Chapter 50
Xavier
Intentionally screwing over people you’ve known your entire life does not make for a sound night’s sleep.
Yesterday, I felt more invested in my relationship with Selena, or rather, in the stakes upon which that relationship rests, than I ever have before.
The hour I spent with her and then with her parents is something I never, ever wish to repeat.
Neither are the intense pain and shock and disappointment I caused them.
To make matters worse, we all spent yesterday in a kind of holding pattern.
There’s not much of anything to be done on Boxing Day, it turns out.
My mother, who is mortified and furious beyond anything that can be imagined, has been fielding calls from the Wentworths.
Apparently, the wedding planner is briefed, but she can’t actually cancel any suppliers until today.
I’ve caused misery all round, and the ripple effects will continue and magnify over the next few days as suppliers deal with waste and friends cancel travel plans and the press demands explanations.
Around five in the morning, I give up the ghost and wander downstairs. The swath of festive greenery garlanding the main staircase taunts me. It was specifically chosen by Ma and Serena to serve us for Christmas before providing a base for the still-festive wedding florals.
Next to the enormous industrial kitchen stands a butler’s pantry that we family members tend to use out of hours or when we don’t want to bother the staff.
I put the kettle on and grab a couple of teabags.
The idea of making a double-strength cup of builder’s is comforting, somehow.
It reminds me of Ivy, of the simple hospitality she and Jan and Bill offer in their caff.
Which reminds me that I barely ate yesterday.
I could murder a fish-finger sandwich.
I’m mashing the teabags to within an inch of their lives with the back of a spoon when the soft slaps of slippered feet sound beyond the door.
I brace myself for another almighty bollocking from Ma, but it’s only Ben in a robe and pyjamas.
I let out a sigh of relief, and he grins at the sight of me.
‘Ah, Macbeth. Traitor’s insomnia is the worst, isn’t it?’
I ignore that, though he’s not wrong. ‘What are you doing up so early?’
‘I had a lot to think about.’
‘You had a lot to think about. Try stabbing everyone you care about in the back.’
He grimaces sympathetically. ‘Any more water in the kettle?’
I grab the kettle and stick it under the tap before switching it on again.
‘How are you holding up?’ he asks.
‘Not great. I know I’ve made the right decision in the long term, but fuck if the short-term repercussions aren’t brutal.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ve disappointed absolutely everyone.’
He laughs a little at that. ‘A new experience for you, I’m sure. But isn’t it better to disappoint everyone else than to disappoint Ivy for the rest of her life?’
I stare at him. ‘Very philosophical for arse o’clock.’
‘You know me. I’m practically a poet before dawn.’
The view out of the window—pitch black, impenetrable—tells me there are hours and hours to go before dawn arrives and we go into full firefighting mode. He’s right, though. If I can persuade Ivy to take me back, then not disappointing her will make up for absolutely everything else.
‘You spoken to her?’
‘Who, Ivy? No. She blocked me, remember? I’ll go down later in the week and throw myself at her feet.’
The mere thought of seeing her, of being able to tell her I’m a free man, is the softest of lights glowing at the end of a long, long tunnel. Meanwhile, as Frost put it so beautifully, I have miles—of apologies and admin and grovelling and making good and taking hits—to go before I can sleep.
I put a teabag in another mug and pour in the water.
‘If you’re having two, I’ll have two,’ my brother says. ‘Fuck, that’ll put hairs on your chest. Want to know what I was thinking about?’
‘Why not.’ Wearily, I chuck another teabag in.
‘I was thinking,’ he says, collapsing against the counter, ‘about the promise I made Ma and Pa last night after you’d taken your self-pitying little arse off to bed.’
‘And what was that.’
‘That if I’m to inherit all this bullshit, then I’d do it properly and marry Slinks.
And that I should probably go over there and propose first thing this morning so nothing has to get cancelled.
’ He flashes me a full-wattage grin. ‘The Daily Mail will have a field day. I can see the headlines now.’
I stand stock still, the carton of milk in my hand poised to pour. ‘Why, in the name of all that is holy, would you do something like that?’
‘Make the promise? Or marry her?’
‘Either. Both.’
