Georgia Hill

“Hugh Collins wasn’t exactly what Perdita had visualised as a northern landlord. An elegant man with beautifully styled white hair, he was dressed in a red velvet waistcoat and smelled distinctly of whisky. It looked like James had long since made himself comfortable and was lounging in front of a roaring open fire, with what looked like a single malt in his glass. Perdita felt her temper rise but stifled it and decided to direct what little energy she had left elsewhere. She followed, dumbed by fatigue, to a back room where Hugh had laid a table in front of another huge fire.”
― Georgia Hill, Pursued by Love