Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Christine stepped outside into the summer evening. Right away, she smelled the honeysuckle that was rioting up onto the roof of a pergola... and tobacco.
Zek turned at the sound of her skirts swishing, and she saw he was smoking a cigar. A cigar? Zek? Weren’t they only for wealthy people? By all rights, he should have had a pipe. One of those cheap clay ones she saw so many people puffing on in the poorer parts of London.
She only just stopped herself from saying so aloud. What was wrong with her? Did she want more social gaffs to have to apologise for?
Zek’s lips quirked, and she had the awkward feeling that he may have read her mind.
“Miss Starling,” he said in a polite voice. “I’m surprised you would want to spend time with a disreputable person like me. Hurry back inside, quick, before you are contaminated.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “We all have our crosses to bear,” she said, then glared at him when he laughed.
“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or affronted.” He said the words easily, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Christine wanted to stamp her foot. The Zek Nash she had known would have glared at her hatefully or muttered something uncomplimentary and stalked off. The least he could do was be annoyed by her stinging barbs.
No. She had come to apologise for her behaviour, and so she would.
“I wanted to say I am sorry for how I behaved when I first saw you this evening. You surprised me, and I suppose I... I reverted to a past version of myself. I didn’t expect… that is, I wasn’t...”
“Past version? Oh, do you mean when you were a spoilt brat?”
Christine had been babbling, but now she stopped, and her voice turned dangerous. “We were never friends, Zek, so do not pretend we were. You hated me just as much as I hated you.”
“True. Although ‘hate’ is a strong word. I knew you resented us coming to your house every Christmas, despite the fact that we had nowhere else to go. I do remember that. Is it any wonder I behaved likewise?”
Now he sounded angry. Or perhaps, though it seemed unlikely, hurt. Perhaps it was time to draw a line under those awkward memories, walk away, and carry on with her life.
“I was selfish and silly,” she admitted in a voice that strove to be remorseful. “There, I admit it. These days I know better than to blame the poor for their circumstances.”
“How magnanimous of you,” said Zek, then his gaze swept over her and his lip curled. “Though I admit, you are all grown up. A changed woman. I can see that.”
She refused to look away and narrowed her eyes at him. “What did Reeve mean about you being his business partner? How are you a businessman?”
He seemed to consider her questions, then shrugged.
“My uncle finally decided to help us out. He and my father had been estranged for years and he says he did not realise how dire our circumstances were. When I went to stay with him in London, I discovered we got on extremely well together. It was a revelation, one that has been very beneficial for me.”
Christine thought about this. “It is a wonder I have not seen you about in London.”
“It is a big city, and I doubt we move in the same circles. I am not a theatre goer, though I did take my mother to see one of your plays.”
Christine couldn’t hide her surprise. “Oh!” She hoped she wasn’t blushing. Why on earth should it matter to her? It wasn’t as if she was seeking his approval.
“It was the one where you played the minor part. The silly wife who doesn’t realise her husband is a criminal. You died in the second act.”
Of course. It would have to be that play, wouldn’t it?
“My mother enjoyed your performance very much. She now tells everyone that she knows a famous West End actress.”
Christine desperately hoped he would not notice the heat in her face.
Suddenly she felt ashamed of herself all over again.
“It was a rather ridiculous part, I know, but the audience was laughing, which was what mattered for the role. You should have brought your mother to the theatre door,” she added with her best false smile. “I would have come out to greet her.”
Zek huffed a laugh. “So you could embarrass her? I think not.”
Christine waved a languid hand. “I wouldn’t have embarrassed her.
That isn’t professional, and I assure you, I am very professional.
” Yet at the same time she wondered if she might have said something unkind, simply because Zek had been with her.
She hoped not, but if tonight was anything to go by, she might have.
“Christine!” Molly appeared at the door. “We are saying our farewells.”
Relieved to have an excuse to leave, Christine turned away from Zek and went back inside. Soon she was back inside the coach, returning to Starling Hall.
“You didn’t expect to see Zek Nash there, I take it?” Will asked her once they were settled for the short journey home.
Molly leaned forward, concerned. “I’m sorry. We should have warned you.”
Christine pretended to be confused. “Warned me? Why?”
Molly glanced at her husband. “Well, you and Zek never did not get on, as I recall.”
I hated him, and he hated me. But Christine did not say the words aloud. “Did he say that?”
