Chapter Twenty-Four
House parties, in Victoria’s opinion, required far too many logistics. Logic, she liked, logistics, on the other hand, should be left to other people. Like party planners, for example. But her mother didn’t believe in party planners.
"Victoria, darling," Lady Charlotte called, clipboard in hand and looking like a general planning a campaign, "could you help me with the music selection? I need someone with a discerning ear."
"Of course," Victoria said, though her discerning ear was currently tuned to the sound of Sasha's laughter drifting in from the terrace, where she was apparently helping Ambrose hang fairy lights with the sort of enthusiasm that suggested she actually enjoyed manual labor.
Which was both charming and deeply problematic for Victoria's concentration.
Through the window, she could see Sasha standing on a stepladder, reaching up to secure lights to the pergola.
Her dress had ridden up slightly, revealing a tantalizing stretch of thigh that made Victoria's mouth go dry.
She was going to develop a permanent crick in her neck from all this sneaky window-watching.
The physical ache of wanting her was becoming ridiculous.
Every glimpse of Sasha laughing with her family, every casual brush of their hands when they passed in hallways, was driving Victoria slowly insane.
And then there were the nights. The nights when they barely slept and when they did, they awoke tangled in a pile of sweaty, slippery limbs.
And every single time she saw Sasha, she had one primary thought. That she'd gotten in deeper than she'd intended. Much, much deeper.
"I was thinking perhaps some light classical for dinner, maybe a few standards afterward," her mother continued, apparently oblivious to Victoria's distraction. "Nothing too modern. Your grandmother still hasn't recovered from that unfortunate incident with the DJ at the Wilcox wedding."
"Right." Victoria forced her attention back to the conversation. "Classical sounds lovely."
"Wonderful. Now, about the seating arrangements.
I'm thinking we put the Ashworths near the windows, they do love a good view, and perhaps the Harrisons closer to the drinks table.
Lord Harrison does get rather chatty when he's had a few, and proximity to refreshments might keep him in good spirits. "
Victoria nodded along, making appropriate noises while her brain continued its unhelpful fixation on the woman currently untangling herself from fairy lights on the terrace.
Even covered in string lights and looking slightly ridiculous, Sasha was gorgeous.
And completely unsuitable. And unlikely to put up with someone who worked twenty hours a day.
And leaving soon anyway, so what was the point in torturing herself?
"The catering should arrive at around noon," Lady Charlotte was saying, ticking items off her list with brisk efficiency. "And the quartet confirmed they'll be here by four."
"Mmm," Victoria agreed, watching Sasha hand Ambrose another string of lights. Their easy camaraderie made something twist in her stomach.
"Though I must say, it's been lovely having extra help with the preparations. Sasha's been absolutely wonderful, so enthusiastic about everything. Such a refreshing change from some of the girls Archie's brought home."
"Yes, she's very helpful," Victoria managed, her voice sounding oddly strained even to her own ears.
"And so naturally suited to life here. It's remarkable how quickly she's taken to everything." Lady Charlotte's tone was carefully casual.
Victoria made a noncommittal sound, not trusting herself to speak.
"Your father mentioned you need to dash off to London tomorrow," her mother continued, her voice taking on a slight edge. "Rather unfortunate timing, with the party and all."
Victoria winced. She'd had that conversation with her father an hour ago, and it had gone about as well as a root canal.
He'd fixed her with that steady look that had been reducing his children to confession since they were small and asked why she was "abandoning ship" when her mother could use help.
"It's unavoidable, I'm afraid. Rather urgent client situation."
"I'm sure it is." Lady Charlotte made a note on her clipboard, her pen scratching against the paper with unnecessary force. "These urgent situations do seem to crop up at the most inconvenient times."
"Work doesn't follow a convenient schedule, unfortunately."
"No, I don't suppose it does." Her mother's smile was diplomatic but strained. "Well, I suppose I'll manage somehow. Thank goodness for Sasha and Ambrose. they've been absolute angels with the setup."
"They have."
"Though I can't help but think you might enjoy the party more than another business meeting. You work so terribly hard, darling. When was the last time you actually enjoyed yourself at a social gathering?"
Victoria couldn't remember. Couldn't remember the last time she'd attended anything social that wasn't directly related to networking or client cultivation. "I enjoy work gatherings."
"Do you? How lovely for you." Lady Charlotte's tone suggested she found this about as believable as Father Christmas.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Victoria escaped to the library, claiming she needed to make important work calls.
Instead, she sat staring at her laptop screen, trying to focus on interview preparation while her brain insisted on replaying every kiss, every touch, every moment when Sasha had looked at her like she was something worth having.
She was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. A grown woman getting distracted by a summer fling while her career hung in the balance.
The Richmond Brothers interview was crucial. Senior Investment Manager, excellent firm, exactly the sort of position she needed. She should be focusing on that, on rebuilding the perfect life that had collapsed around her.
Instead, she was mooning over a woman who saw her as a temporary diversion.
"Victoria? There you are."
She looked up to find Archie in the doorway, looking like a man facing his own execution.
"What's wrong now?" she asked, closing her laptop with perhaps more force than necessary.
"I need advice. Serious, life-or-death advice about the weekend."
"The party?"
"Yes, the bloody party." He began pacing, running his hands through his hair with increasing agitation.
"I need to bring someone, but I can't decide who.
