Chapter Twenty-Two
Victoria checked her phone for the twentieth time in as many minutes. Still nothing from Richmond Brothers. They'd said within the week, which meant anywhere from tonight to five days from now, and the waiting was driving her absolutely mad.
She should be working on other applications. Following up with headhunters. Networking. Doing all the things that had always come so naturally before her entire career had disappeared down the drain.
Instead, she was sitting on the terrace like some sort of lovesick teenager, watching Sasha work in the gardens and trying to decode whether that careful distance she'd sensed since yesterday was real or just her imagination running wild.
Because Sasha had definitely been… different. Still warm when they were alone, still responsive when Victoria kissed her, but there was something underneath now. A guardedness that hadn't been there before. Like she was already preparing herself for something inevitable.
Which was fine. Perfectly fine. This had always been temporary anyway. A summer thing, nothing more. Sasha had never pretended otherwise, and Victoria certainly hadn't made any promises.
She told herself this was actually ideal. No messy feelings to navigate, no complicated conversations about the future, no awkward goodbyes. They'd had their fun, and when it was time to leave, they'd part as friends. Easy. Uncomplicated. Exactly what Victoria needed.
So why did her chest feel tight every time Sasha smiled at her with that new, careful distance? Why did she keep checking where Sasha was, what she was doing, whether she was thinking about Victoria too?
This was getting out of hand.
Her phone buzzed and she nearly fumbled it in her haste to check. Just her mother, asking about seating arrangements for the house party. Victoria shoved it back in her pocket with more force than strictly necessary.
"You look like you're contemplating bodily harm."
She looked up to find Lukas standing at the terrace steps, pruning shears in one hand and a slightly amused expression on his face. He was covered in a light dusting of soil and looked annoyingly peaceful.
"Just… work stuff," Victoria said. "Though that’s close enough to contemplating homicide sometimes, I suppose."
"Ah." He settled onto the step beside her with the easy comfort of someone who'd not worked here long enough to know he shouldn’t. "Job anxiety, tell me about it."
"You've no idea."
"Actually, I do." His smile was wry. "I waited three months to hear about this position. Checked my email so often I nearly wore out my phone. Drove my mother absolutely mad with my pacing."
Victoria found herself relaxing slightly. "And was it worth it? The anxiety?"
"The job? Absolutely. Best thing I've ever done." He turned the pruning shears over in his hands, studying them like they held answers. "The anxiety? Less so. Though I've learned that sometimes the things worth having are worth being terrified about."
There was something in his voice, something underneath the casual tone, that made Victoria look at him more carefully. "We're not just talking about jobs anymore, are we?"
"Perhaps not." His ears went slightly pink, which was oddly endearing. "Your brother is… he's remarkable. Kind and funny, and he actually listens when I talk about soil pH levels and planting, which shouldn't be attractive but is."
"You and Ambrose." It wasn't a question. She'd have to be blind not to have noticed the way they looked at each other, the way they found excuses to work together.
"Me and Ambrose." Lukas met her eyes steadily, no apology in his expression. "Though I don't imagine you're shocked. We haven't exactly been subtle."
"Not remotely. He's been staring at you like you hung the moon since we arrived. It's actually been a bit nauseating." Victoria paused, something twisting in her chest. "Does it bother you? The different backgrounds thing? The whole son-of-the-house and head-gardener situation?"
"Should it?"
"I don't know. Shouldn't it?" She heard the edge in her own voice. "The class difference, the money, the expectations. It's not exactly straightforward, is it?"
Lukas was quiet for a moment, watching her with those perceptive eyes.
"Life would be very boring if we only became close to people exactly like us," he said carefully.
"Same background, same income, same education, same everything.
What would be the point of that? Just two people agreeing with each other all the time? "
"Compatibility. Shared values. Understanding each other's worlds."
"Or fear." He stood, brushing soil from his trousers with efficient movements.
"Sometimes I think people use 'compatibility' as an excuse not to risk anything real.
Not to let anyone see them properly. Not to be vulnerable.
" He nodded toward the gardens where Sasha was working with Cathy, both of them laughing about something. "Just something to consider."
He left her sitting there, his words settling uncomfortably somewhere behind her ribs.
Fear. Was that what this was? Was she using logic and practicality as shields against something that terrified her more than redundancy ever had?
Victoria looked at her phone again. Still nothing. She wanted that job. Needed it, really. What was she without her career? Without the structure and purpose and validation that came from being good at something?
But she also wanted… what? Sasha? A relationship that made no practical sense? A summer romance that could never survive contact with real life?
She didn't know anymore, and that uncertainty was perhaps the most frightening thing of all.
WHEN DINNER TIME came around, the atmosphere at the table was strange.
Archie was subdued, the chair next to him at the table empty.
Ambrose was mooning in a way that suggested he and Lukas had definitely had a conversation of their own.
Possibly several conversations, possibly involving significantly more than talking.
