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“AAhhh, now we’re getting to it. All my brothers know I’m here, yet no one said. Typical. The boys are back at it again.”
“No, Evie, it’s not like that. I asked Jackson to look into Giles and he found out what the latest plot is. I’ve got it checked before they can get into full gear. They’re not far behind though, according to what my mother said last night. Giles ‘let it slip’ to mother that if I’m married to anyone, the title is mine. End of story. And of course she has her own plan to keep it all in the family. She invited both Isobel and Chrissie to dinner. Practically glued Isobel in my lap, leaving us strategically alone. It was fucking purgatory.”
I’m shaking my head in disgust. “Look, the decision to accept it should be left to James. And with what they’re playing, he’ll never have that chance. Patrick has confirmed the papers all refer to the heir being legitimate, and the only way that can happen is if I marry you. This isn’t about us, it’s about him.”
“Don’t you think someone will notice it’s eighteen years after the event?”
“Ahhh, but the papers don’t state how long or when they should be married, just that they should be. We can play word games too. All those years ago, they wouldn’t have expected someone to actually marry a person later on, out of wedlock. Not in Tudor times. There was no going back, no living together, having kids and not being married. Married or not, end of it.”
“Does it state you should be married to the mother of the child or that you should just be married. Clearly your mother thinks Isobel will solve all your problems.”
I ignore her again and say, “I don’t want to give them any room to manoeuvre. Marrying Isobel saves them from stealing the title from me. It does nothing towards keeping it for James. It has to be you. I also think they’re trying to use my mother, tricking her into thinking she is doing something good for the estate and me. But I want it to be, and it has to be unequivocal.
“Lucky old me,” she mutters as she slumps back into her chair. “Does it state a time frame, or could it just be for a day?” she asks hopefully as Tim comes into the room.
“I’ve asked Tim to come in as he’ll need to handle publicity.”
“I haven’t agreed, so nothing to handle as far as I can see.”
“If you want to make it believable, you’ll have to do it for longer than a day,” puts in Patrick.
Tim swivels to look at Evie and smiles knowingly. He can see how well it’s going.
“Well, how long?” she asks Patrick.
“I think twelve months,” I put in, confidently.
“Not a chance in hell I’m giving you a year,” she sputters out. “No, definitely no, that’s just ridiculous. Anyway, it's total bull, because James doesn’t want this. Get him on the phone, and we can shut this down now.”
“I don’t have to get him on the pho?—”
“Kellen, get him on?—”
“He’s here, he’s come here. I thought it might come to this, so I asked him to come down.”
I pull the door open and go into another room, leaving her to mull that over, only to find James sitting quietly in a chair at a table by himself. He raises his eyebrow at me.
“Sorry, Son, she won’t have it. You’ll have to come and say what you want.”
“It wasn’t going to be easy, I told you that.”
The moment he walks into the room, she stands and pulls him into a hug. “James, this is madness. Do you really want this title?” He nods. “Why, Sunshine? For a house you’ve never been to? And ours are way better anyway. It's falling down, makes no money, and you’re going to have to pick up the bills, just like he does.” She points at me in disgust.
I really shouldn’t be surprised at how annoying she’s being about my family. They treated her like a second class citizen. She’s on a tear, though. A total downer on anything Russell, just getting warmed up on her litany of crap about Eastwood. Deserved, I know, but Jesus, she pisses me off. She just does not listen at times. Like a bull in a china shop, no one can get a word in edgeways. I grin a bit at that, so like James in LA.
“Why, James? Has he emotionally blackmailed you into it?”
“Fuck off, I have not! I wouldn’t do that to my son. And trust me, this is the only way. You’ve made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with me outside of caring for James and Bucky. That you dislike everything I stand for. Do you think I want to spend time with someone who can’t stand the sight of me? What I am. What I stand for. Oh, and don’t get me started on that house. You loved that fucking house at one time. You were never out of it.”
“I loved you, you imbecile, not your house. But, loved. Past tense. Like way past tense.” My heart booms as if she’s attached jump leads to it, blasting it into full life. I totally disregard the past comment and focus on the love.
“Stop it. Stop shouting at each other, and I’ll tell you why I want the title, Mum. For them.”
“Who?” She asks, totally confused.
James turns and looks at me. “I never said why I would do it yesterday. Don’t you want to know why I said I’d take the title, Dad?” I look into his eyes, mine full of trepidation at what he might say, his clear and determined. “I want to do it for my other siblings. The ones who didn’t make it. I know they—you—didn’t know about me. I know that even if they hadn’t died, and had grown up without me, they may not have known me growing up. But they would have eventually. Your son, the first one you lost, he would have inherited it as you were married to his mum. If I don’t take it, I’ll feel I’ve let them all down. Because I know one of them would have taken it. If they'd had a chance to.”
Evie’s standing stock still, staring at our son. I’m taking him in, mesmerised, as if really seeing who he’s become. What a man he is. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest, it won’t withstand the Greystone onslaught. My insides feel like they’ve been scattered on the floor. I make a strangled noise in the back of my throat, but he goes on, addressing the room.
