Chapter 25
Ruby
I can’t believe what my eyes are seeing right now.
Right in the middle of Ophelia’s hallway, Ember and Wren are joined at the hip.
They look comfortable—and definitely not like this is the first time they’ve had their arms around each other.
At my words, they leap apart, like I’ve caught them.
The guilty look in Ember’s eyes sets off all the alarm bells in my head.
Little by little, the missing pieces of the puzzle of the last few weeks are falling into place.
This is why Ember was acting so weird and making such a mystery out of who she was spending time with.
This is why she wasn’t at school, why she lied to her friends and me, why she was on her phone so much, and wouldn’t talk to me, even though we tell each other everything.
This must be the reason for all of that.
Wren must be the reason.
“I can’t believe this,” I gasp. “He’s why you’ve been so weird lately?”
Ember sticks her chin up defiantly. “It’s none of your business.”
I grind my teeth so hard that they grate. Ember’s right, I know that. She isn’t accountable to me, but this is Wren, for fuck’s sake!
“I don’t give a shit who you do what with, so long as they’re a good person.”
“Stop being so judgmental, Ruby!” she retorts furiously.
“Ember…” Wren says imploringly, but she cuts him off with a rude hand gesture.
“I’m so sick of you trying to mother me. I’ve had about enough of it.”
Her harsh words make me jump. “I’m not trying to mother you. I just want—”
“The best for me? My friends’ sisters go out partying with them, but you just lecture me on who I’m allowed to meet, and who I’m not.
You even set rules about who I was allowed to spend time with at Maxton Hall parties and landed me with a babysitter.
Instead of enjoying the time we still have together, you’re completely patronizing me. ”
I feel all the blood drain from my face.
Ember’s never spoken to me like that before.
Something bubbles up inside me, violent and unstoppable.
“Yeah, well I’m sorry that I don’t consider the guy who secretly plied me with alcohol at my first school party, and then took advantage of my drunken state so that he could make out with me, to be good enough for my sister! ”
Ember’s eyes widen. She looks from Wren to me and back again. Then she shakes her head.
“You didn’t,” she says to him, suddenly sounding vulnerable.
Wren shakes his head and nods at the same time. He raises his hands in self-defense. “That was years ago. Back then, I…I’ve apologized to Ruby.”
Ember gasps. “I don’t believe it!”
“I was a bloody idiot, OK? I would never do a thing like that now.”
She snorts disdainfully. “Sure you wouldn’t. And why did you get my sister drunk, may I ask? For fun? So you could pull the same move that you tried on me?”
“What did he try on you?” I ask, taking a vengeful step forward. I’m ready to push Wren out of the way if need be—more than that.
“I will never stop apologizing to you, Ruby. I am truly sorry for what happened back then, but I also truly thought that was in the past. And, Ember”—he looks intensely at my sister—“every word I’ve ever said to you was from the heart. I hope you know that.”
Ember looks at him for what feels like a minute. “I don’t know anything anymore, Wren.”
As I’m asking myself exactly what Wren might have said to my sister, Ember turns and runs down the hall, back outside without another glance at him. My stomach suddenly lurches, and I wonder if I might have just made a terrible mistake.
“You hurt her,” Wren says suddenly.
I snap my head back around and glare at him. “No, you did that all by yourself, trust me. What the hell did you do to her?”
“I didn’t do a thing. Ember and I had moved on—and she’s entirely correct. It’s none of your fucking business. Stop trying to control things that have nothing to do with you.”
“I wanted to protect her!” I shout back. “If you had anyone who means as much to you as she does to me, you’d know what that feels like.”
Wren opens his mouth to reply, but someone cuts in first.
“Guys!” I whirl around and see Alistair standing in the hallway. His face is pale, and his curly hair is standing on end. “I appreciate that you’re rather busy trying to murder each other, but we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands right now.”
“What’s wrong?” Wren asks, taking the words right out of my mouth.
Alistair gulps hard. “Mortimer Beaufort just crashed Lydia’s party.”
James
Seeing Dad here catches me off guard. My eyes flick automatically to Lydia, who is sitting at the table with Lin, laughing herself sick over the cards the girls made. I’m desperate to stop her from spotting Dad. I want today to remain a happy memory for her.
Unfortunately, he walked straight round to the garden without ringing the doorbell. The moment Lydia catches sight of him, my heart sinks down to my boots. Her laughter stops abruptly, and in just a few seconds, all the color has drained from her face.