“No, he is too polite, but it was obvious. You glared at him throughout dinner, and he didn’t look too pleased. He’s usually a lot more fun than he was tonight.”
She felt uncomfortable that her feelings had been so obvious, but it was true. They had hated each other, and probably still did.
“He said he brought his mother to see my play,” she admitted.
“Oh?” Molly smiled. “How lovely.” Molly always thought the best of everyone. “You should call on her while you are here. I’m sure she would like that very much.”
“Where do they live?” Surely they weren’t still in that hovel in the village she remembered!
“He bought a house just beyond Barton Lacey. You may remember it. The Lady’s House?”
Christine did indeed remember the Lady’s House.
It was a sprawling place, and had been very run down the last time she had passed it by.
She tried to imagine Zek and his ragged family living there and couldn’t.
It was impossible to think of him as someone comparable with the Starlings of Starling Hall.
“Of course, he has had the place repaired,” Molly went on. “Will and I have been there, and it is lovely.” This was not exactly enlightening. To Molly, everything was ‘lovely.’
“I didn’t realise,” Christine said, her mind far away.
She was remembering an incident in the village when she was a child. She had been walking from the Hall to the village shop, daydreaming about a new bonnet she had seen in the window, when suddenly a wet snowball had struck her on the back. Shocked, she’d spun around, but no one was there.
Puzzled and very uncomfortable, she’d shaken the snow off and began to walk again. But she had only taken a few steps when something else wet and mushy struck her, this time on the back of her head.
This time she caught a glimpse of someone ducking behind some bushes.
By then she had grown angry and very annoyed. She’d marched over to the bush where the culprit was hiding, only for him to stand up before she reached him, laughing in a brazen fashion. It was the hated Zek Nash.
“How dare you?” she’d screeched.
But Zek only doubled over in laughter. He had one of his ragged siblings with him, a little girl, who was clinging to him and giggling as if it were all some wonderful joke.
At a loss of what to do, Christine had snatched up a handful of snow and flung it at him. It had hit him smack in the face. That had stopped his laughter.
But the reprieve only lasted a moment. With a determined expression, Zek began to put together another snowball, far bigger than hers. With a shriek, Christine had turned and ran.
“Throw it! Throw it!” the hateful child next to him had chanted.
She’d heard footsteps pound after her, and a snowball was shoved down the back of her dress, icy cold. She’d wailed in horror and crouched down, shivering and trying to dislodge it, but the snow had begun to melt and was running down inside her clothing.
Behind her, the cruel laughter had stopped. As she huddled there, feeling miserable, the footsteps returned.
“Miss Starling?” Zek had sounded worried, if not apologetic. “Are you hurt?”
She wasn’t, just embarrassed and cold. She stood abruptly and nearly knocked down the little girl, who was bent over, peering into her face. Christine caught her in time, but the child was none too clean, and she hastily removed her hand with a wince.
Zek had seen that. In a flash, his face had changed from concern to anger. “Come on, Izzy,” he’d said in a voice as cold as the snowball. “Let’s not bother the grand lady anymore.”
He’d turned and walked away, as if she was the one at fault when it had been he who had thrown first. She had had the urge to call him back and scold him, but that was just silly. This was his fault, and if his sister was dirty and unwashed, then he should do something about it, shouldn’t he?
The memory was so sharp and clear that she was still pondering it when the carriage arrived home.
It seemed Zek had made good since he’d reconnected with his uncle.
She wondered what his family were like now, and his little sister.
Should she call upon them? His mother would appreciate the visit, she was certain.
Perhaps this was a chance to redeem herself in their eyes, although why she should care about that eluded her.
“Christine!” Nigel came running down the front steps as the carriage came to a stop. He had grown, but he was still her little brother and the youngest Starling sibling. “I missed you!”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve only been gone a few hours.” It seemed silly, but Nigel loved her, so what was there to complain about?
Their parents had retired, so she tucked Nigel back into his bed. His eyes flickered closed, and he was smiling when he fell asleep. She sat with him a while, feeling strangely out of sorts.
Was it because of Zek Nash? Why should seeing him again make her feel like that? He was nothing to her, an unpleasant memory from her past best left forgotten. And yet...
She could have been kinder to him. She could almost hear Abby saying that to her, and certainly Molly would have.
Perhaps she would call, just to prove to him that she was a good person. Or his mother, at least. With any luck, Zek would not be there.