He shrugs. ‘Pa made it pretty fucking clear that you don’t get one without the other. It’s the title, and playing nicely with the Wentworths, or nada.’
‘But he’s out of leverage! He can’t force your hand—he’s got no other options after you.’ Even as the words are out of my mouth, I realise they’re not true. Next in line to succeed after Benedict is our cousin Edward, eldest child of Pa’s late younger brother.
‘Eddie,’ we chorus.
‘Still,’ I continue, ‘there’s no way he wants to see fucking Eddie take over.’ It’s true. Eddie is a bit of a cunt, to put it mildly. Pa would rather die than have him succeed him—although he’s likely to get that wish soon, too.
‘Here’s the thing, though, mate,’ Ben says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
He takes the carton of milk from me and adds a splash to both mugs.
‘This needs to be done properly. The alliance with the Wentworths is a really solid plan. It’ll shore us up cash-wise for generations.
You can’t marry Slinks, obviously, because you’re madly in love.
But I can.’ He shrugs. ‘After all, I’ve always wanted to bone her. You know that.’
‘Marrying someone is a high price to pay for getting your dick wet,’ I argue. ‘Don’t do it. Seriously. They can’t make you.’
While my brother has always enjoyed a more relaxed relationship with Selena than I have, I don’t see them together. They could not be more opposite in every way.
‘Here’s the plan.’ He picks up his mug. ‘I do this properly. I take over everything. I marry Slinky. Two mega-families united and a truckload of cash shored up. Pa pops his clogs, and I step up. I do the duke stuff, but really, we do it together, because I won’t have the foggiest idea of what I’m doing.
’ He winks at me, but it’s a sober wink by his standards.
‘And, most importantly, you and Ivy and her family are looked after. You’re back in the fold, which is exactly where you belong, doing the job you’ve trained for all your life, and together we call the shots. ’
My brother, the charming, feckless second son who’s never been asked to do anything but be himself, has a plan.
He wants to step up to a role where he can head up the family and manage our wellbeing.
And it’s an excellent plan, truly it is, but it has one huge flaw.
And that is that he would have to throw himself under the bus in spectacular style to safeguard my happiness and preserve my position.
‘I can’t let you do it.’
He turns to face me. ‘And why not?’
‘It’s too much to ask. You’re the one who never wants to settle down. I can’t ask you to sacrifice your entire future happiness.’
He looks down at his mug of tea. ‘You can, and you should. Just consider it a thank you.’
‘For what?’
A beat passes before he meets my eyes. ‘You know what.’
Understanding flashes through me.
The lake.
‘Ben, no.’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s not— There’s no quid pro quo. There’s no debt, and even if there was, which there isn’t, I don’t want repayment.’
‘Tough shit,’ he says. ‘There is a debt. You saved my life, bro. I shouldn’t even be here.
But I am, because of you, and I do have a future, which is pretty fucking incredible, when you think about it—and I do think about it, every single day, just so you know.
You gave me that, and it’s mine to do exactly what I want with. ’
‘No,’ I whisper, my eyes stinging with tears. ‘No.’
‘Yes. And honestly, because it’s still dark as fuck out there and I’m still feeling philosophical, I think this is why the universe had you save me. So that, years later, when you fell in love and our parents behaved like a pair of twatty snobs about it, I could step up and save you right back.’
My brain is scrabbling around, trying to find an objection that stops him from falling on his sword for me while coming across as mere pragmatism. I can’t let him do this. I’m Save. I’m supposed to be the one who saves others, not the idiot who requires bailing out at this unforgivable level.
Bingo.
‘Mate, I’m blown away, honestly, but Selena will never go for it.
She’s humiliated enough. There’s no way she’ll just…
swap out one de Vere for another. It’s practically medieval.
She’ll think you’re just doing it out of, I don’t know, sympathy and duty, and go nuclear.
You didn’t see her yesterday. She was fucking furious. ’
He smiles, and it’s his trademark cocky Ben grin.
‘You’re right, obviously, and I thought of that.
I have the absolute perfect cover story for the press.
They’ll eat it up. Let’s go find a sofa, and I’ll fill you in.
It’s genius, if I say so myself.’ He pauses for effect. ‘I’ll need the ring back, though.’