Page 30 of London Dynasty

“I woke up early and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Something weighing on your mind?” she asked as she stepped inside, leaving the door cracked behind her. “Or rather, someone?”

A smile escaped me, and she lit up.

“I knew it! When you two were dancing, I half expected something to catch fire.” She plopped onto my sofa and patted the cushion. “I want details.” I blushed, and she laughed. “Okay, you can keep some of the details to yourself but tell me what you can.”

I walked her through the evening, rearranging small bits of the story so as not to give anything away.

“So Holden let you think he was Spencer?” she repeated after I finished.

“Well, in a way,” I said. That had been the trickiest part to explain. I’d done my best to push Holden away from my thoughts. He had tried to creep into my fantasies but I’d shut the door every time. Spencer was the man I was meant for, and the man who wanted me as well. I suspected with Holden I’d be nothing but an afternoon snack.

“He sounds like trouble,” she said.

I nodded. I had no doubt that was true, which was the number one reason I needed to steer clear of him. There was enough for me to keep straight without adding a variable to the mix.

Before I could tell her that, the door opened wider and Giles stepped through, carrying a towering arrangement of flowers half as tall as he was and looking mildly surprised to find us sitting there.

“These were just delivered,” he informed me, placing them on the coffee table in front of us.

I paused for a moment to appreciate the large white roses, already in full bloom, and complemented by sprays of Queen Anne’s Lace. Then, I spotted a small gold envelope tucked into the bouquet. I plucked it out and tore open the flap.

“What does it say?” Iris asked in a giddy voice.

I snorted a laugh as I read it. Apparently, the flowers were the romantic gesture. The note was to the point, instead. “He wants to have dinner this evening.”

“Shall I send back your response?” Giles asked.

I realized then that I had no way to contact Spencer. He wasn’t saved in my mobile phone yet. I didn’t have his email address. Did that mean he didn’t have mine either? Is that why he’d sent the flowers? The whole thing felt like an archaic courting ritual, as though I’d stepped into a Jane Austen novel. It seemed at odds with the erotic charge I felt toward Spencer Byrd, and somehow, completely normal. As if that was just the way things were in a powerful London dynasty.

I had a lot to learn about my new life, but for now, I would continue to let Spencer take the lead. “Tell him I look forward to it.”

Chapter Seventeen

I allowed Giles and Iris to pick out my dinner dress after it became clear to me that neither of them was going to give up until I acquiesced. After thirty minutes of listening to them squabble, I had a headache. Ducking out of the room, I decided it was time to explore my new home. I’d been on the official tour with Giles, but there was plenty I hadn’t seen. I’d always found I needed to get to know a place on my own. Most of the employees I encountered were too busy to do more than nod quickly as they passed, off to whatever task they were in the midst of. But I couldn’t help noticing that none of them met my eyes.

The entire house was as picture-perfect as Kerrigan’s bedroom. The kitchen was updated and immaculate with high-end appliances and pristine white cabinetry. The sofa and chairs in the drawing-room looked like they had never been sat upon. Everywhere I turned a magazine-worthy spread waited for me, but underneath the glossy finishes and expensive furniture there was a coldness that left me feeling ill at ease. It was all too perfect, as though it had been contrived to create an impression and not a home.

I paused in the sitting room on the first floor and studied a framed photograph of a little girl and a woman, both of whom looked so similar my breath caught.

“That’s Marissa and Kerrigan,” Tod called, and I turned to find him standing in the doorway.

“Marissa?” I already knew who she was. It was glaringly obvious, but I found myself wanting to hear what Tod had to say about her.

“My first wife.” He stepped into the room, offering an uncomfortable smile. “Kerrigan’s mother.”

“She’s very beautiful.” My heart pounded as I considered the possibility of meeting her. I’d never known my own mother. I’d never known either of my parents. I didn’t have a single memory of either of them. It wasn’t rational to want to meet her simply because she looked so much like my mother must have, but I was beginning to understand that love and sentiment didn’t operate according to reason.

“She was,” he said meaningfully. “She died a few years ago.”

I gasped, still staring at the photograph. The woman in the picture was so full of life, her arms wrapped around her daughter as both beamed at the camera. There was no sign of illness. “What happened?”

“A boating accident. She drowned. Thankfully, Kerrigan survived.”

“Kerrigan was there?” I repeated. I’d born the loss of my own parents as an orphan who’d never known anything else. I’d ached to know them, building impossible narratives of who they had been and what they were like. I couldn’t imagine the pain that came with having one’s mother snatched away. I wondered if it was deeper or the same. I wondered if one day I might be able to ask Kerrigan about it or comfort her.

I put the picture back on the mantle, feeling silly.