And Sasha was being perfectly pleasant while somehow managing to not quite meet Victoria's eyes for longer than absolutely necessary.
"More wine, darling?" her mother asked, and Victoria realized her glass was somehow empty. When had she drunk all that?
"Please."
"Are you feeling alright?" Lady Charlotte's gaze was shrewd. "You seem distracted."
"Just tired. Work stress." The lie came automatically, smoothly honed by practice.
"Mmm." Her mother didn't look convinced but didn’t push. "Well, don't overdo it, dear. Even you need rest occasionally."
Sophie was picking at her food, pushing vegetables around her plate without actually eating anything. Not unusual for a fifteen-year-old, but there were fresh scratches on her arms that definitely were unusual. Long, parallel lines that looked suspiciously like…
"Sophie, what happened to your arms?" Lady Charlotte had noticed too, her maternal radar apparently more functional than Victoria's.
"Nothing. Just… gardening accident." Sophie pulled her sleeves down quickly, but not before Victoria got a good look. Those were definitely not plant scratches. "Thorns. From the roses."
"Those don't look like thorn scratches," their father observed. "Too uniform. Too parallel."
"Well they are." Sophie's voice went up half an octave, defensive. "Can we please talk about something else? Like literally anything else?"
Lady Alexandra sneezed delicately into her napkin. Then again. Then a third time with increasing violence.
"Bless you, Mama," Lady Charlotte said.
"Thank you. I can't imagine what's causing this." Lady Alexandra dabbed at her nose. "It's been going on all week."
Sophie went very still, her face carefully blank in a way that screamed guilt to anyone paying attention.
Victoria should investigate. Should figure out what her baby sister was hiding, what was causing those scratches and grandmother's mysterious sneezing fits. Under normal circumstances, she would have. She'd have cornered Sophie after dinner and extracted the truth with ruthless efficiency.
But Sasha was laughing at something Ambrose had said, and Victoria's brain was too busy cataloging the exact curve of her smile to properly focus on family mysteries.
She needed to get a grip. This was getting absolutely ridiculous. She was thirty-one years old, not some hormonal teenager who couldn't concentrate because of a pretty girl.
Except Sasha wasn't just pretty. She was funny and kind and enthusiastic about things in a way that made Victoria want to be enthusiastic too. She made Victoria forget why she'd ever thought being perfect was important.
And that was frightening.
When dinner finally ended and people began dispersing, Victoria waited until Sasha passed her chair, then caught her arm.
"Study," she murmured, low enough that only Sasha could hear. "Two minutes."
Sasha's eyes went dark, her breath catching slightly. "Victoria…"
"Please."
The study was blessedly empty, books lining the walls and the scent of old paper and leather filling the air.
The moment the door closed behind them, Victoria had Sasha pressed against it, kissing her with the sort of desperate intensity that probably said far too much about her current mental state.
Sasha's response was immediate and gratifying, hands clutching at Victoria's dress, pulling her closer with a small sound that went straight to Victoria's core.
This, at least, hadn't changed. This still felt exactly right, still made her brain shut off and her body light up like someone had flipped a switch.
"I missed you," Sasha murmured against her mouth when they finally broke apart enough to breathe.
"I was at breakfast this morning. We sat across from each other."
"Still too long." Sasha's fingers traced patterns on Victoria's hip through the thin fabric of her dress, and Victoria had to resist the urge to lock the door and forget about propriety entirely. "Though I suppose I'd better get used to it."
Something cold settled in Victoria's stomach, spreading outward like ice. "Get used to what?"
"Missing you. When you go back to London." Sasha's smile was careful, practiced, like she'd been rehearsing it. "This is just a summer thing, right? No expectations. No complications. Just… fun while it lasts."
Victoria should have been relieved. This was exactly what she'd wanted, wasn't it?
What she'd told herself from the beginning.
No messy feelings to navigate, no difficult conversations about impossible futures, no having to choose between her career and a relationship that could never work long-term anyway.
So why did she feel like someone had just hollowed out her chest with a spoon?
"Right," she heard herself say, her voice sounding distant. "Just a summer thing."
"Exactly." Sasha kissed her again, but there was something final about it. Something that tasted like goodbye, even though they still had days left. "No sense making it complicated when we both knew how this would end."
"No sense at all." Victoria's phone buzzed in her pocket, but for once she ignored it. "Sasha—"
"I should go." Sasha was already pulling away, straightening her clothes with hands that trembled slightly despite her casual tone. "Ambrose wanted to practice his coming-out speech on me before the house party. Moral support and all that. Apparently he's terrified he'll forget how to speak."
"Of course." Victoria stepped back, giving her space, giving them both space to breathe.
Sasha paused at the door, her hand on the brass handle, looking back with an expression Victoria couldn't quite read. Something sad and resigned and achingly tender all at once.
Then she was gone, leaving Victoria standing alone in the empty study.