Page 26 of Cruel Dynasty

“You mean Iris,” Beatrice said her name with disdain. “I can’t believe you’d let her. This is going to be the social event of the season. The biggest wedding since Alexander married Clara.”

“Hopefully, less exciting,” Edward muttered next to me, low enough that she couldn’t hear.

I shot him a sympathetic look. Turning, I dropped my voice. “I should tell you that I was really sorry to hear about your husband.”

Edward stilled, save for the slide of his throat. Then, he nodded. “Thank you. It’s been a rough year.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Beatrice called.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, not wanting her to add any more tactless remarks on the subject.

“No secrets amongst friends.” She pretended to pout. “Tell them, Holden.”

His mouth curved into a wry smile and he reached for his wine glass. “I’m staying out of this.”

“Really, Edward, I want to hear everything,” she continued. “There’s so much catching up to do with all of us since we graduated. How have you been?”

I felt the urge to reach out and grab his hand to steady him through the encounter, but owing to the ridiculous formality of our dining arrangement that was impossible.

But Edward gave her a serene smile as he lifted his napkin to dab the corners of his mouth. He replaced it on his lap and answered, “Well, my husband is dead. So I’ve kinda been shit.”

His words hit Beatrice like a gust of wind. She seemed to rise a little before collapsing into a mass of apologies. “I’m sorry, that was thoughtless of me. I just...thought we could all catch up, but, of course, I should have been more sensitive. Please—”

“Beatrice.” Edward cut her off with a raised hand. “Let’s just drop it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course.” She nodded in agreement, waving a server over to take her barely touched soup. I was grateful when mine was lifted from the place in front of me, as well. “So, how is your brother then? And your new nephew?”

“They’re fabulous,” he said, snagging his wine glass and holding it up for a refill. “Might I get another glass?”

Somehow, I doubted he meant that. I also doubted that Beatrice was going to pick up on the fact that Edward didn’t want to catch up or talk about his life. She must be blind not to see it, but perhaps that’s just what happens when the world revolves around you long enough.

“Beatrice, what are you up to these days?” I jumped in, knowing that every narcissist’s favorite topic was themself.

“Well, I’ve been working with the London historical trust,” she began, and continued on through the main course and well after. It was both a reprieve and a punishment. Beatrice clearly found her days more fascinated than anyone who did absolutely fucking nothing, should. Holden used the time to drink a bottle of wine. Edward the same. I kept her talking, not bothering to eat much myself. That was until pudding arrived.

“Your eyes just lit up,” Spencer murmured when the Yorkshire pudding he’d shared with me earlier was placed before me.

I sank my spoon into it and took a bite, sagging with pleasure. It felt like a reward after handling Beatrice through the whole soup course and following salmon entree. When I finally looked up, I found Holden watching me. His gaze lingered on my mouth, his eyes narrowed, and he shifted in his chair, finishing another glass of wine. There was something possessive in the way he surveyed me. Finally, his eyes lifted to meet mine and I found myself unable to turn away, just as I had the day at the bridal salon. Spencer had taken over with Beatrice and was too absorbed in feigning interest in the details of her upcoming philanthropy drive to notice Holden’s naked interest.

Edward coughed, severing the connection, and I turned my face to my plate, shame burning on my cheeks.

“When are you getting married?” he asked me gently as though he was approaching an escaped horse that needed to be led back to its own pasture.

I lifted my brows, surprised that he would bring up weddings given what he had been through. “We’d talked about summer, but it seems our families want a holiday wedding.”

“Holiday weddings are beautiful,” he said in a thick voice. There was a flash of pain in his blue eyes and I saw him struggle to keep it under control. “There’s really no point in waiting if you know it’s right. Take the time that you have and hold on tightly. Love can be taken in an instant.”

“I will,” I promised him so softly that he probably couldn’t even hear me, but he bobbed his head in approval. Part of me wished I could crack open and spill out all my secrets to him. There was something about the man that felt so comforting, like he could be my best friend, but this wasn’t the time or place for that. And it would be a terrible position to put him in since he’d known Spencer for years.

As soon as we were finished, Beatrice announced cocktails would be served in the conservatory. I found myself longing for my small flat in West Bexby where dinner, drinks, and life were all carried out on one sofa in a tiny room. Maybe it was the arrangement I’d agreed to, but this world felt like wandering into a stage play. Every new scene needed to be played on a new set. There were even costume changes. Maybe that’s why it had been so easy to slip into Kerrigan’s life. She was playing a part, just like the rest of them. I was simply her understudy.

“I’m afraid I need to be going. My driver is waiting for me,” Edward said apologetically when we reached the hall.

“But we’ll see more of you. Promise!” Beatrice demanded shrilly, throwing her arms around his neck and nearly knocking him off balance.

I’d been stuck listening to her drone on about her life throughout dinner. She’d been so busy talking that she had barely eaten. She had gotten in a fair bit of drinking, however.

“Of course,” he said quickly, prying himself free. He shook Spencer’s hand and Holden’s. Then he turned to me and did the last thing I expected.