Chapter 37
37
I should tell her.
I was going to tell her. At dinner. And then after dinner. And then when we got home.
But she was so excited, talking about Dublin. And then she brought up New York while we were eating ice cream, like she was trying to ask if I would ever consider living there. And then, in my bedroom, she shared something I doubt she’d told many people. That led to several rounds of sex.
Nowhere between any of those moments could I find a good moment to tell Lili that my dad lost all his money and left me with a title, property, and debt.
She’s leaving tomorrow, and I have no idea when I’ll see her again.
How do people do this?
My entire life, my relationships with women have been easy. Straightforward. I’ve known exactly what I wanted from them, and I knew exactly what they wanted from me.
Then, I met Lili, and there was no playbook.
It took three introductions for her to even acknowledge we’d met. I’m rarely prepared around her, usually impulsive, and it’s all with the intended outcome of just spending more time around her. Because no matter how long, it never feels like long enough.
I’m not sure what she wants from me. If she wants anything from me.
No matter how much she opens up, it always feels like she’s holding back. She could have just asked me last night if I’d ever consider moving to New York. Then, we could have had the conversation we’d both been avoiding.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Elizabeth Kensington?”
Blythe flounces into the dining room, fully dressed. I check the time on my watch, shocked she’s up this early.
“I’m not.”
She rolls her eyes before taking the seat two down from the head of the table. “Ada texted Zara, saying you had dinner with a woman at Buckleby Inn last night. Then, you showed up here with her— holding hands —and she spent the night in your room. I doubt you two were discussing Parliament reforms. That all sounds like dating to me.”
Blythe grabs a scone off the table, slathers it with raspberry jam, then stares at me expectantly.
“I’m not dating her,” I repeat.
“You should,” Blythe tells me. “I mean, get in line because she’s basically New York’s It girl, but she must like you a little if she came all the way to Buckleby .”
“Drop it, Blythe. I don’t ask about your … blokes.”
My sister smirks. “Do you want to hear about my Spanish lover? I met him in?—”
“I don’t ,” I say hastily.
“She’s a billionaire. If you married her, we’d have plenty of money.”
My throat draws tight, like an invisible fist is squeezing it, as Blythe casually mentions my biggest fear.
Lili ended things with her last boyfriend—a guy she’d known for decades and was with for two years—because she thought he’d never be able to see past her money.
And here I am, in desperate need of it.
That’s why I haven’t told her the entire truth about the dukedom. Not just because it’s embarrassing or because I haven’t settled on a solution.
Because I’m worried she’ll second-guess my feelings for her. Especially if she finds out I was at Kensington Consolidated, looking for an investment they didn’t make. If you focus on the facts, it doesn’t look great, more like I’m scrounging around. I already told her I’d anticipated having an arranged marriage, likely with a woman who coveted a title. I just left out what I needed to gain from it.
“I told you, I’m taking care of it, Blythe.”
She nods, not asking more questions for once. Or pointing out that I told her I’d take care of it, but I haven’t actually taken care of it.
My meeting in London is with Louis Haywood. He visited Newcastle last week to discuss the deal on the table with the company Asher had put me in touch with. I finally told someone the truth about why I needed to sell.
Louis was surprised, but not shocked.
He had known my father well. As well as anyone could. He admitted to knowing about some of the problems, but he had no idea the extent. He agreed this deal was the best solution, which was reassuring.
Not that I have another option.
It’s a best-case scenario in so many ways, but I can’t shake the feeling of failure. Auctioning off pieces of businesses that have been fully owned by my family for generations isn’t a success to celebrate.
“Good morning!” Lili appears, entering the dining room, wearing a sundress and a wide smile.
“Morning,” Blythe chirps.
“For you.” Lili sets some folded fabric down in front of my sister. “My shirt from last night. Conrad already had it washed. And I added a dress I thought might look cute on you. If you don’t like it, just— oof .”
Blythe has catapulted out of her seat to hug Lili.
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” Lili replies.
She looks surprised when Blythe lets go, and I get a glimpse of her expression.
Not what I expected to see. Lili comes from an affectionate, loving family and has a close friend group that bickers like siblings.
Blythe’s reaction is less surprising to me. Not only does she adore anything related to fashion, but she’s lacking any female role models. No mom, no aunts, no sisters. She has her friends—and Gran, I suppose—but that’s it.
Still, I’m taken aback when Blythe sits back down. She’s already finished everything on her plate, which is usually when she takes off from the few meals we eat together.
I usually eat breakfast alone—looking out at the gardens—before eventually heading up to my study to start on the day’s pile of paperwork.
