Page 87

Kate and Alex glance at each other.

“She’ll be fine.” Theo puts his arm around my shoulder, and I lean into him.

“Come on,” Kate says to Alex. “Let’s go see if your dad’s started on the sherry yet.”

“Do not let him drink anything,” Theo says to Alex.

“I’m not his keeper. And you try stopping dad from drinking. Especially when our darling mother’s around.”

Theo lets out a long breath. Then shakes his head. “Ready?” he asks me.

I nod, because I am. So ready to be out of here and alone with him. He laces his fingers through mine, and as we step outside the icy cold air stings against my skin.

And yet somehow it’s still preferable to the bustling interior of Ravensmere. To the polished smiles. And a woman who knows exactly which boots to wear, and exactly where she fits.

Out here, at least, I only have to worry about the mud.

The thin layer of snow that blanketed the fields yesterday is melting away, leaving everything damp and muddy. It’s still freezing, though. There are no hills here to shield us from the ice cold wind that’s whipping up from the shoreline.

I shiver and Theo puts his arm around me as the pack of dogs hurtle toward us, howling with delight at the sight of humans mad enough to go walking on a day like today.

The tallest dog, with long spindly legs and the kind of facial structure a thoroughbred would be proud of, jumps up at Theo, licking his face.

“I’m pleased to see you too, Fitz.” He gently pushes him down. “But your breath smells rancid.”

“Fitz?” I ask.

“Short for Fitzwilliam Darcy. Barbara named him.” Theo shrugs. “She has a thing for Colin Firth.”

“Who doesn’t?” I murmur as another dog licks my hand. They follow us as we walk for about a mile, until we get to a patch of trees with a tiny path between them, that opens to the grassy dunes and a pale sandy beach, then they turn back like they’re bored of us, seeking better entertainment.

But it’s the sea that steals the air from my lungs. It’s fierce and angry, big waves smashing against the beach. Kelp is strewn along the shoreline, along with driftwood and foam. A few plastic bottles are tangled up in the weeds.

“Want to paddle?” Theo asks, grinning.

“I’d rather pull my fingernails out one by one,” I half-shout as the wind whips our faces, stealing my breath. Salty spray clings to our skin. Theo pulls me against him, my back to his chest, and rests his chin on my head as we stare out at the inky water.

“Is the sea warmer in the summer?” I ask, as he starts to draw circles on my stomach.

“No,” he murmurs in my ear. “Still fucking freezing. But we still swim anyway.”

“That’s very British of you.” I bite down a smile. “Stiff upper lip.”

“That’s the only thing that gets stiff in ice cold water.”

I laugh softly.

“Back when I was a kid, and when we had more staff, it was tradition to swim here on Christmas Eve,” he tells me.

“You went in?”

“Yep. We didn’t get a choice. My father felt it was character building.”

“Did he go in?”

This time Theo laughs. “God, no. He might’ve spilled his drink.”

“That doesn’t sound very character building of him,” I murmur. “I used to stay in the warm with my mom and watch movies.”