Chapter Twenty-Seven
The kitten surveyed the assembled crowd with the sort of regal disdain usually reserved for actual royalty. He took another delicate step down the marble staircase, his tiny pink tongue poking out slightly as he concentrated on not tumbling to his death.
"How charming," Lady Alexandra said, though her voice suggested she found it anything but. "A stray cat. In the house."
Victoria watched in fascination as the first cat was joined by a second kitten, this one ginger and moving with significantly less dignity.
Then a third. A fourth. What had started as a single adorable intruder was rapidly becoming a full-scale feline invasion.
A practical avalanche of cats. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together and realize that Sophie had to have something to do with this.
Her grandmother sneezed.
"Oh my," breathed Mrs. Pemberton-Smythe. "There are so many of them."
Sophie appeared at the top of the stairs looking like she'd rather be anywhere else in the world. Possibly on Mars. Her face had gone the particular shade of green that suggested imminent vomit or complete nervous breakdown.
"Sophie, darling," Lady Charlotte called up sweetly, "do you know anything about these… visitors?"
"They're not mine," Sophie said quickly. Too quickly. "I mean, technically they’re sort of temporarily mine, I suppose. But legally, I’m not at all sure they’re mine. They’re foundlings, you see, and…"
A fifth kitten chose that moment to emerge from behind Sophie's legs.
The guests began making cooing noises and reaching for kittens, which was apparently the signal for complete chaos.
What followed was like watching a very expensive, very drunk version of a children's television show.
Lord Ashworth lunged for a tabby and nearly took out Lady Pemberton-Smythe.
Mrs. Harrison cornered a ginger kitten behind a suit of armor only to have it escape when she bent over to pick it up.
Victoria found herself diving under a side table to retrieve a black kitten that had somehow climbed the inside of a tablecloth. "Got you," she muttered, emerging with rather more satisfaction than she might have expected.
"Having fun?" Sasha appeared beside her, expertly scooping up two kittens at once like she'd been doing this her entire life.
"Loads," Victoria said dryly, trying to extract tiny claws from her silk dress. "Nothing says sophisticated house party like cats army-crawling under furniture."
"Could be worse. At least we're not chasing them through the dining room."
As if summoned by her words, a crash echoed from the dining room, followed by creative cursing and the sound of breaking china.
"I spoke too soon," Sasha winced.
They worked their way through the chaos, collecting kittens with increasing efficiency while the guests either helped or hindered depending on their level of sobriety.
Victoria was beginning to develop real respect for Sophie's organizational skills.
Keeping eight kittens secret for this long was actually quite impressive.
"This is actually brilliant," Ambrose appeared beside them, slightly out of breath and holding a particularly squirmy kitten. "Complete distraction from any awkward family conversations I might need to have."
"About that," Victoria said, catching another escapee. "I hope you drank that water, because if there’s anything grandmama likes less than lack of punctuality, it’s a drunk."
"You didn’t rate homosexuality on that scale," Ambrose said glumly. "But I drank the water. And I’m definitely more sober. Which is good, because I'm done, Vic. Done pretending, done lying, done being something I'm not just to make everyone comfortable."
"Ambrose—"
"I'm going to tell Grandmother. Right now. After we sort this out." He gestured at the ongoing kitten roundup. He leaned in and lifted an eyebrow. "And you should be honest too."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" He shook his head. "In the end, Vic, honesty’s the only thing you’ve got. So you might as well say your piece."
Before Victoria could respond, he was gone, presumably to fight his battle. Which was when her mother stepped in.
"What was all that about?" Her mother's voice was carefully neutral.
Victoria sighed. She was so tired. Tired of all this. Tired of feelings. She took her mother’s elbow and pulled her into an alcove, marginally quieter than the main chaos.
"Mother—"
"Whatever you have to say, you can say it to me, darling. I mean it. I know I’ve been preoccupied with the party, but you’ve been distracted yourself, haven’t you? Is there something you'd like to tell me about work? You've been rather… tense this holiday. More than usual."
The careful concern in her mother's voice was worse than anger would have been. Victoria found herself crumbling under that gentle maternal gaze.
"I was made redundant," she said quietly. "Right before I came here. My entire department, actually."
"Oh, darling." Lady Charlotte's expression softened immediately. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because I'm supposed to be the perfect daughter with the perfect career and the perfect life. Because I've spent thirty-one years being the one who never puts a foot wrong. Because I couldn't bear to see disappointment in your eyes when you realized I'm not actually as successful as you thought."
"Victoria." Her mother's voice was firm. "Do you honestly think we love you because of your job title?"
"No, but… Don't you?"
"Oh, my dear girl." Lady Charlotte pulled her into a hug that smelled of expensive perfume and maternal comfort. "We're proud of you because you're kind and brilliant and you care about people. The banking was just something you did, not who you are."
Victoria felt tears threatening and blinked them back fiercely. "I got a new job just this afternoon. That’s what the back and forth to London has been about. Everything should be back to normal soon."