“Your mom founded rouge, right?” Blythe asks eagerly as Lili heads for the chair opposite her.
I stand to pull it out for her. Lili curtsies when she reaches it, and I roll my eyes. Blythe’s eyes bounce between us, as if she’s making more assumptions.
“Yeah, she did,” Lili answers, reaching for one of the scones set on the table.
Martha, our cook and Conrad’s wife, bakes them fresh most mornings.
“That is so cool.” Blythe is basically vibrating in her chair. “Do you get to wear any of the clothes you want? Do you get to see all the designs in advance?”
“I can make requests,” Lili says. “There are usually extra samples. And Mom had sketches all over the house when I was living at home. So, yeah, I see them. Unless it’s for something special. My best friend, Chloe, got married in July, and my mom designed the bridesmaid dresses. She and Chloe were the only ones who saw it ahead of time. That one I tried really hard to sneak a look at.”
“Does she design anything you want her to? Like, when you get married, are you going to have her design your wedding dress?”
I cut a sharp glance at Blythe, but she’s not looking at me. She’s not thinking about me marrying Lili, and it causes this sharp pinch in my chest as I picture Lili walking down the aisle in a white gown toward some faceless man.
“Oh. Uh …” Lili’s cheeks flush. “I always thought I’d wear my mom’s dress actually. Not that I’m, uh, getting married anytime soon. Plenty of time to decide.”
“Vintage can be really chic,” Blythe says. She’s trying to act nonchalant, but there’s a noticeable lack of bubbliness all of a sudden.
I don’t know what happened to our mom’s wedding dress, and I’m certain Blythe wouldn’t want to wear it even if it were located. The rest of her life will be filled with these little realizations—reminders of what a mother-daughter relationship should look like—and I wish I had said some things to Georgia last time I saw her rather than walking away with my mouth shut.
“Are you studying fashion in college?” Lili asks, and it seems like she’s steering the conversation away from moms on purpose. Like she’s realized what dimmed Blythe’s enthusiasm.
Another pinch.
“Yeah. I just have one year left. Then, I’m hoping to work as a buyer. Or maybe intern at a fashion house.”
“I know rouge has an internship program. If you’re interested, I can have someone there send you more information about it. My friend Collins worked there for a year after we graduated. I’m sure she’d love to talk to you about it.”
“Really?” Blythe looks thrilled. “That would be amazing . I’ve never been to New York. Working there would be a dream.”
Lili smiles. Glances at me. “Are you sure you two are related?”
“Funny,” I tell her, reaching for another scone.
“We look exactly alike,” Blythe says, taking Lili’s comment literally. “Everyone says so.”
Lili laughs. “Yeah, you do. I just meant … because Charlie hates New York.”
“I don’t hate New York,” I argue.
“Dislike then. It’s fine. You’re a country boy at heart.”
Blythe snorts. “Charlie likes London. He’d go out all the time there. He’s just staying here because he thinks it’s what Papa would have wanted.”
I exhale as I heap clotted cream on my scone, avoiding looking at Lili. “It’s more complicated than that, Blythe.”
“I know.”
She’s not placating me—for once. Ever since she discovered the details about what Papa left us with, she’s been more subdued. Stopped teasing me about hardly ever leaving this place. She hasn’t come home with armfuls of shopping bags.
I’m conflicted on how to feel about it. I’m grateful that she’s becoming more responsible. But it also breaks my heart a little bit—because I wasn’t able to protect her from it. To fix things before they affected her.
Blythe pelts Lili with more questions about New York while I sip on coffee and finish my scone, letting Blythe monopolize Lili’s attention.
This is the smallest this huge room has ever felt.
When Blythe darts upstairs to get something, Lili glances at me. “What time do you have to leave for your meeting?”
I glance at the clock. “In about an hour.”
“I called Chloe. I’m meeting her for brunch.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “I can drop you off on the way.”
Blythe rushes back into the dining room, breathing heavily. “Which bag?” she asks.
I don’t glance over; certain the question isn’t meant for me.
Lili tilts her head, deliberating. “Left one,” she says. “I have the same one in black.”
“Charlie brought it back from New York for me.”
At that, I look over. Blythe is holding up two purses. And one is the bag I brought back. The one I wasn’t sure Blythe ever opened, let alone used.
“Lucky you,” Lili comments. “My brother Kit gave me a candle last Christmas.”
I smile. “The bag was from Georgia, Blythe.”
“That’d be more convincing if all of ‘her’ gifts weren’t hand-delivered by you.”
I have no response to that.
But I don’t need one. My sister is too busy talking to her new best friend.