Chapter Fourteen
Pretending you hadn't just had the most spectacular kiss of your life required acting skills that Sasha simply didn't possess.
Whilst fatigue had finally caught up with her and she had actually slept for once, she'd woken that morning with Victoria's taste still on her lips and the memory of cool fingers threading through her hair, only to find Victoria already gone from the room.
Probably fled at dawn to avoid any awkward morning-after conversations, which was both considerate and deeply frustrating.
So now she was attacking innocent plants with the sort of vicious efficiency usually reserved for enemies of the state and far right politicians.
"Right," Cathy said, appearing at her elbow with a watering can and an amused expression. "What's got you murdering the vegetables this morning?"
"I'm not murdering anything," Sasha protested, though the vine in her hands did look rather the worse for wear. "I'm being thorough."
"Mmm. And would this thoroughness have anything to do with the fact that you've been stealing glances at the morning room window every thirty seconds?"
Sasha felt heat flood her cheeks. "I have not been—"
"Victoria's in the library today, by the way. Different windows entirely."
"I wasn't looking for Victoria."
"Course not." Cathy's grin was absolutely wicked. "Just making conversation about window locations. Very practical information for garden planning."
Sasha groaned and abandoned the massacred plant. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to anyone with functioning eyeballs." Cathy handed her the watering can. "Though I have to say, your timing's interesting."
"How so?"
"Well, there's nothing quite like wanting something you can't have to make you realize how much you actually want it." Cathy's voice was carefully casual, but there was something underneath it, something that made Sasha look at her more closely.
"Speaking from experience?"
"Might be." Cathy moved to the next row of plants, her movements suddenly less fluid. "Sometimes you spend so long watching someone that you forget they might be worth fighting for."
Sasha followed her, sensing deeper waters. "And what do you do when fighting for them might complicate everything?"
"Depends how much you want them, doesn't it?" Cathy paused, her hands stilling on a tomato vine. "Some things are worth a bit of complication."
"And some things are worth waiting for?"
"Are they?" Cathy's laugh was slightly bitter. "Because I've been waiting for longer than I remember, and all it's gotten me is front-row seats to watch him parade inappropriate women through here like he's auditioning for some sort of twisted television show."
Sasha felt something click into place. "Cathy…"
"Don't." Cathy's voice was sharp. "Don't give me advice about following my heart or taking chances or any of that romantic rubbish.
Some of us live in the real world, where the son of the house doesn't suddenly notice the gardener's daughter just because she's been quietly in love with him since she was eleven. "
"But what if he did notice but just didn’t notice that he noticed, if that makes sense? What if he just needs someone to point him in the right direction?"
"He'd have noticed by now." Cathy straightened, brushing soil from her hands with sharp, efficient movements. "Archie Sullivan sees exactly what he wants to see, and that's never going to be me."
"You don't know that."
"Don't I?" Cathy gestured toward the house, where Archie was presumably already planning his next romantic disaster, Georgina having left before dinner the preceding evening. "He'll have a replacement for Georgina by teatime. Probably someone even more spectacularly unsuitable."
Sasha watched Cathy's face. "Maybe the problem isn't that he doesn't see you. Maybe the problem is that he doesn't see himself clearly enough to know what he actually wants."
"Right. And maybe one day we’ll all get a happy ending." But Cathy's voice had lost some of its bite.
"Look, I'm not saying charge in there and declare undying love over the breakfast kippers. But maybe… maybe it's time to stop being invisible."
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one whose entire livelihood depends on maintaining proper boundaries."
"No, I'm just the one whose entire fake relationship depends on not snogging her fake boyfriend's sister." The words slipped out before Sasha could stop them.
Cathy went very still. "Ah."
"Forget I said that."
"Rather difficult to forget, given that you've just confirmed what everyone's been wondering about." Cathy's expression was carefully neutral. "Though I have to say, Victoria's been looking rather distracted lately."
"Has she?" Sasha tried to sound casual and failed spectacularly.
"Mmm. Unusual for her, too. We all rather thought that she’d end up a spinster, married to her job, you know how it is."
Heat pooled in Sasha's stomach the second she thought about Victoria, about their kiss, about the way their bodies had pressed together, about what might have happened if Ambrose hadn't interrupted, about…
She coughed. "Right," she managed. "Right. Well. That's… interesting."
