“How did you—?”
“When you told me they were coming over, I got them from under your bed and made copies. Replaced these with the fakes.” She looked up from the pictures in time to see the wide sadness swimming in Thomas’s eyes. He made no effort to conceal it. “They burned the ones of my mom, too. Never had a chance to save them.”
“I,” she choked out, “don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll quit?”
“Not a chance.”
As easy as tying her hair up in a ponytail, Sam tied away the swell of gratitude she felt.
“I had to try. C’mon. Walk me downstairs?”
Soon, they were in the entryway, waiting for their father to join them. The Animos Reunion in London wasnotto be missed, not for anyone with any consequential position in Great Britain, so her father had to be in attendance. Everyone would want an audience with the future leader of the House of Lords.
“Lads, I’m off. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Thomas was struggling, and failing greatly, to hide his disdain for the men crowded around the open French doors of the sitting room. The tension only got incrementally less awkward when he exchanged his too-expensive-to-look-so-cheap reading glasses for a pair of dark-tinted Ray-Bans. Once his eyes were hidden, his tight smile was the only indicator of his displeasure.
“Right.” Captain grabbed Sam by her thick waist and dragged her back toward him. She threw out a game laugh, shooting her brother a millionplease don’t fuck this up for melooks as she did. She wasn’t afraid of Captain. He liked to lord the possibility of danger over her. It was the power, not the submission, he held onto for dear life. “We’ll take care of your little girl, don’t you worry.”
Thomas couldn’t even maintain the thinnest, most obligatory of smiles. He shouted up the stairs. “Father, are you ready?”
“I’m coming. I’m coming.”
Her dignified father trudged down the stairs, nothing but a suit bag slung over his shoulder. He traveledmuchlighter than Thomas, who was three bags heavy. He lit up when he saw the glistening blue tails of their houseguests. The old man didn’t exactlysmile,but he certainly was more pleasant than he’d ever been with her. Less guarded. She would wear their uniform every day for the rest of her life if he looked at her the way he was looking at them.
“Ah, gentlemen! Come to see us off, have you? We’re very pleased to see you’re folding Sam into the ranks.” She would have lied if she said such a simple acknowledgment didn’t make her heart swell. “The cellar is open. The staff’s here for your needs. You—”
He pointed at Captain, who stepped forward, crinkled uniform, baggy eyes, and all. Somehow, the bastard still managed to look like the pride of Great Britain, everything fathers wanted from their sons. He introduced himself with a slight bow.
“Reginald Wavell. Future Earl of Hillsborough, sir. At your service.”
“You’re in charge.”
Sure. Give control over to the guy who doesn’t live here. I don’t exist. I’m nothing more than a shy and retiring woman.
“Take care of the place.” Her father reached for a sweater, tugging it haphazardly off of a coatrack near the door. Ideas flew from his lips before he had time to consider how they struck the assembled parties in the room. At least, Samhopedher father was excitable and thoughtless. Because if it was a real suggestion, she might have considered poisoning Captain in his sleep. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll be yours someday. The first Animos Society wedding.”
If the suggestion disturbed anyone else, they didn’t dare show it in front of the future Lord Speaker of the House of Lords.
“Wavell. Your father sits next to me in Chambers. How’s the old man?”
Their voices dissolved into the background as Sam turned her attention to the glass panes decorating the front door, giving a wide view of the grand circular drive and the lands beyond.
It was really beautiful, Ashbrooke. Like stepping into another time. Some days, when she was walking along the paths outside, she’d carry a book and pretend she was Elizabeth Bennet, rushing home to meet her large, welcoming family at Longbourn. It wasn’t hard to imagine Ashbrooke as one of those grand Regency houses. Mostly because it had been around since the eleventh century, so… During the Regency, ithadbeen one of those Regency houses.
It was less easy to imagine it covered in curricles and flushed maidens when a vintage Rolls-Royce—her father’s car of choice—curved around the gravel drive, stopping dead in front of the house to give Sam a full view of the decidedly unhistorical man driving it.
Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seenhimbefore. Rising from the car, but keeping the engine running, he stood to his full height. Standing well over six feet, he glistened in the rare British sun, his tan skin broken up by blocks of car oil and grease. A tight, holey T-shirt and a pair of work coveralls tied at the waist revealed the strength in his smooth, surprisingly languid form. This was not a man who’d ever lost a fight. He was a man chiseled from stone, with high cheekbones and floppy, golden hair. His eyes were…green? No, she couldn’t tell, but she could tell how they would crinkle at the edges if he smiled too wide.
Behind her, someone cleared their throat. She didn’t pay attention. She couldn’t look away. A busy mind made quick work of memorizing him. She’d… She’d never seen a man like him. Certainly not one so handsome, not in person.
There was something else, though. Something not entirely physical about him. He seemed…good. Not a breath of pretension or falsehood hung around his broad shoulders.
He wasreal.
She’d been surrounded by the elite of Great Britain for weeks now, but none of them caught her heart and held it by the wings like a hunted butterfly like this man did without even realizing it.
Not that she was interested in that kind of thing. She wasn’t. She definitely wasn’t.
