Down the Rabbit Hole

As she steered the car away from the town and toward the Highlands, she went over in her mind all the information she’d learned about her formidable opponent.

Colin Gordon had been educated like royalty. After attending boarding school at Eton, then moving on to Oxford and the University of Edinburgh, he’d returned to Stag’s Head Lodge, where his father had remarried after the death of Colin’s mother. Not long after, his father had died, followed shortly by his stepmother. As heir, Colin had taken the necessary steps to clean up an estate riddled with debt. It would seem his stern father had chosen to look the other way as his wife’s son and daughter by a previous marriage had partied like rock stars. Both were now married, but despite their established place in wealthy, titled society, rumors persisted that they were living beyond their means and were urging their stepbrother to sell Stag’s Head in order to erase their debt.

At Darda’s insistence, Beth had already notified all parties concerned of her pending arrival, in the hope that the stepsiblings could add a little weight to the deal.

Before leaving the country, Darda had given her niece her marching orders.

“Our firm has authorized you to offer one hundred million.”

Beth’s eyes widened. “So much?”

“Too much.” Darda’s tone hardened. “Start the offer at half. That way you have some bargaining room if he balks. For every million you shave off his price, the firm will add to your bonus.”

“Do you think that’s wise? What if he’s insulted by a lowball figure and flatly refuses to even deal with me?”

“That’s all part of the art of negotiating. You need to know just how far you can push the client before he loses interest.” Darda clapped a hand on her niece’s shoulder. “But I should add that I’ve found a lovely villa in the south of France that could be ours for just under five million.”

Ours. The very word registered as alien to Beth’s ears. Though Darda was responsible for raising her, she’d never felt any bond of kinship between them. In truth, Darda had always deliberately held Beth at arm’s length, sharing nothing but their name.

“Not bad for a few days of having to put up with a stuffy Highland lord. Did I mention that the firm arranged for you to stay on at Stag’s Head Lodge?”

“But why? If the negotiations should stall, don’t you think it would be a lot less awkward if I had a room in a nearby village?”

“Awkward for you or the client?” Darda’s eyes narrowed. “Your comfort isn’t important. You always want to remain close to the client. That way, whenever the opportunity presents itself, you’re there to press him.” Darda’s carefully cultured voice played through Beth’s mind. “Let me remind you. Not only is your job on the line here, but my reputation, as well. I expect you to do whatever it takes to land this deal. Do I make myself clear?”

Beth struggled to put aside any lingering guilt at the thought of separating a Highland lord from his ancestral estate. She knew she had to land this for the firm, no matter the cost to her conscience. After a lifetime of being told she was too tenderhearted, or, as Darda liked to say, too warm and fuzzy, to ever succeed in the hard-knock world of business and finance, she intended to finally win her aunt’s approval and guarantee a place with this new firm.

While she finalized her mental strategy for dealing with her hard-nosed client, she peered at the gunmetal gray clouds spitting rain over the gloomy countryside. In a strange way she welcomed the bleakness of the day. She needed no distractions as she went over in her mind the moves that Darda had so carefully planned and plotted.

As she drove through the village of Stag’s Head, she decided to make a stop, noting the clean streets, the smiling faces. It would be her last chance to be alone until the deal was finalized.

Though she hadn’t planned this, she found herself drawn to a little shop offering late-afternoon tea and scones.