"Quite." Cathy was clearly enjoying herself now. "Though I suppose the question is what are you planning on doing?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." The lie tasted strange on her tongue.
"Because that's working out so well for both of us, isn't it?" Cathy's smile was knowing. "Two women, both afraid to go after what they want."
Before Sasha could formulate a response, Davies appeared at the edge of the garden, moving with his usual diplomatic efficiency.
"Miss Fox? Lady Charlotte wondered if you’d be joining the family for lunch."
Christ, she’d forgotten the time out here in the sun. She glanced down at herself, noting the liberal coating of soil and the slight sheen of sweat from working in the morning heat. "Right. I should probably make myself presentable."
"Might want to hurry," Cathy added. "You can throw those clothes in the house wash, you know. Though Mrs. Henderson's been complaining about all the extra washing lately. Something about garden clothes and mysterious animal hair everywhere."
"Animal hair?"
"Mmm. Young Sophie's clothes are covered in the stuff, according to Mrs. Henderson. Very peculiar for someone who claims to be studying all the time."
Sasha felt something stir in the back of her mind. Sophie's secretive behavior, the food she'd been sneaking, the constant sneezing that made Lady Alexandra suspect she was allergic to her own grandchildren…
"Has anyone actually seen what Sophie's been up to?"
"Not as such. She's very good at disappearing." Cathy's expression was thoughtful. "Though I did catch her coming out of the old stable block yesterday morning. Strange place to study. Soph lives in a little world all of her own."
The pieces were starting to form a picture, though Sasha wasn't quite ready to voice her suspicions yet. "Alright. Well. I should go clean up."
"Should you indeed." Cathy's grin was back. "Give Victoria my regards."
FIVE MINUTES LATER, Sasha was climbing the stairs to Victoria's room, her hair damp from a quick rinse at one of the outhouse sinks and her skin still tingling from the cool water.
And all she could think about was that kiss.
It stayed in her mind like some sort of mental tattoo, completely indelible.
The bedroom door was ajar, and she could hear movement inside. Victoria was probably getting ready for lunch, too.
Except when she got inside, Victoria was standing with her back to the door, reaching up to adjust something on the dressing table, and the movement pulled her shirt taut across her shoulders in a way that made Sasha's mouth go dry.
The bright light streaming through the windows caught the curve of her neck, the elegant line of her spine visible through the thin cotton.
And Sasha could barely breathe, could barely think until she found herself moving forward without conscious decision, drawn by an impulse she couldn't name. Victoria must have heard her footsteps because she started to turn, but Sasha was already there, already reaching out.
Her finger traced a slow line down Victoria's spine, following the delicate ridge of bone through the soft fabric. Victoria went absolutely still under her touch, a sharp intake of breath the only sound in the quiet room.
"Sasha." Victoria's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Sorry," Sasha murmured, though she wasn't sorry at all. Victoria's skin was warm under the thin cotton, and she could feel the slight shiver that ran through her at the contact. "Couldn't help myself."
Victoria turned slowly, and Sasha found herself looking into dark eyes that were dilated with something that definitely wasn't anger.
They were standing close enough that Sasha could catch her scent, expensive and floral, and it made her want to press closer, to bury her face in the curve of Victoria's neck and taste the salt of her skin.
"We shouldn't," Victoria said, but she didn't step away.
"Probably not," Sasha agreed, letting her hand drop to Victoria's waist. The cotton was soft under her palm, and she could feel the warmth of Victoria's body through it.
They stood there for a moment, suspended in the space between intention and action, both knowing they were balanced on the edge of something that would change everything. Sasha could see the pulse jumping in Victoria's throat, could feel the slight tremor in her breathing.
It would be so easy to close the distance between them, to press Victoria back against the dressing table and kiss her until they both forgot why this was supposed to be impossible.
Instead, Sasha stepped back.
"Right," she said, stepping back with an effort that felt like pulling against gravity. "I should… get ready for lunch."
She fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind her with hands that shook slightly. Through the thin wood, she could hear Victoria moving around the room, the soft sounds of someone trying very hard to appear normal.
Sasha leaned against the bathroom door and wondered how long she could hide in here before someone came looking for her, and whether Victoria would still be in the room when she finally emerged.
Because the truth was, she was rapidly running out of willpower to keep pretending she didn't want exactly what she couldn't have.