But just as I’m about to set off toward her, I see Graham crossing the lawn to Dad. He stops in front of him. “You have no right to be here,” he says, his tone hard.
Dad raises a mocking eyebrow. “And you have no right to speak to me like that,” he replies coolly.
“This is our party. And I don’t recall you being invited. You are not going to ruin this day for Lydia,” Graham says firmly. He looks like he’s on the verge of grabbing my father and personally escorting him out of the garden.
A tingle on the back of my neck makes me turn to Lydia. She is staring wide-eyed at Dad and Graham, and then her eyes meet mine.
Do something, they say silently. Please.
Without thinking, I put down the plate I’d just loaded up at the buffet and walk over to my father.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Dad takes his time looking around, taking in the balloons, the peonies on the long garden table, the finger painted tortoises, and, finally, the buffet. A mocking smile appears on his face that sends my pulse soaring.
“I’m here to speak to you,” he says, so softly that we’re the only people to hear it, even though the garden has gone deathly quiet. It’s like everyone’s holding their breath, waiting to see what’s going to happen next. “You aren’t answering my emails.”
“What makes you think I want to talk to you?” I ask coolly.
Something flickers in his ice-cold eyes, something I know only too well. It’s the unbridled rage that prompted him to raise his hand to me every time it happened. I promised myself that I’d never hit anybody again—but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to defend myself if he tries it.
“Come with me. Graham’s right. You’re not ruining Lydia’s day,” I say, nodding toward the house. I turn and walk away, not looking back to see whether he’s following me. From the corner of my eye, I see Ophelia stand up and come toward us.
“Mortimer,” she says just as we’re about to step through the conservatory doors. “Did you really have to come here today, of all days?”
Dad doesn’t deign to look at her. “This is between me and my son,” he says, walking past her into the house. “Keep out of it.”
“You made it my business when you brought your daughter to me,” Ophelia replies. Her tone is as cold as ice. I’ve never heard her speak like this before.
I see Dad’s shoulders tense. Slowly, he turns to Ophelia.
At this precise moment, Ruby, Wren, and Alistair walk into the conservatory. They stop dead, their faces anxious as they clock how edgy the mood is.
“It’s OK, Ophelia,” I say.
I have to do whatever it takes to get Dad out of here ASAP, without him getting too close to either Lydia or Ruby. I’d never forgive myself for that.
“Let’s go into the dining room,” I suggest.
Dad follows as I walk out. I shut the dining room door behind us and then slowly turn to face him. I’ve spent the last few weeks being so open with my emotions that he must be able to read every one of my feelings on my face.
“What can possibly be so important that you have to turn up in the middle of Lydia’s baby shower?” I ask, trying to keep my voice moderately calm.
“I didn’t know people celebrated schoolgirls getting pregnant these days. Besides which, nobody informs me about what Lydia does in her free time.”
“Like you’d have come if she had invited you.”
Unlike mine, Dad’s mask is perfectly in place; his face is blank. I realize that I’m not getting an answer to my little jibe—he’s always been like that if he thinks a thing is beneath him.
“What do you want, Dad?” I ask instead, keeping my voice cool.
He stretches out his arms. It’s a sunny Saturday, and particularly warm for May, but he’s wearing a black suit and tie. He looks—as always—like the perfect businessman.
“I put your flouncing out of the firm down as a piece of childish rebellion,” he begins. “But it’s been over five weeks now.”
“So?” I ask.
The corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly. “I’m starting to wonder when you’re going to understand that you can never sell your shares in Beaufort’s.”
My hackles rise. “My only contractual obligation is to find a suitable partner and introduce them to the board.”
“Do you really think you’ll get a majority vote in favor of selling to Fiona Green?”
My heart sinks. I feel my mouth suddenly dry out as my father seems to look right through me, a knowing expression in his eyes.
However he’s done it, Dad knows I’ve been talking to Fiona. He knows my exact plans. He knows that Fiona’s ideas for the company match up with Mum’s—and at this moment, I feel a terrible premonition.
I gulp hard. “Meaning what?”
“I think you know what I mean.”
I stare at him in disbelief. His words make my hopes of soon freeing myself entirely from Beaufort’s, and of knowing that Mum’s legacy is in safe hands, dissolve into thin air. I can only laugh bitterly. “I should have known.”
“You should have recognized what you were getting yourself into.”
I shake my head and look Dad straight in the eyes. “You really are unbelievable.”