“The people reading it won’t know that, though, will they?” To my horror, I could feel tears burning behind my eyes. I blamed the brandy, and swore to myself that I absolutely was not going to cry in front of this man.
“They don’t matter,” Edward said and, ever so gently, kissed the top of my head. “They really don’t.”
“Easy for you to say.” I gave a watery chuckle. “All anyone ever says about you is how truthful you are, how factual, how honest. It’s the people you write about…”
“People like your family.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t be doing this if Nathaniel hadn’t asked. I… Well, he helped me out, a long time ago, and I owe him, I guess. But it’s up to him what he wants to include. I won’t… I’m not trying to ruin your family, or anything.”
“I know that.” And strangely, I did. I barely knew this man – mostly because he’d been keeping his true identity a secret from me and almost everyone I cared about until today – but I knew that, lies aside, he didn’t want to hurt us. Whatever his initial response to me returning to Rosewood, I got the feeling that Edward might even be on my side.
It was nice to think so, anyway.
“Good. I wouldn’t want you to think…” He sighed. “God knows why, but I’d hate for you to think badly of me.”
I looked up at him in surprise. “I don’t.”
Edward started down into my eyes. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, his voice low and warm.
And then, out of nowhere, he kissed me.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pulling away. “I shouldn’t…”
But he should. He really, really should.
I slid a hand up his chest to the back of his neck and held his mouth against mine, just long enough to let him know that I really wasn’t objecting to his kisses. His mouth felt cool in the sultry summer night air, and the sheer quantity of alcohol consumed certainly hadn’t affected his kissing ability.
“You’re sure?” he asked, and I just kissed him again. This was where I wanted to be – here in this moment, away from the rest of the family, from the party, from reality. With Edward.
Long, clever fingers methodically unfastened the row of tiny buttons at the back of my dress, running all the way up my spine. The fabric fell away, and I arched my back as his fingers ran across it, my nerve endings shivering.
God, I wanted this man. I wanted the oblivion of a night in his arms. I wanted the freedom, the closeness, the acceptance. And then in the morning…
The thought was a bottle of cold champagne poured over my head.
In the morning, I’d be leaving Rosewood again. Going home to Perth. To Duncan.
I’d be running away from another ill-advised liaison, straight back to the man I’d spent days telling everyone was my boyfriend. And even if he wasn’t, I couldn’t deny that he was something to me. I owed him more than this.
If I wanted to start putting my life in order, become the Saskia who could come home to Rosewood with my head held high, it had to start here.
Not to mention the small fact that, very soon, this man would be writing my life story in my grandfather’s memoirs.
Edward’s fingers stopped stroking my skin, and he pulled back a little. This time, I let him go. “What changed?” he asked.
I swallowed, looking up into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He gave a small nod, then got to his feet, moving around me and pulling me up too. “You’re leaving tomorrow,” he said, as he began to fasten up the dozens of ridiculously small buttons on my dress again. “This is bad timing.”
“Yes,” I said. I wanted to explain more, but the words were gone. All I knew was that, for all it felt incredibly right to be kissing him, this wasn’t how I wanted it to be. Not secretly, hiding away in an attic from the rest of my family, cheating on my not-really-a-boyfriend. Edward deserved more than this.
Hell, I deserved more than this.
“I should go to bed.” My voice was too loud, and I spun round to face him too fast, my head buzzing.
“Yeah.” Edward’s chin dropped to his chest. “I’ll just…wait it out up here, I think.”
I nodded mechanically. “I’ll…see you tomorrow. Before I go.”
I was out the door before he had a chance to respond.
I stumbled along the corridor, down the stairs to the first floor, then slammed to a halt when I heard the voices, almost too late to avoid being seen.
“You’re selling our secrets!” Isabelle shrieked, and I pressed myself closer to the wall by the stairs. “Sharing our private moments with the world, and why? Because you can’t come up with your own stories any longer?”
“This is an important project, Isabelle,” Nathaniel replied, his voice a low growl. “It matters to me.”
