The Runaway Bridesmaid by Daisy James

and Tearoom, the residuary estate, after the discharge of the funeral expenses and any further estate liabilities, has been left to Miss Roseannah Bernice Hamilton of Hamilton’s Hardware Store, Stonington Beach, Connecticut. I wonder, Miss Hamilton, if you could provide evidence of your identity before you leave? It’s a formality only.’
    ‘Erm, yes, of course. I have my passport with me, as a matter of fact.’
    ‘It is recorded that the estate comprises mainly of Thornleigh Lodge in Brampton, the deeds to which we hold here at Richmond Morton in our strong room, and a small Post Office savings account which I think will cover the bequest to Mrs Moorfield. And that’s it.’
    Rosie remained immobile, her jaw slackened, staring at Austin Meadows, unable to form any expression or acknowledgement. All thought of his muscular torso evaporated from her mind as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying.
    ‘You have been appointed sole executrix. But, if you so instruct, I can apply for the Grant of Probate on your behalf forthwith, which will allow you to market the property immediately, if that is your preferred course.’
    She nodded.
    ‘Do you have any questions, Miss Hamilton?’
    Her brain refused to work.
    ‘Miss Hamilton?’
    ‘My aunt left her whole estate to me? Are you sure? There’s no mention of my father, Jack Hamilton, or my sister, Freya Hamilton?’ Now Bennett, of course.
    ‘No, Miss Hamilton. As I said, the will is very clear. Here is a copy for you to take away with you.’ Austin’s gold signet ring glanced in a ray of mid-morning sunshine filtering through the sash windows and bathing the office in a mellow glow. Trees beyond the windows swayed gently in the breeze, and somewhere in the office a clock ticked. She took the envelope and placed it reverently on her lap.
    Austin closed the file and leaned forward to Rosie. ‘Miss Ham…’
    ‘Oh, it’s Rosie, please…’
    ‘Rosie. I realise it may be too early for you to consider your options, but bearing in mind you intend to return to New York tomorrow and the distance involved, you may not wish to repeat the journey to Devon on a regular basis. Could I therefore offer you the additional services of Richmond Morton?
    ‘As well as solicitors and Commissioners for Oaths, we are an estate agency. I don’t know whether you have knowledge of the Devonshire property market, but Thornleigh Lodge is situated in a much sought-after village. I am certain there will be a good deal of interest. My firm could begin to market the property immediately. I hope you will forgive my impertinence, but I have taken the opportunity to appraise your aunt’s cottage and, despite its current condition, it would be likely to fetch in the region of £225,000.’
    Rosie had no baseline upon which to judge whether this was a fair valuation or not. Certainly New York’s ridiculous property market couldn’t be used as a barometer. But leaving everything in the strong, capable hands of Austin Meadows certainly had its appeal and presented Rosie with a very easy option. It was true; she had no interest or desire to return to Devon in the near future. To hand over the whole transaction – the collecting in of her aunt’s estate, the sale of Thornleigh Lodge and the paying out of Susan’s legacy – was an attractive proposition.
    ‘That does sound like a sensible proposal, Mr Meadows. My flight back to JFK leaves tomorrow morning. Could I request the afternoon to consider your offer and I’ll get back to you before my flight leaves?’
    Was that a faint twist of regret that she saw flash across his handsome features? If he knew she would be staying longer, would he have asked her for a date? Would she have said yes? Who was she kidding? For some reason she had cast Austin Meadows in the role of lead dreamboat in her own English country rom-com, with her as the irresistible daughter of the manor.
    ‘Certainly, Miss Hamilton.’ Austin removed his spectacles and