There's Melody, but she might clash with Grandmother's politics.
Sarah's lovely, but she did ask if we had Wi-Fi in the library, which suggests a certain lack of appreciation for traditional values.
That actress from the thing, what's her name, might expect me to know about theater, which I absolutely don't."
Victoria watched her brother's increasingly frantic pacing with weary amusement. At least someone's romantic problems were straightforward.
"Archie, you do realize this isn't a military campaign? It's just a party."
"Just a party?" He stopped mid-pace to stare at her with genuine horror. "You have no idea. The pressure is enormous. What if I choose wrong? What if she doesn't fit in? What if Grandmother disapproves? What if—"
"What if you actually brought someone you enjoy spending time with?" Victoria interrupted. She couldn’t fix her own love life, she had no idea what to do there. But perhaps she could at least help Archie. Not that she could outright tell him what to do, he was stubborn as a mule like that.
"I enjoy spending time with all of them. That's the problem." He slumped into a chair with dramatic flair. "How am I supposed to choose between perfectly acceptable women? It's like some sort of medieval torture."
Victoria studied her brother's genuinely distressed expression and felt the smallest stab of sympathy.
"Well," she said carefully, "perhaps think about who might actually appreciate the evening. Someone who understands what goes into running an estate like this."
"Right, yes. Someone sophisticated. Someone with breeding."
That wasn't exactly what she'd meant, but Victoria pressed on. "Someone who appreciates all the work that goes into making the gardens perfect. The attention to detail."
"Absolutely. Someone with proper taste and education."
Victoria tried a different approach. "Someone who really knows the estate. Who's seen all the effort behind the scenes. Who understands the day-to-day reality of country life."
"Definitely. Someone who appreciates tradition and heritage. Good bloodlines are important."
"Someone who's been working incredibly hard to make sure everything's perfect for tomorrow…" Victoria was running out of ways to hint without being completely obvious. Surely he had to realize she was talking about Cathy?
"Yes! Someone who appreciates quality and proper standards." Archie's face suddenly lit up with inspiration. "Actually, you know what? I think Venetia might be perfect. Lord Paddingham’s daughter. Knows Cassandra, she's very keen on horses too."
Victoria blinked. "Horses?"
"Yes, she's always going on about proper bloodlines and training regimens. Very knowledgeable about quality breeding. And she understands the importance of good stock and careful cultivation."
"That's not… Archie, I wasn't talking about horses."
"No? Well, breeding's important for all sorts of things, isn't it?
Plants, animals, people. The principles are the same.
Careful selection, proper environment, attention to lineage.
" He stood up, looking immensely pleased with himself.
"Venetia it is, then. Thanks, Vic. You're absolutely brilliant at this relationship stuff. "
"Am I?" Victoria asked weakly, watching her brother head for the door with renewed purpose.
"Absolutely. Always know exactly what to say. Very wise about matters of the heart."
He left, presumably to call Venetia and discuss thoroughbred bloodlines, leaving Victoria staring after him in complete disbelief.
She'd been trying to nudge him toward Cathy.
Sweet, competent Cathy, who'd been working her arse off to make the gardens perfect, who clearly had feelings for him, who was right there under his nose being brilliant and devoted and completely invisible to him.
Instead, he'd decided to bring someone who wanted to discuss equestrian genetics.
She was officially rubbish at this.
If she couldn't even give her own brother decent relationship advice when the answer was staring him in the face, what hope did she have of navigating her own increasingly complicated feelings? She clearly had the romantic instincts of a particularly dense houseplant.
Her phone dinged to remind her about tomorrow's interview, as if she needed it. Richmond Brothers. Right. Everything she'd worked toward, everything that would put her life back on track, everything that made sense.
Everything that would take her away from Cornwall. Away from her family's chaos and her father's greenhouse wisdom and her mother's knowing looks. Away from fairy lights on terraces and shared rooms and the woman who made her forget why being perfect had ever seemed important.
Away from Sasha.
Victoria looked out the library window toward the terrace, where preparations continued in the golden afternoon light.
Sasha was now helping Sophie arrange chairs, the two of them laughing about something while Ambrose supervised with theatrical authority.
Even from here, she could see the way Sasha moved, confident and graceful, completely at ease with her family in a way that made Victoria's chest tighten with something dangerously close to longing.
She should be excited about the interview.
This was her chance to rebuild everything that had fallen apart, to prove she wasn't washed up at thirty-one, to reclaim her place in the world that made sense.
Banking made sense. Spreadsheets made sense.
Performance targets and client portfolios and professional advancement, all of that made perfect, logical sense.
So why did the thought of leaving make her feel like she was abandoning something infinitely more precious than any job?
Maybe she was love dyslexic. Maybe she'd spent so long being perfect and controlled and successful that she'd completely lost the ability to recognize what she actually wanted when it was standing right in front of her, laughing in the afternoon sun and making her family smile.
Maybe she was as blind as Archie, only instead of missing the obvious choice right under her nose, she was running away from it as fast as her perfectly polished shoes could carry her.
Victoria picked up her laptop and headed upstairs to pack for London, trying very hard not to think too much.
After all, she'd just proven she was completely useless at understanding matters of the heart. Both her own and everyone else's.
But as she folded clothes into her overnight bag, Victoria couldn't shake the feeling that for the first time in her life, being useless at something might actually matter more than being perfect at everything else.