Page 81 of The Devil’s Lair

Xan holds up his middle finger.

Dad grins and claps me on the back. “What’s up, Son?”

I take a breath and go for it. “This may seem like an odd question, but did I have a governess growing up or need additional help with my schooling at any time?”

Without hesitation, Dad nods. “After your mother died, you struggled, and your grades began to suffer. I left you for a while, sure you’d find your way as you navigated your grief, but when your teachers told me things weren’t getting any better, I hired someone to give you extra tuition a couple of evenings a week.”

A prickle of unease makes its way down my spine. “What was her name?”

“Ava Southall. Nice woman. Husband was a bit of a control freak. Used to insist on coming with her.”

The name means nothing to me. Nothing, yet my body reacts. Chills race through me, and my heart rate spikes.

“How long did I study with her?”

“Not long—two or three months. You didn’t make the improvements we hoped for. In fact, you went backward, retreating into your shell, hardly talking to anyone. Your teachers said your schoolwork was worse than ever, so I fired her. From there”—he gestures to my brothers—“Alexander and Nicholas helped you. After a year or so, you’d caught up and were back on track.” He frowns. “What’s brought this on?”

“Not sure yet. Rebecca asked me if I’d had tuition after I… after I reacted the way I did at dinner last night. I wondered if the two were connected.”

“They could be,” Nicholas says. “That was a pretty awful time for all of us. Your mind could have connected the extra tuition with Mum and Annabel’s deaths and got muddled up.”

“Yeah, probably.” I scuff a hand over the top of my head. “Thanks. I’ll leave you to it. Giving Isla another riding lesson today.”

Dad’s face lights up. “You’ve really fallen for her, haven’t you?”

For a split second, I think he’s talking about Rebecca, and I freeze. When I realize he means Isla, my spine unlocks. “Yeah. She’s pretty damn amazing.”

I get back in the car. Instead of starting the engine, I sit there, staring through the windshield. Why don’t I remember that woman? I’d just turned eight and had recently lost my mother and my sister in dreadful circumstances, so perhaps it’s unsurprising I have gaps in my memory.

After a few minutes musing on it and getting nowhere, I set off for Oakleigh. Rebecca and Isla are in the entrance hall, waiting. Isla’s kitted out in the cute little riding kit I got for her, and Rebecca is wearing faded jeans and a white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves and open at the neck, paired with a pair of black flat boots. She’s left her hair loose, and her face is makeup free.

She’s never looked more beautiful.

With difficulty, I tear my gaze away and focus my attention on Isla. “Ready for lesson number two, kiddo?”

Isla nods vigorously, then slides her hand inside mine and tugs me toward the door. I melt. This kid is my everything, and I never even saw it coming.

“What did your dad say?” Rebecca asks in a low tone.

Isla pulls herself free and skips ahead, allowing me to talk freely. “I did have private tuition, though not for long. Two or three months, he said, shortly after Mum and Annabel passed away.” I screw up my nose. “I have absolutely no memories of it. None at all.” I peer down at her. “Nor do I understand why I acted the way I did when Victoria suggested a governess for Isla. It’s frustrating.”

She slides her arm through the crook of mine, the action so normal, I’m not sure why it almost stops my heart. “I’m no psychologist—far from it—but maybe you should try to forget about it and let your brain work on it in the background. The answers you seek may just come to you. Or, I don’t know, consider therapy?”

I smile at the mention of therapy again. “I hear you. I am thinking about it, I promise. And what about you? Thought anymore about what Preston said?”

“A bit. I’m still not sure what the best thing to do is.”

“Take your time. You’re in control, not them.”

Isla takes to riding as though she was born in the saddle, while Rebecca is still leery, fighting between wanting to keep her distance from the pony and staying close enough to Isla in case she’s needed. A mother’s instinct, I guess, though I love that she trusts me enough to let me take the lead.

After an hour, I lift Isla down and show her how to untack the pony, then rub her down where she’s sweated underneath the saddle. As we walk back to the house, with Isla skipping ahead again in a picture of contentment, I make a decision.

“I’m going to hire a private investigator to look into the governess I had as a kid.”

Rebecca nods. “That’s a good idea. If you can find her, maybe she’ll have some answers for you.”

I hope so. If she doesn’t, I’m not sure where I go from there.