Page 90

Theo glances over my shoulder toward Ravensmere, and I turn to follow his gaze.

From here, it looks almost beautiful. Pale stone against a washed-out sky. Smoke rising from the chimneys, like something from the front of a Christmas card.

He straightens. “Ready to head back?” he asks.

I’m not, but I came here for him. So I nod and we start walking, and by the time we reach the lawn, it feels like the carefree boy from the cottage is gone.

After lunch, Ravensmere shifts into overdrive. We’ve barely finished the quiche and salad Barbara made before she’s clearing plates with military efficiency. I go to stand and help her, but she presses a firm hand to my shoulder.

“Sit down, lovely,” she says firmly. “You’re a guest.”

Two more delivery vans crunch up the gravel outside, and men climb out, bringing boxes through the back door.

At the head of the table, Theo’s father reaches for a bottle of something amber and lifts it in the air like a trophy, standing up and glancing our way.

“Theo,” he calls. “I need a word. In my study.”

Theo lets out a sigh and leans over to me. “Why don’t you head upstairs for a bit? Grab some peace and quiet while you can.”

“Sounds good.” I’d like some alone time before the party, anyway. And it’s the twenty-third, after all. I haven’t said anything to Theo, but it’s the day I was supposed to get married. It’s history, and I don’t want to think too much about it, but it’s still hanging around my brain as I head up the stairs.

I almost walk into Kate on the top landing, where she’s talking quietly into her phone. As soon as she sees me she stops speaking, and pulls the phone away from her ear.

“Oh hi,” she says, sliding her phone into her pocket. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I’m heading up to get a little rest.”

She smiles. “Where’s Theo?”

“With his dad and Alex in the study.”

“Oh.” She widens her eyes. “I imagine a bottle of whiskey is involved. Enjoy your rest.”

She brushes past me, and I get the faintest whiff of her perfume. The low, almost exotic, aroma makes my nose itch.

I walk into Theo’s bedroom and close the door behind me, pulling my phone out of my pocket because I remember the missed call from earlier. The little voicemail notification is still on my screen.

For a second I stare at it.

Then I press play.

It takes longer than it should to connect. The signal here is terrible. The little circle spins and spins, like it’s deciding whether listening to this is a good idea.

Then the message clicks to life.

“Georgia, it’s me. Different phone. Please call me. We need to talk.”

He doesn’t even say his name, but I know it’s Patrick’s voice all the same. God, what an asshole, wanting to talk to me on what should have been our wedding day.

I hit delete before I can overthink it, because I’m not going to let him ruin my mood. And then I put my phone back in my pocket and open my suitcase, pulling out my laptop and notes.

If I have some free time before we need to get ready, I might as well put it to some use. The last couple of days have given me more insight into the British aristocracy than a documentary ever could.

One thing’s for sure. I’m not sure money brings much happiness around here.

20

THEO