For a few seconds, all we could hear was the wind in the vines, and the clicking of frogs in the distance.
Then James swore loudly. The sound of something hitting the gravel, a glass, maybe. “You’re ruining everything,” he said finally, his voice shaking. “You just couldn’t leave it alone.”
Ethan stepped forward. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Exactly,” James said. “You should’ve said something years ago. Not now. Not a few nights before I marry her.”
Ethan’s voice cracked as he spoke. “She has the right to know.”
James didn’t answer. Just turned and walked off with clenched fists, his footsteps fading into the dark.
Ethan stayed where he was, breathing hard, his hands on his hips. Then he turned away towards the vines, and even from here, under the glow of the lights, I could see the exhaustion in his eyes.
I exhaled slowly. “Bloody hell. For a moment there, I thought they were going to get physical”.
“Mm.” Noah agreed, still staring towards the vines. “Does this happen at every wedding?”
“Only the expensive ones,” I responded dryly.
We stood there for another minute, not talking, just watching Ethan in the half-light. So calm. So careful. And anything but restrained right now. I sighed. “Well. Tomorrow’s going to be interesting.”
Noah hummed without humour. “Interesting’s one word for it.”
I nodded towards the vineyard. “You think this is just about Caroline, or something else?”
He hesitated. “Honestly? It feels like everyone has a secret.”
The vines rustled before us softly, as if agreeing.
We tiptoed back to the terrace, careful not to make a sound.
The drawing room felt oddly hushed when we stepped inside, the sort of stillness that settles after a long day of people talking over one another. The terrace doors clicked shut behind us, muting the crickets and the distant hum of the Estate.
I breathed out with half a laugh, half disbelief. “Well,” I said, “that wasn’t on the schedule.”
Noah rubbed a hand over his face, still half smiling. “I don’t think you can plan for that sort of thing.”
“You’d be surprised,” I said. “I once spent forty minutes talking a groom out of cancelling his wedding because his future father-in-law called him ‘sport’ in the wrong tone. I’m practically a crisis manager at this point.”
He grinned, the corners of his mouth curving in that slow, understated way that made it impossible not to smile back. “Still, I wasn’t expecting those two to be arguing like that.”
The drawing room was low-lit, the faint smell of woodsmoke and old oak barrels lingering in the air. I kicked off my heels without thinking; my feet were throbbing after twelve hours of pretending to glide.
Noah leaned against the mantel, eyes still on me. “Do you think they’re okay?”
“James and Ethan?” I shrugged. “They’ll either make up or one of them will fake food poisoning before breakfast. My money’s on Ethan. He’s too composed to punch someone, but he won’t ignore it either.”
Noah’s brow lifted. “You think he’s capable of messing things up on purpose?”
I hesitated. “I don’t know. But I’ve seen people do stupid things under wedding pressure. It’s like a magnet for bad decisions.”
He chuckled. “Sometimes it’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch.”
I let that thought swirl around for a bit, then glanced around the room. The faint gleam of the family portraits, the creak of the old timber floors, it all felt heavier in a way, layered with too much history.
My mind started ticking. “Noah, what if it’s connected? The brooch, the argument… all of it. Maybe Ethan knows something.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “You think he’d actually steal it?”