“And what about me? It’s my history too, remember.” They came into view as Nathaniel approached his study door, just a couple of metres away past my hiding place. Isabelle trailed behind him, still talking. “You promised me, Nathaniel. You swore you’d never—”
“It’s a biography! Of course I need to tell our history, that’s the whole point.” He swung round to face her, his back to me. They were both still dressed in their Golden Wedding outfits, same as me – although I suspected my dress might be rather more rumpled after my moment in the attic with Edward. I tried to straighten it without drawing attention to myself. The last thing I needed was my grandparents catching me sneaking out after snogging Nathaniel’s biographer in the attic. Everyone at Rosewood already thought badly enough of my romantic choices.
“You already made a fiction of our courtship,” Isabelle said, desperation in her voice. “Why do this? Why turn our whole marriage, our lives together into nothing more than a story?”
Nathaniel shook his head. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. But you’ll see, when you read it.”
Isabelle’s face turned hard. “So, you’re doing this. Even though your whole family thinks it’s a bad idea.”
“I’m doing this because it matters. I want our story told, the way it should be – not the way some stranger would write it once I’m dead.” He turned away from her and I saw the determination in his eyes. He strode towards me, and I shrunk back further into the shadows – but he didn’t even glance in my direction as he passed. Instead, he threw open his study door and walked through, ignoring Isabelle’s wail behind him.
“I hate you, Nathaniel Drury!” she yelled, as he slammed the door behind him. Then she spun on her heel and stormed off back down the corridor to her rooms.
I stood, silent and still for a long moment, until I was sure the coast was clear. Breathing too fast, I picked up my shoes and ran barefoot towards the Yellow Room, very afraid that Nathaniel’s memoirs might tear apart my family more irreparably than even I’d managed.
Chapter Six
The morning after a raid was always quiet – a hush over the village as we all lay low, waiting to be outed. Waiting to be caught. Caught and taken away for ever.
Rebecca’s Daughters, by Nathaniel Drury (1998)
My train left from Chester at four-thirty the following afternoon, and it was after eleven before I even woke up. Rather than go looking for any party survivors, I decided that a shower and packing were the order of the day.
I was still trying to figure out why I’d brought six pairs of shoes for the week, and only worn one, when Ellie appeared in the doorway. But instead of looking tired and pale as she had most of the time I’d been home, there was colour in her cheeks and fire in her eyes – just like the morning in the Orangery.
“When are you leaving?” she asked, her stare hard as she stood in the doorway. Was she just here to check that I really was going again? I wasn’t sure.
“The taxi’s coming at four o’clock,” I answered, as mildly as I could. Whatever she thought or felt, I wasn’t here for confrontation. I folded one of Therese’s dresses neatly and put it to one side on the bed. I was going to miss the extended wardrobe, when I got back to Scotland.
&n
bsp; Ellie nodded, but somehow gave me the impression that she wasn’t taking anything in. She wasn’t good at confrontation – never had been. She got too upset, usually. There was a reason I’d been able to just leave the minute the wedding was done and never have an actual argument with her in the two years since. I’d told Nathaniel I needed to go and, by the time Ellie came home from her honeymoon with Greg, I had a new job, a new flat, a new life up in Perth. My grandfather had friends everywhere and knew exactly which strings to pull.
Ellie fiddled with the empty glass perfume bottles on the dressing table, holding them up in the sunlight to watch them reflect. I carried on packing, and waited for her to speak again. One thing my many conversations with Edward had made clear to me – Ellie needed to figure things out in her own time. Hopefully my visit had convinced her that I had no despicable designs on her husband, and that I was willing to make amends, whenever she was ready. Maybe now she could work towards forgiving me. Maybe.
“Are you going to speak to him before you go?” Ellie asked suddenly, and for a dreadful moment the anger in her voice convinced me that she meant Greg.
“I’m sorry?” I paused in packing a pink top that had gone from suitcase to wardrobe and back again, and looked up at my sister.
“Edward,” she clarified, staring me down. “I saw you two disappear into the house together last night. And then you were both still missing when the party ended… I can put two and two together, Kia. Especially now I know what I’m looking for.”
“We didn’t… It’s not what you think, El.” I stumbled over the words, determined to get my truth out. Edward was Ellie’s confidant, her friend. It was important she know what really happened.