“Charlie lost his grandmother last year, you know. He was quite distraught.”
He was? I didn’t like to doubt her account, but the only time Charlie had mentioned a grandmother was when a duty visit was due each Christmas. And he’d never been complimentary.
“That was when he started staying out instead of spending his time here. It must have upset him even more than he divulged to me.” Her eyes were intent on mine. “It was a shame that thingsdidn’t work out between you and Charlie. He benefited from your steadiness.”
That smarted. It wasn’tmyfault we’d split up. “Perhaps he should have thought of that before he ended things.” Or cheated.
“He’s always been a little impetuous,” she allowed. “But you know that. You knowhim.I think that if you were to spend more time with Charlie, it would give him a reason to come home. One that didn’t remind him of his loss the way the rest of us do. He needs an anchor, and I think you can provide that.”
Somehow, I managed to control the expression on my face. What did she think I’d been, Charlie’s boyfriend or his therapist? Either way, I didn’t want to spend time with him.
Mrs Fortescue waved away the fact Alex and I had given our apologies for supper with a lack of concern unlikely to be replicated by the staff cooking our meal, who’d suddenly have to conjure two more plates. She took me down to supper, her hand through the crook of my arm, and practically shoved me into the seat beside Charlie’s usual place. He wasn’t there.
I swiftly texted Alex under the table when no one was looking.
Tomorrow night?
He sent a thumbs up in response. When I met his gaze across the table, he looked as frustrated as I felt. He didn’t seem to blame me for the wrecking of our plans, at least. That was little enough comfort when I thought what I’d expected to be doing at this minute, pressing nakedly against him and kissing him.
I looked down at my plate. Tomorrow. It was only twenty-four hours away. I could wait that long.
But I didn’t want to wait.
ALEX
“Beckford’s Tower?” Nate asked me, as we left the house the following morning.
“I assume that’s a place you’re suggesting we visit rather than you’ve suddenly lost the ability to speak in plain English.”
“It would be an excuse to take the car out, and it’s almost the right period. Although Miss Austen is unlikely to have moved in the same circles as such a dissolute character as Beckford, who was filthy rich and is said to have enjoyed orgies with his harem of young, male servants.”
“He soundsmuchtoo interesting,” I agreed as we left the Circus and headed for the lock-up where Nate kept the car. “Tell me about him.”
Nate’s knowledge of William Beckford was slightly less comprehensive than his mastery of breeches. When he reached the end of his facts, I let him concentrate on threading through the Bath traffic while I looked for more scandalous Beckford titbits on my phone.
“Alex.”
Something in the way Nate said my name alarmed me. “What?”
“There’s a red Ferrari a few cars back. Can you keep your eye on it?”
“I can,” I said. “Mind telling me why?”
“Steven has a red Ferrari.”
I sat up straight and began to pay attention. “Do you think he’s following us?”
“I don’t know.”
“I suppose Ferraris are ten-a-penny around here.” I wanted him to tell me they were.
“Not really. Okay, I’m about to pull in. See if it’s him when it goes past.”
Whether by accident or design, as we pulled off the road the Ferrari accelerated and overtook the line of cars passing us. That meant I couldn’t see a damn thing, and by the time it returned to our side of the road, it was too far away for me to read the numberplate.
There was something cold in my belly. “You don’t really think he was following us, if it was him. Do you?”
Nate had turned off the engine and was staring through the windscreen. “I don’t see how hecanhave been. You’re the only person who knows where I keep the car—I booked a private garage before reaching Bath. So he can’t have followed us. If itwashim, perhaps it was just coincidence.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Was his car there when we left the house?”