"Should it?" Lady Charlotte's voice was carefully neutral. "Is normal what you want?"
Before Victoria could answer, Sasha appeared with an armload of kittens, looking flustered but determined.
"Sorry to interrupt, but we've got them all. Sophie's moving them to the stable block before anyone realizes exactly how many there are."
"Eight," Lady Charlotte said mildly.
Sasha blinked. "You knew?"
"Darling, I've raised four children. I know when someone's hiding something furry and making messes. I was just waiting for Sophie to trust us enough to ask for help. I’m not quite as dim as I might seem. Besides, my mother-in-law is allergic to two things: cats and door-to-door salesman, and I didn’t think Sophie was the entrepreneurial type. "
The party gradually returned to normal, though with significantly more cat hair on everyone's evening wear.
Victoria found herself on the terrace, ostensibly getting air but actually trying to process her mother's words and Ambrose's advice.
But she knew she had no choice. She had to tell Sasha she was leaving the next morning.
???
Sasha found herself crawling under a chaise lounge in pursuit of Newton. The absurdity of chasing escaped kittens through a house party wasn't lost on her, especially when she emerged with cat hair in her mouth and dirt on her knees.
"Got him," she announced triumphantly, holding up the squirming ginger menace. "Though I think he's plotting his next escape already."
The chaos swirled around her as guests aided recovery efforts. Mrs. Pemberton-Smythe was making baby talk at Darwin while Lord Harrison attempted to corner Livingstone with his walking stick. It was like watching a very posh version of a wildlife documentary.
As she scooped up another fugitive, this one black with white paws, she remembered the conversation she’d had with Sophie about rehousing the kittens.
"If you love something, set it free." And just now, watching Victoria across the room looking gorgeous and composed even while extracting a kitten from behind a portrait, the words took on an entirely different meaning.
She loved Victoria. The realization hit her like a freight train, though she supposed she'd known it for days. Possibly weeks. She'd fallen completely, irrevocably in love with a woman who belonged in boardrooms and corner offices, not garden sheds and country estates.
And that was exactly why she had to let her go.
Victoria caught her eye across the chaos and smiled, the sort of smile that made Sasha's chest tight and her knees weak.
That smile belonged in London, in meetings with important people making important decisions.
It didn't belong in a world of muddy boots and rescued kittens and women who'd only just figured out what they wanted to do with their lives.
The temptation to fight for this, to ask Victoria to stay, to build something real together, was overwhelming.
But watching Victoria move through her family's world with such natural grace, Sasha understood that trying to change her would be like asking a rose to be content as a dandelion. Beautiful, but fundamentally wrong.
Ambrose had said that his sister didn’t do relationships, and Sasha could guess why. Because anyone else she dated had wanted her to change. And that wasn’t how things worked. Victoria would only change if she wanted to.
"If this is meant to be," she whispered to the kitten in her arms, "then it'll work. And if it's not…"
Well. At least she'd know she hadn't tried to force Victoria into being someone she wasn't.
The kitten recovery mission was winding down, Sophie having successfully relocated most of the escapees to their new stable block sanctuary. The party was returning to its normal rhythm of champagne and small talk.
Sasha was sweatier than she’d really like to be, so once she’d handed over the last kitten, she stepped out onto the terrace, the evening air cool against her overheated skin. The fairy lights twinkled overhead like stars. And Victoria was leaning against the railing.
"I got the job," Victoria said without preamble. "Richmond Brothers. Senior Investment Manager."
"That's wonderful," Sasha said, and meant it completely. "I’m really happy for you."
"Thank you. It's exactly what I wanted." Victoria's voice was carefully neutral. "I'll be leaving in the morning. Early train back to London to sort out the details."
Sasha felt her heart crack, but she kept her expression steady. "Of course you will. It's a brilliant opportunity."
"Sasha—"
"No, listen." Sasha reached for Victoria's hands, threading their fingers together. "You're brilliant at what you do. I get it. Really, I do."
"You do?"
"This has been the best holiday I’ve ever had." Sasha managed a smile that felt only slightly wobbly. "You've given me something incredible, Victoria. I want you to know that."
Victoria's eyes were dark in the lamplight, unreadable. "And what about what you want?"
"What I want," Sasha said carefully, "is for you to be happy. And if that means London and banking and everything that makes sense in your world, then that's what I want for you."
She leaned forward and kissed Victoria then, soft and sweet and final. It tasted like champagne and goodbye and all the things they might have been in another world.
"I hope it's everything you dreamed of," she whispered against Victoria's lips. "And if you ever need someone to remind you how extraordinary you are, you know where to find me."
Victoria's hands tightened on hers for a moment, like she might say something that would change everything. Then she smiled that perfectly composed smile, and Sasha knew the conversation was over.
They walked back into the party together, but Sasha felt like she was watching it all from a great distance. Victoria would leave in the morning, and Sasha would go back to Manchester and figure out how to turn her newfound love of gardening into an actual life.
It was the right thing to do. The mature thing.
So why did it feel like her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces?