Second Chance With Lord Branscombe. Joanna Neil

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘IT’S BEAUTIFUL OUT HERE, isn’t it?’ Jake smiled as he looked out over the sea and watched the waves rolling on to the shore. ‘I never get tired of looking at that glorious view. I’m just glad I get the chance to come and sit here after work sometimes.’

      ‘Me too.’ Sophie returned the smile and then concentrated on carefully spooning golden sugar crystals into her coffee. It gave her a bit of time to think. She ought to be content, no doubt about it, but she couldn’t get rid of this nagging feeling that before too long everything in her world was going to be turned upside down.

      On the surface everything was running smoothly. What could be better than to be here on a late Friday afternoon, taking in the fresh sea air with Jake, on the terrace of this restaurant in the delightful little fishing village they called home? On the North Devon coast, a small inlet in a wide bay, it was an idyllic place to live.

      A faint warm breeze was blowing in off the blue water, riffling gently through her long honey-blonde curls and lightly fanning her cheeks. From here she could see the rocky crags that enclosed the peaceful cove and she could hear the happy shouts of children playing on the beach below, dipping their nets into rock pools that had been left behind by the outgoing tide. She had every reason to be happy.

      The truth was, though, that she’d been on edge this last couple of weeks...and there could be only one reason for that. Ever since Nate Branscombe had returned to the Manor House her emotions had been on a roller-coaster ride. Maybe she should have expected him to come back once he’d heard about his father’s health taking a downward turn. Deep down, she’d known all along he would have to visit his father, Lord Branscombe, sooner or later, but when she’d heard he’d actually turned up she’d been swamped by a feeling akin to panic. She’d gone out of her way since then to avoid running into him.

      ‘This is the perfect place to relax,’ Jake said, oblivious to her subdued mood. He sipped his coffee and then glanced at his watch. ‘I can’t stay for too much longer, though...much as I’d like to—I have a meeting to go to.’

      ‘Ah—the joys of working in hospital management!’ She glanced at him, her mouth crinkling at the corners. It was what he was born to do, streamlining what went on in various departments of the local hospital.

      Jake Holdsworth was a clever, likeable young man, good-looking, with neat dark hair and compassionate brown eyes. He was a couple of years older than her at twenty-eight, but they’d known each other for several years since he used to regularly come to the village to visit a favourite aunt. They’d become firm friends. Eventually, though, they’d gone their separate ways when they each left home to take up places at university—she went to Medical School and Jake went off to study Hospital and Health Services Management. It was one of her proudest moments when she was at last able to call herself Dr Trent.

      ‘Oh, yes! Budget meetings, purchasing committees, dealing with the complaints of clinicians! It’s all go!’

      ‘But you love it.’ Their lives had been busy, as each of them worked towards building their careers, and it was only lately they’d met up again. Jake had a keen sense of humour and she liked spending time with him. He always managed to put her at ease, to help her set aside her troubled family situation for a while, to make her forget that life could be a struggle sometimes. He was a restful kind of man and she enjoyed talking to him.

      He was nothing at all like Nate Branscombe—the very opposite, in fact. She frowned. Somehow, Nate had the knack of stirring up strong passions in her—for good or bad—but, either way, they were feelings she would far sooner forget. More often than not, he left her in turmoil.

      Nate had the kind of bone-melting good looks that sent her heart into overdrive the moment she saw him. Women couldn’t get enough of him but, as far as he was concerned, it was all easy come, easy go. His girlfriends each thought they would be the one to change him, but she could have told them they were wasting their time. He would never make that final commitment.

      Maybe that was why Sophie had always held back from him. He wanted her, there had been no doubt about it, and she’d been so...so...tempted, but she wasn’t going to fall for him, like all the others, and end up being hurt. Nate liked women, enjoyed being with them, having fun, getting the most out of life, but she wondered if he’d ever meet the woman who was right for him. Or maybe Nate was aware that the women he’d dated simply didn’t make the grade to be the wife of a future lord.

      ‘Are you okay? You’re a bit quiet today.’ Jake studied her thoughtfully. ‘Have you had a tough day at the hospital?’

      ‘Oh—I’m sorry. I was miles away.’ Jerked out of her reverie, Sophie made an effort to pull herself together. ‘No, it was fine.’

      ‘Is it some problem closer to home, then? Are you worried about your family?’ Jake gave her a wry, coaxing smile before finishing off his coffee and resting his hands on the table, his fingers loosely clasped.

      She shrugged her shoulders. ‘The usual, I suppose. According to my brother, Rob, my mother’s acting weird again, and Jessica’s a bit upset because Ryan has to go away to work.’

      He gave a sympathetic nod. ‘It’s not the best timing, is it? How far advanced is her pregnancy?’ He hazarded a guess. ‘Third trimester?’

      She nodded, smiling. ‘Thirty-seven weeks or thereabouts. The baby could decide to put in an appearance any time now.’

      His mouth made a flat line. ‘Not a great time for her to be on her own, then?’

      ‘No.’ Sophie frowned. ‘Mum and my stepdad are fairly close by for her, though.’

      She glanced around as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. ‘Your table’s over here, sir,’ the waitress was saying, showing Lord Branscombe to a table set in a quiet corner by the wrought-iron balustrade. As he followed her, Lord Branscombe was walking slowly, each step measured and cautious. He straightened, looking towards the table. A bright spray of scarlet surfinia spilled over from a tall cream-coloured planter nearby and beyond the rail there was a mass of green shrubbery, providing a modicum of privacy from some of the other diners.

      James Branscombe acknowledged the waitress briefly, but came to a halt halfway across the terrace. He seemed to be struggling for breath, a hand clutched to his chest, and the waitress watched him worriedly.

      ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t think— The steps up to the terrace are quite steep... Perhaps I should have taken it more slowly...’

      ‘Please, don’t fuss,’ he said in a gruff voice. ‘Just bring me a whisky, will you?’

      ‘Of course. Right away.’ His command had been peremptory but, even so, the girl escorted Lord Branscombe to his table and made sure he was seated before she hurried away to get his drink.

      Around them, Sophie noticed the hubbub of conversation had died down. People cast surreptitious glances towards the occupant of the table in the corner and then began to speak in hushed voices. Lord Branscombe, for his part, ignored them all, lost in a world of his own. In his early sixties, he looked older, his hair greying, his face taut and a deep furrow etched into his brow.

      ‘Perhaps he shouldn’t be out and about,’ Jake murmured, echoing what everyone must surely be thinking. ‘He doesn’t look well.’

      ‘No, he doesn’t,’ Sophie said, a touch of bitterness threading her words. ‘But when did that ever stop him?’

      ‘True.’ He sent her a quick worried look. ‘I’m sorry. Of course, you know that