"That's brilliant. Really brilliant." And it was. Sasha meant it completely, even as something sharp and painful twisted behind her ribs. "You must be thrilled."
"I am. It's exactly the sort of position I've been hoping for. Senior level, excellent firm, the kind of opportunity that could really set my career back on track." Victoria closed her laptop, stood up with that fluid grace that made everything she did look effortless.
"Perfect timing, then."
"It is." Victoria moved closer, and despite everything, despite the growing certainty that this was all moving toward an inevitable conclusion, Sasha still felt her pulse quicken when Victoria's hand found her waist. "Though I have to admit, I'm going to miss this. The break from London, I mean. The gardens. The family chaos. All of it."
"It's been a good holiday."
"The best." Victoria's eyes were dark, unreadable. "I should probably start packing soon. Get organized for the interview."
She kissed Sasha then, soft and sweet and tinged with something that tasted like goodbye, and Sasha kissed back while trying very hard not to think about Sophie's question or the wayher chest had tightened when Victoria mentioned going back to London.
Because the truth was, somewhere between gardening lessons and stolen kisses and watching Victoria laugh with genuine happiness, Sasha had done something spectacularly stupid.
She'd fallen completely, irrevocably in love with someone who would never stop for long enough to notice.
Chapter Twenty-Four
House parties, in Victoria’s opinion, required far too many logistics. Logic, she liked, logistics, on the other hand, should be left to other people. Like party planners, for example. But her mother didn’t believe in party planners.
"Victoria, darling," Lady Charlotte called, clipboard in hand and looking like a general planning a campaign, "could you help me with the music selection? I need someone with a discerning ear."
"Of course," Victoria said, though her discerning ear was currently tuned to the sound of Sasha's laughter drifting in from the terrace, where she was apparently helping Ambrose hang fairy lights with the sort of enthusiasm that suggested she actually enjoyed manual labor. Which was both charming and deeply problematic for Victoria's concentration.
Through the window, she could see Sasha standing on a stepladder, reaching up to secure lights to the pergola. Her dress had ridden up slightly, revealing a tantalizing stretch of thighthat made Victoria's mouth go dry. She was going to develop a permanent crick in her neck from all this sneaky window-watching.
The physical ache of wanting her was becoming ridiculous. Every glimpse of Sasha laughing with her family, every casual brush of their hands when they passed in hallways, was driving Victoria slowly insane. And then there were the nights. The nights when they barely slept and when they did, they awoke tangled in a pile of sweaty, slippery limbs.
And every single time she saw Sasha, she had one primary thought. That she'd gotten in deeper than she'd intended. Much, much deeper.
"I was thinking perhaps some light classical for dinner, maybe a few standards afterward," her mother continued, apparently oblivious to Victoria's distraction. "Nothing too modern. Your grandmother still hasn't recovered from that unfortunate incident with the DJ at the Wilcox wedding."
"Right." Victoria forced her attention back to the conversation. "Classical sounds lovely."
"Wonderful. Now, about the seating arrangements. I'm thinking we put the Ashworths near the windows, they do love a good view, and perhaps the Harrisons closer to the drinks table. Lord Harrison does get rather chatty when he's had a few, and proximity to refreshments might keep him in good spirits."
Victoria nodded along, making appropriate noises while her brain continued its unhelpful fixation on the woman currently untangling herself from fairy lights on the terrace. Even covered in string lights and looking slightly ridiculous, Sasha was gorgeous. And completely unsuitable. And unlikely to put up with someone who worked twenty hours a day. And leaving soon anyway, so what was the point in torturing herself?
"The catering should arrive at around noon," Lady Charlotte was saying, ticking items off her list with brisk efficiency. "And the quartet confirmed they'll be here by four."
"Mmm," Victoria agreed, watching Sasha hand Ambrose another string of lights. Their easy camaraderie made something twist in her stomach.
"Though I must say, it's been lovely having extra help with the preparations. Sasha's been absolutely wonderful, so enthusiastic about everything. Such a refreshing change from some of the girls Archie's brought home."
"Yes, she's very helpful," Victoria managed, her voice sounding oddly strained even to her own ears.
"And so naturally suited to life here. It's remarkable how quickly she's taken to everything." Lady Charlotte's tone was carefully casual.
Victoria made a noncommittal sound, not trusting herself to speak.
"Your father mentioned you need to dash off to London tomorrow," her mother continued, her voice taking on a slight edge. "Rather unfortunate timing, with the party and all."
Victoria winced. She'd had that conversation with her father an hour ago, and it had gone about as well as a root canal. He'd fixed her with that steady look that had been reducing his children to confession since they were small and asked why she was "abandoning ship" when her mother could use help.
"It's unavoidable, I'm afraid. Rather urgent client situation."
"I'm sure it is." Lady Charlotte made a note on her clipboard, her pen scratching against the paper with unnecessary force. "These urgent situations do seem to crop up at the most inconvenient times."
