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Tia dipped her head but couldn’t repeat the lie. Cressida noticed and her face fell again. She blinked across at Hamish, frowned, then began to walk slowly towards the back door of the house. Even her walk seemed dejected. But Tia couldn’t care. She moved to stand directly in front of Hamish but didn’t drop his hand. “Are you okay?”

His eyes were unlike anything she’d ever seen. Hard and cold, loaded with the sort of dark emotions she couldn’t have imagined him capable of feeling. This was like a whole other version of Hamish; there was something in his expression that reminded her almost of Roman.

She blinked but the visage didn’t clear. “Hamish?”

“I told him not to invite them,” he said, the words ringing with anger. Tia felt it land in her soul. It was, for Hamish, just another betrayal. His father had disregarded his perfectly reasonable request and included Ewan and Cressida in this weekend that was supposed to be about Hamish seeing his mother. She lifted a hand and pressed it to his chest.

She tried to bring her professional skills to bear—the reasonable, calm version of Tia, who saw all sides of an argument. “I’m sure your father did what he thought was best.”

Hamish looked almost as though Tia had betrayed him. She sighed, flattening her palm so she could feel his heart, ignoring the way heat seemed to spark like tiny explosions beneath her skin.

“I’m not saying I agree with him,” she added. “But until you’ve spoken to him, perhaps it’s worth giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

Hamish’s jaw clenched. “I came home to see my mother, who may very well be dying. I could have done without this.”

“And that’s valid,” she agreed. “Why do you think your dad disregarded your request?”

“He just wants things to go back to normal.”

“I suppose that’s fair enough, for a parent to feel that way. It doesn’t mean he condones what they did.”

Hamish’s features seemed infused with steel. “They have given multiple interviews since Ewan and Cressida’s engagement that tell me exactly how delighted they were with the development.”

Tia winced. She’d seen some of those. One of the lines stuck out in particular, You can’t fail to see how right they are when you’re with them. They just make sense. Hamish’s mother had been photographed beside the quote, smiling dotingly at her youngest son and his newly-minted fiancée.

Tia sighed. “Look, I think what they did to you is the pits. The lowest of the low. I don’t condone dishonesty or cheating, lying and running around behind someone’s back. And given your family’s profile, it was inevitable that the press would find out. You deserved so much better,” she said, with a pause between the last three words. “But this is your family, and your mom needs you. That’s why we’re here.” She stared at him then with the kind of look she gave a buyer when she needed to get a deal over the line. “And we are here. Me and you, together, and I’m going to help you through this. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together, okay, Lord Ashcombe?”

His gaze seemed to look directly inside of her, to pull her apart, piece by piece and finally he nodded. “Thank you, Lady Ashcombe. Shall we go and see inside?”

Tia nodded. But as they moved towards the same doors Cressida had disappeared through minutes earlier, hands still held, Tia made herself a silent promise. She’d come here knowing she needed to play the part of Hamish’s wife, to soothe his mother’s concerns about his future and his intention to provide the next heir of this proud and ancient country estate, but silently, she made herself another promise. She wouldn’t just tick the boxes required, she’d blow them out of the water.

It was petty, but the thought of making the other couple suffer for what they’d done to Hamish was too appealing to resist. Nothing awful. Nothing sinister. She’d just dote on him as Hamish deserved to be doted upon—as Cressida should have done—and she’d enjoy watching them squirm. And at the very least, it felt like a victory for Hamish to be returning ‘happily married’, life firmly moved on, even when that was far from the truth.

It was hard to think he wasn’t still a little in love with Cressida, given the way he’d reacted to her, and even when she knew it was none of her business, on some level, Tia hated them all for that. She wished there was a way to truly set Hamish free from this curse.

Chapter Eight

SEEING CRESSIDA AND EWAN HUDDLED together in the kitchen took his breath away. Ewan had an arm around her waist, as though holding her steady, and her head was bent over the damn bunch of roses, vase in the sink long-forgotten. Their voices were too low for Hamish to hear anything, but it didn’t matter. This image of them would have overpowered his ability to hear, anyway.

He'd seen pictures. He’d tormented himself with them, in the months that followed his departure from the UK. But he only realised as he crossed the threshold that he hadn’t seen them together. Not as a couple. He’d seen Cressida, after their affair hit the papers, and he’d seen Ewan, but separately, each coming to plead their case, to apologise and explain. As though there could ever be an explanation for what they put him through.

Anger shot through him, fierce and raw, almost as if the betrayal had just happened. Perhaps this was how it would always be?

He wanted to turn on his heel and leave, to walk right out the front door and drive away, go back to the life he’d built in New York, even when on some level it didn’t feel ‘real’. What was real, anyway? Once upon a time, he would have said his love with Cressida, and look how wrong he’d been about that.

But if he left now, they’d know they still had the ability to affect him and he damn well had no intention of showing them that. Pride surged through him and in some way, he felt it was a gift right from the woman beside him. Like she’d poured a secret strength into him with her promise of staying by his side, of being what he needed this weekend.

“I understand we arrived ahead of schedule,” he said, voice deep in the silence of the room.

Ewan straightened, dropping his arm guiltily. Hamish smirked with disbelief. It was a bit late for that kind of reaction, wasn’t it?

“Haim,” Ewan had the audacity to use the childhood nickname. “Cressie tells me you’re married.” His eyes shifted to Tia and something else fired through Hamish then. Something protective and white-hot.

“Yes, and while she’s very beautiful, I assure you, she’s completely devoted to me, so no point tilting your cap.”

He felt Cressida stiffen, saw the indignant rage on Ewan’s face and then a crestfallen look of acceptance before Ewan took a few steps towards Tia.

“Tia, welcome,” he said, and Hamish resented that, too. This was his house. He was to be the next Earl, to inherit this place. Who the hell did his brother think he was, ‘welcoming’ the future Lady Ashcombe to her own estate?