‘When I didn’t hear back from Angus, I thought he’d been killed or that he didn’t want to be part of our lives, so I married a man who did. Dad vowed to keep us, even though he knew you weren’t his child. In return, I promised never to tell anyone, and that included you, my dearest child.’ She put her arms around her. ‘I hated deceiving you, but if I’d said anything, Frank would have divorced me and he would have kept you away from me.’
Horrified, Annabel pulled away. ‘Is he going to take me? Mum—’
But Caroline hugged her tightly. ‘He’ll never take you. Unfortunately,there’s something that he loves more than you, me and any awful retribution he might have planned.’
‘The races,’ Annabel intoned.
‘And to be more precise, the money that enables him to gamble. I found proof that he’d taken out a loan on the back of my job. If the bank finds out I’m no longer living with him, they’ll call in their loan and take possession of the house.’ She clicked her fingers, the action unlike her, loud and audacious, and she felt something she hadn’t for a very long time: control over her own life.
They stayed there for a while, held in each other’s arms, until Annabel said, ‘Are you going to tell Angus that you left Dad?’
Caroline pulled back to look at her daughter. ‘I thought we could spend some time by ourselves, you and me, now that we know we can. Perhaps we might visit my home in Yorkshire, and then, if you want, maybe we can go to Balmoral.’
‘I’ve always wanted to go there, Mum, and especially now I know that he’s my father.’ Annabel pulled away, shaking her head to get used to it. ‘Why don’t you write to him? Tell him what happened. I’m sure he’d like to see us, too.’ She grinned. ‘And he said he’d take me riding again, so what do we have to lose?’
And so, later that evening, when everyone had gone to bed, Caroline switched on the lamp beside Betty’s old kitchen table and began to write.
Dear Angus,
There’s a lot to say, but I’ll keep this short for now. Annabel and I are no longer living with Frank – we’re staying with Betty. We’ll be here until the coronation, but after that, well, we are free agents to go wherever the wind takes us.
I thought I would let you know.
With all my love,
Caroline
MIRANDA
THE MORNING WAS BRIGHT,THE RED,WHITE AND BLUEcoronation flags waving in the breeze as Miranda hurried through the streets to the Horse Guard Café. Sinclair had asked her to meet him there, and she couldn’t wait.
What had happened between them surprised her in all kinds of ways, especially how much they’d talked into the night. It wasn’t until midnight that he’d walked her home, the two of them meandering through the empty streets to Camden. The more she shared about her life, about Jack, the lighter she felt. It hadn’t entered her mind that she might find someone who’d understand her like Sinclair did. She hadn’t mentioned her job in New York, of course, but she’d face that hurdle later. It was too complicated with the coronation so close – there were still a lot of details she needed for O’Hara. What’s more, she couldn’t find her notebook, which wasn’t helpful.
As soon as she entered the café, she spotted him sitting in the corner, reading over some papers. She was struck by how good-looking he was – not in a conventional way, but there was something about his form that made her want to reach out and touch him.
An irrepressible smile came to her face as she sat down. ‘It’s good to see you.’
She reached her hand over to his, but he moved it out of the way.
Then, without looking at her, he pulled something out of his bag. ‘I have something for you.’
And just like that, he slid her notebook across the table.
She swallowed, trying to take it in, her insides folding in on themselves.
‘You’re J. Marshall, the infiltrator,’ he said, his eyes still on the notebook. ‘The only reason you’re here is to write articles for a New York paper.’
‘I can explain,’ she said, thinking fast on her feet. ‘It’s just a game I was playing, pretending...’ Her excuses petered out as he looked straight at her, his eyes tired and hurt.
‘You betrayed my trust, Miranda. And what’s more, you involved me in your devious little games, risked my job, my career. How could you?’
She felt her stomach crunching inside her, bile rising up through her throat.
But he just glowered at her. ‘Whoareyou, Miranda?’
Unwanted tears sprung to her eyes. ‘I’mme,Sinclair! I’m still Miranda. I’m still the same person you know, your friend, your... well, whatever we are.’
‘Whatever we are? Was I just part of the plan, a pawn in your game?’ He tilted his head. ‘Or maybe I was just a muse to while away your time in this’ – he flipped through her notebook to quote her – ‘“this interminably backward workplace”?’
