Simon shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
“For fuck’s sake, Simon, enough! Don’t make me go back to Jed and shake him until he tells me. I will. I’ve had enough. You asked me for my help, and you’ve been hiding things the entire time.”
Simon looked heavenwards.
“It’s private, okay? It’s nothing to do with this.”
My turn to call bullshit. “Fine, I’m going to talk to Jed first thing tomorrow. Maybe you should stay home.” I opened the door to the car, climbed in, and started the engine.
“Wait, Arden, no.” Simon got in beside me. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “There is something. But it’s … it’s between me, Jed, and someone else.”
“Who?” But I knew the answer. I’d known it since the day in the hospital. Maybe before. Maybe when Simon had shaken his head at me when I’d first moved to Lilbury and told me there was more to certain people than meets the eye.
Simon gulped loudly. “Guy.”
Chapter 19
We used to play the drinking game ‘I Have Never’ when I was at university. I never did very well. Maybe I would do better now. Exhibit A: I’d never banged on an aristocrat’s door at two in the morning before. But here we are.
Simon hung back, looking like he was about to cut and run. Or more exactly, like he was desperately trying not to shit his pants.
Frankly, I couldn’t care less. He was pissing me off something chronic, and I wanted this over and done with.
There was no answer, so I banged again.
A light went on in the furthest reaches of Guy’s ‘cottage’, which was bigger than Wales.
In about twenty minutes, when whatever staff Guy had reached the front door, we’d be let in. I was glad for the break. It was a hot evening, and even though I’d finally stripped off the jacket and gloves I’d worn to leave no trace at Riz’s, I was still boiling, waves of sweat cascading off me.
The door opened, and Guy stood there in a blue silk dressing gown, with not much on underneath. He was rubbing his eyes and looked pretty fucked off at being roused from his dreams.
“Good.” I barged past him as he began to say something. Probably some obfuscating comments. More inane pleasantries.
“We need to talk,” I snapped.
“It’s 2 a.m.,” he said as he followed me into whichever room I was going into. “What the hell are you doing … Simon? Why are you hovering outside? What on earth is going on?”
“Come inside, Simon,” I said and walked into … I think it was some sort of living room antechamber. “The three of us need a conflab.”
Simon entered meekly. Well, as meekly as a man with shoulders that broad can. Guy tightened his dressing gown a little more, which was a relief as the sight of his sculpted golden skin was distracting me from my anger. And I wanted the anger. Anger was so much more useful than horniness.
“Right, straight to it. There is something between you two and Jed, something that may or may not have been the cause of Jed landing in hospital with half his skull cracked in, of photos of you getting fucked six ways from Sunday by Tarquin being leaked, and even more possibly, of Simon’s fiancé getting killed. I don’t know what it is, but Jed wants to tell everyone, whereas Simon, here, clams up like a top having his arsehole played with every time we broach the subject. So why don’t you tell us, Guy?”
Guy’s eyes darted around the room. “I … Arden, what the fuck is going on?” Guy hardly swore, even in private, so he must be confused and annoyed.
I didn’t care. “What did you three do?” I yelled.
That got his attention. He and Simon shared a look. Slowly, oh so slowly, Guy morphed from befuddled and half asleep to politician-in-waiting. “Arden, let’s take a seat.”
“Nope!” I yelled. “I don’t know about you, Guy. But I found a dead body a couple of weeks ago, and you bastards know something about what caused it, and yet, no one is coming forward. So, I’m done with being polite.”
Guy took a seat, still looking at Simon. He gestured for me to do so as well. “Let’s not yell, it’s late. You’re clearly emotional.”
“Fuck off,” I snapped.
“Arden,” Guy said, using a voice I hadn’t heard from him before. “Don’t speak like that to me in my own home. Please, take a seat, and let’s discuss this like adults.” I recognised the voice; it was his public-school voice, his landed gentry voice, his lord of the manor voice. The one that saidNo, peasant, you do what I tell you to do. You don’t give the orders around here.
The very idea of it made my skin crawl. Instantly, I hated him. The fact that he’d asked me out twice was laughable right now. We were from different worlds. Actually, I was from a different world from him, Simon, and everyone else in this fucking village. Why did I keep forgetting that?
