Page 35 of Cruel Dynasty

“So Kate is a class warrior,” he said in an amused voice.

“Kate isn’t anything. I just wasn’t sure if you have any idea how the real world works.”

“Oh, I know, dirty girl.” His eyes narrowed, all friendliness vanishing from his face. “Do you?”

“I think I’m doing okay so far.”

He laughed. “Why? Because you look like some rich guy’s daughter? That’s not taking care of yourself, that’s luck.”

“Sometimes luck is seeing opportunity for what it is.” I shrugged. I’d seized a chance at a better life. I wouldn’t let him make me feel badly for that.

“Look, I’m not judging you. I hope that you squeeze every cent you can out of him. And my brother, for that matter. I just wanted you to admit the truth,” he confessed.

“Is that really why?” I felt bolder now that the lie was no longer between us. “Or is there another reason?”

“What are you implying, Kate?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he said my name.

But he could nip at me all he wanted. He wouldn’t get a bite. “I figured out how you knew I wasn’t Kerrigan. I should have realized sooner.” I paused. “You two had a thing.”

I waited for him to challenge me, but he didn’t. “Yeah, we had a thing.”

His jaw tensed and he shook his head in disgust, leaving me to wonder what about his past with Kerrigan had left him looking so angry.

“So you knew the whole time?” I asked.

“That you weren’t Kerrigan? I figured it out pretty quickly. At first, I thought you were being a bitch and ignoring me,” he said unapologetically. “And then I realized you really didn’t know who I was — and that was, well, impossible.”

“Why? Because you’re so memorable”? I rolled my eyes.

But when they found him again, his were blazing. “No,” he answered in a thick voice, “because Kerrigan and I were in love with each other.”

16

I hadn't seen Holden since that morning. I wondered if he was avoiding me, too. There was plenty of space to hide in Hensley House, but somehow it still felt too small—too claustrophobic—still. Every corner I turned, every corridor I roamed, I expected to find him. But I didn't. After a while, the anxiety of running into him became too much for me. I needed to clear my head before I saw him again.

I couldn’t seem to do that in the massive country estate.

Spencer’s keys were still on the nightstand. I found a jacket in the wardrobe and decided to follow his advice. I’d go into the village or drive around. Maybe space would help me figure out what to do. I’d never driven a car as expensive as the McLaren. It took me a moment to find all of its bells and whistles, but try as I might, I couldn't figure out how to work the navigation. I’d never find the village without it. It hardly mattered, though. I didn’t really care about the village. I just needed to get away from here.

The Yorkshire countryside was beautiful in early autumn. The turning leaves dusted the roadways with jeweled petals that seemed brighter in the day’s gloomy light. Clouds hung over the moors. I drove aimlessly, turning down lanes on a whim and ignoring road signs.

I tapped the leather-wrapped steering wheel and wondered how much longer I could hold up my end of my arrangement with Tod Belmond. Holden’s revelation left me to wonder if that was why she had run away. He hadn’t given me any more details. I had no idea how long ago they’d been involved. Maybe the idea of facing Holden while agreeing to marry his brother was too much for her to bear. But even if that was the case, it didn't explain where she was now. Something wasn't right about Tod Belmond and his obsession with seeing this marriage through. When I first met him, I'd written it off as some ridiculous, rich person thing. Arranged marriages? Just another quirk of the aristocracy. Now I was beginning to wonder what secrets he was keeping. And if he was hiding things, could I trust Giles or Iris?

I wanted to. God, I wanted to trust them.

I slowed the car as I came to a gate at the end of a country lane. Sheep milled about, their wool was thick and wiry as if they were preparing for the coming winter. How long before someone came to shear them to make expensive sweaters? I put the car in reverse, but paused and watched them run. They divided as if clearing a path, and a moment later, a dog raced through them. Then, a man appeared in thick tweed and tall boots. He waved to me, unperturbed to find a woman sitting near his gate watching his flock. I could hear their bleating cries through the windows. But they didn’t run from the shepherd once he stood among them. They didn’t run from the man fattening them. They didn’t flee from the one who would steal their coats. They didn’t know any better.

That’s what dependence did. It built false trust. It led lambs to slaughter.

I had jumped at the chance to leave London and all those questions I couldn’t bear to ask. I couldn't do that much longer. Not with the wedding date set for December. Not without knowing where Kerrigan was and if her father had contact with her. I'd allowed myself to be bought. I allowed myself to follow him like these lambs followed their shepherd. How many of them were going to slaughter? Was that where Tod was leading me?

And none of that told me what to do about Holden.

He hadn't asked for my cooperation. He didn't try to blackmail me. But it was only a matter of time. I knew that. There was no way he would keep silent about who I really was without something in return. But the worst part of it—the thing I couldn’t escape no matter how far I drove—was that deep inside me, I wanted to be in his debt.

I could never have Spencer. Even if Tod Belmond expected me to go through with the wedding, I wouldn't be able to lie to him forever. Not while it was getting harder and harder to maintain the line between my life and hers. Marrying Spencer, even temporarily in her name, might make it impossible for me to remember who I was. No, I couldn't have Spencer. Not much longer anyway. Once he knew the truth, he would hate me.

But Holden saw me. He knew. I could be myself around him. At least, I thought so. I'd wanted him from the moment we met. But even that couldn't last. I was living a borrowed life. I was walking in another woman's shoes. Sooner or later, I had to find my own pair.