘Let’s get you inside and into the warm.’

      ‘Your summer place—does that mean you’re not renting short term, that this is actually your own house?’ She was puzzled. ‘After all, you must have a house in Cheshire as well, if that’s where you’ve been living for the last few years.’

      ‘That’s right. I bought this as a run-down property some time ago and spent a year or so doing it up.’

      ‘So renovating properties is one of those interests that you kept up? Working on Mill House back in Woodsley Bridge was just a start?’

      ‘That’s true. I’ve always been enthusiastic about restoring houses…ones that particularly interest me, that is.’

      She frowned. ‘I wasn’t sure whether your father would have put you off. He didn’t go along with any of it, did he?’

      He made a wry face. ‘Unfortunately, my father and I don’t see eye to eye on a number of matters. With Mill House he was convinced I was wasting my time…and money…and he did everything he could to put me off starting the work. Even though it was a successful restoration in the end, he maintained it was money that could have been spent on more solid investments.’

      She nodded. ‘He couldn’t understand why you went to all that effort, could he?’

      ‘No. But, then, sentiment never came into his calculations.’

      Jasmine understood Ben’s difficulty. Stuart Radcliffe never had time for such creative projects. He was an old-fashioned man, putting his faith in good bookkeeping and heavily involved with upper-crust institutions. Ben’s ideas were very different, stemming from the heart, and Stuart could not go along with that. To him they were risky, pointless ventures, whereas he was all about safety and security.

      Ben held open the door for her and she slid out of the car, looking around at the broad sweep of the drive and the sprawling white-painted house. It was set in open countryside, and as the moon cast its light over the snow-laden fields, she caught a glimpse of hills and dales and gently forested slopes all around.

      She looked closely at the house. She could see why Ben would want to work on this lovely old property. Clearly, it had stood the test of time, and now, with a fresh coat of paint and what she guessed were renovated windows and roofing, this was a splendid example of what could be achieved.

      ‘Of course, you’re not seeing it at its best in this weather,’ he commented as he went to retrieve her case from the boot. ‘If you were to come here in the summer you would see it in its full glory.’

      ‘I think it’s lovely.’ She dragged her gaze back from the scenery to the front of the house. A lantern glowed in the wide porch, welcoming them with its golden light, and to either side there were hanging baskets, filled to the brim with winter flowers. There were pansies, big, bright blooms of deep violet, azure blue, burgundy and stunning orange. Mixed in with those were purpleleaved sage and long stems of trailing ivy. It was a glorious explosion of colour that said no matter that it was winter, plant life was exuberant and thriving.

      He put his key in the lock and opened the front door, ushering her inside and placing her case on the floor by a decorative plant stand. Ferns filled the shelves, their vibrant green a charming contrast to the mellow wood. The hallway was large and inviting, with a deep-piled carpet and walls that were covered with delicately textured paper that was pleasing on the eye. To one side there was a Georgian satinwood table, beautifully inlaid and elegant with delicately curved legs. A bowl of vivid red cyclamen provided a splash of rich colour that was reflected in a large, gilt-framed mirror that hung on the wall.

      ‘I’ll show you to the living room,’ Ben said. ‘I’ve laid a fire in the hearth, so once I light it the place will be much more welcoming. The central heating’s on, so we’ll be warm enough.’

      ‘I’m toasty already,’ she said. ‘The heat enveloped me as soon as I walked through the door.’ She was still looking around, trying to take everything in. ‘This house must be…what…seventeenth century?’ There were exposed oak beams all around, and an oak staircase led to a mezzanine floor that could be seen from the hallway. Even from where she was standing, she could see through the wooden rails of the elevated balustrade that the upper level had been tastefully furnished with comfortable chairs and an antique desk. All around, the lighting was subdued but warm, throwing out soft pools of light here and there.

      He nodded. ‘It is…late seventeenth.’ He showed her into the living room, where the centrepiece was a huge fireplace, made of beautifully polished wood topped with an intricately carved cornice. ‘I tried to restore it carefully, keeping the original features intact wherever possible.’ He bent to light the log fire and stood back after a minute or two, waiting as the flames took hold. The logs began to crackle and throw up orange and gold sparks, sending a pool of light into the room. ‘That should soon make things more cheerful,’ he said.

      ‘This is so wonderful,’ she told him, looking around in awe. There was a richly upholstered sofa close by the hearth, along with matching armchairs, and it was easy to see that Ben’s flawless taste in furnishings was innate and impeccable. There was an elegant bookcase to one side of the room, complemented by a glazed Georgian display cabinet and a small occasional table.

      ‘It’s such a treat to see a place like this,’ she said, full of admiration for what he had achieved. ‘You must have worked so hard to make it look this good.’

      ‘It took a fair bit of time and effort,’ he agreed, smiling. ‘Let me take your jacket and then you should make yourself comfortable on the sofa while I start supper. I’ll show you around after we’ve eaten, if you like.’

      ‘I would love that, thanks…but perhaps I could help with the food? There must be some way I can make myself useful.’