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Not satisfied with just being a married-in leech, he claimed some distant family blood ties, and all of a sudden we had claims on the estate from that end. I hadn’t been bothered enough before to get a private investigator onto his so-called family, but since the Green Dragon, I knew I had to sort this lot out once and for all. If for nothing else, to protect James.
I walk on set into the period drama in full character mode. Lord Stockton is in da’ house. Xander, my period drama sidekick, pulls on his mask and nods at me as we stride into the large and luxurious library—paid for by my ancestors and now me—where of course, tea is being served. I nod at our so-called butler.
And I’m bored already.
I go to my mother, kissing her cheek and offering my stock greeting. Because, bored. And over it. “Hello Mother, you look really well.” She practically wears a uniform. From the stylish and elaborate updo hairstyle, a weekly event, both in Yorkshire and London, to the finest silk blouse, flowing skirt, and heels. Always heels. A show to be put on, for every occasion. Even the most mundane days deserved a show in her book.
“Oh Marcus, darling, you look terrible.” My mother’s stock answer. Lovely.
“Oh thanks, I feel great.” I turn away as if she never said it, and grin at Xan. “Giles not down yet? Still in bed, the lazy git.”
“Honestly, Marcus do you have to? You need to come home if you’re going to talk like that. Los Angeles is not doing you any favours. You’re so American.” She says ‘American’ as if it’s the pits of the earth.
“Any food being served? I’m starving, I need to eat,” I grouse, looking around the library.
“Yes, ten minutes to the gong.”
“We have a gong now? Was Downton selling off pieces from the set?”
Rowena sticks her nose in the air and ignores me, inciting a fit of laughter as Xan and I drink our tea, trying not to completely lose it. One more crack and Xan’s likely to spray someone with his. I can already guess his prime target.
“I hope you two are going to behave. There are serious issues to discuss, Marcus. I fear a coup.”
“Mother, no one's got enough money for a coup, believe me. Who’s here?” I ask, hearing voices floating down the hall, and before she can get going about the coup.
Rowena claps her hands together. “Oh it’s so lovely, you won’t believe it, Marcus. By sheer chance, my friend Chrissie dropped by and she happened to bring her daughter Isobel. Do you remember them, boys?” She ignores the dirty look I give her and carries on. “Giles, obviously, and Anthony.”
“Great, just what I need on my very short trip to England. Old friends.” The sarcasm is so thick, but so, apparently, is my mother.
“I know!” She gushes, totally oblivious to the looks Xan and I are sharing. “That’s just what I said. They’ve just popped out to freshen up.”
My eyes pop out of my head the next minute as Chrissie and Isobel come back into the room, the younger woman dressed to kill, nightclub style. Clearly noone has informed Isobel of the golden rules of dressing in polite society. Or she has just ignored them. Legs or boobs, but never both on display at the same time. Clearly Issy intends to dish her cleavage up for brunch, as it’s practically on a platter for everyone to stare at. I cast a sly look Xan’s way and catch him staring at Isobel like she’s got two heads.
“I feel a bit underdressed,” he says to the room at large.
I’m close enough to my mother and lean even closer so only she can hear me. “She is as well. No fucking clothes on.” I don’t crack a smile. I just look through them all, as if they don’t matter.
Rowena is all flustered and looks up at me with a worried look in her eye.
She gets up to kiss them all, which is totally weird as she’s already seen them, cooing over their appearance with an over-the-top, “How lovely you look, dear.” I assume she’s done it so we all have to greet them with kisses.
I literally grit my teeth and air kiss Chrissie with my stock greeting. As Isobel comes towards me, arms open with a huge smile on her face, I hesitate. She’s someone I thought I could trust one hundred percent—and I would normally pull her into a massive bear hug, make a fuss—but my mind is going back to the tale Evie told me. And to be honest, I can’t help looking at her differently.
I air kiss her instead and don’t miss her confusion as she, my mother, and Chrissie all pass a look between them.
I glare around at the women responsible for keeping me from my child for eighteen fucking years. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we,” I announce, and stride out of the room just as the damn gong sounds.
Xander waits for all the ladies, like the gentleman he purports to be, and I practically bump into Giles coming down the stairs.
“Marcus, great to see you,” fakes out Giles.
I shake hands with him and say in a sugar sweet voice, “Hope you're enjoying this year’s London scene at my home. Giles?”
Giles’ face falters just a fraction. But it’s soon rectified. “It’s perfect Marcus. Your mother loves dining out and all the parties.”
“I’m so thrilled you’re both pleased. Come through, after you.” I indicate the way even though I know he’s been living here for years. The man is a nightmare.
A shout from behind me brings my first genuine smile of the day in this house. “Anthony!”
