by Geneva Lee
“I’m being a bitch, aren’t I?” Lola said with a frown, lowering her champagne flute. “Ugh, Anders isn’t here to call me on it. I’m sorry. That was a thoughtless thing to say. She’s not any prettier than you and it’s not like Smith would even notice another woman.”
I swallowed the rest of my champagne in a single gulp. I was delivered from more awkward apologies by the return of the waiter. He drew a small notepad out of his canvas apron pocket, blowing a strand of brown hair from his eyes.
“What do you suggest?” Lola said, her eyes scrolling across the options on the blackboard.
“Most people opt for the fish and chips,” he informed us.
Something about the weary way he spoke sparked in me. “What’s the best thing on the menu? We’re celebrating.”
“The guinea fowl,” he said without hesitation.
“You sure?”
“I cooked it myself.” He gave a crooked grin. “I’m afraid I’m pulling triple duty most weekdays.”
“You’re the cook?” Lola looked delighted by this news.
“And the owner, which sounds a lot more glamorous than it is,” he admitted.
I couldn’t help being surprised. He couldn’t be much older than us. I guessed there was a story about how he’d wound up here with a restaurant, but I didn’t want to pry.
“What are you celebrating?” He dropped into Nora’s chair.
“What aren’t we celebrating?” Lola asked. “Let’s see her new baby and our business getting a column in the U.K.’s leading high fashion magazine...oh, and I guess, your new house.”
“And you came to Sussex for that?” he said with a laugh.
“Her new house is here,” Lola explained.
“Really? Welcome to town. Where did you move?”
“Thornham Park,” I said.
He flinched. I cocked my head, checking to see if Lola caught it, too. From the quizzical look, she was giving him, she had.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “You spend enough time around these parts and you hear plenty about Thornham.”
“All good, I hope,” I said dryly. Considering we’d found skeletons during our remodel, I knew better than to expect that. I could only imagine what a small village like Briarshead whispered about a house as old as mine. Superstition and gossip. Still, I couldn’t shake the way he’d reacted when I’d told him I lived there. A pit formed in my stomach, my hunger vanishing.
“What kind of things?” Lola pressed, interested in the detached way of someone who didn’t have to return to sleep there. I wanted to tell them to drop it, but I found myself curious.
“The usual ghost stories.” He shrugged. “The place is hundreds of years old. It’s all nonsense.” He looked at me with a soft smile. “The champagne is on me.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“Consider it a housewarming present…”
“Belle,” I told him, holding out a hand.
To my surprise, he didn’t shake it, he kissed it. I flushed as he smiled up at me. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had been so forward with me. Then again, I’d been hugely pregnant for months, and I usually had a protective alpha male at my side.
"Enchantée, Belle. I’m Tomas,” he told me.
Before I could be too embarrassed, he turned and took Lola’s hand. She giggled as she introduced herself. Before he could continue his seduction attempts, Nora appeared holding a shrieking baby. I stood so quickly, my chair clattered to the floor. Guilt washed over me. I’d nearly forgotten she was off with Nora. What kind of mother was I? Letting a strange French man kiss my hand while my baby was off with her nanny?
“What’s wrong?” I switched into anxious mum mode instantly.
“I’m so sorry.” Nora looked genuinely horrified as she bounced from foot to foot. “But there’s no nappies in the bag.”
“What? I packed them!” I swiped the bag from her, rifling through it anxiously, each second growing more aware of Lola and Tomas’s eyes on me as Penny screamed.
There were none. I’d made a list. I’d laid awake planning, worried I would screw something up—and I had. How had I forgotten something as basic as nappies?
“There’s a shop on the corner,” Tomas said kindly.
“I’ll go grab them,” Nora said. She moved to pass Penny to me and I took her, rocking swiftly in a desperate attempt to calm her. But my daughter only seemed more upset to be with me. Her howling cries splintered the last remnants of my self-control and I dissolved into tears as Nora disappeared to find diapers.
“Sorry,” I croaked, shushing Penny to no effect.
“Forget the guinea fowl,” Tomas said. “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as he was gone, I turned and for one moment, Lola looked so much like her sister that I blurted out a confession, “She doesn’t like me.”
“Oh, Belle.” Lola stood, moving closer to me and stroking my arm. “That’s not true. She’s just uncomfortable.”
“Because of me,” I sobbed. “I can’t even pack a changing bag properly.”
“Let me,” Lola said, gently taking Penny from her arms. She was bright red from screaming, and being passed off only resulted in her skin deepening to purple as she howled louder. “See? She hates me, too!”
I forced myself to smile, even though the joke did nothing to soothe me. I couldn’t believe that I’d let my business partner see me this unglued. As far as I knew, Lola had no interest in kids. I’d rarely even seen her around her niece and nephew. Now, thanks to me, she was cajoling a pissed off newborn instead of sipping champagne.
“Here. This will help,” Tomas announced, placing a plate with a large, four-tiered slice of chocolate cake on the table. He waved me to the chair, passing me a cloth napkin. “Sit. Chocolate fixes everything.”
I dropped into the chair, dabbing my eyes with the napkin. With both their eyes on me, I picked up a fork and took a small bite before managing a brittle smile. I was supposed to be the caregiver here. I was the mum, but everyone was busy taking care of me while my baby cried.
Because I couldn’t calm her down.
Because I wasn’t meant to be a mother.
That was why I’d had the miscarriage. That’s why it had taken me a year to get pregnant again. It was why Smith hovered so much in the background when I had Penny. He could sense it. I’d felt his feelings toward me change since I gave birth. He could see right through me to the hollow, rotten core that was never meant to care for a child.
“Got them,” Nora called brightly, coming back into the restaurant. Two more diners entered behind her, looking startled at the scene they’d stumbled upon.
I stood and grabbed Penny, holding out my hand for the shop bag. “I’ve got it.”
“Do you want help?” Nora asked as she passed it to me.
“No, can you take my card out and pay? I don’t want to disturb everyone else’s lunch.” I managed to say this evenly even as my heart beat so fast I thought I was going to crack open.
Carrying Penny to the bathroom, I discovered that Nora had been right earlier. There was nowhere to change the baby but the floor. Sinking down gracelessly, and realizing that my days of leather pants were long over, I spread the changing pad on the floor, and began changing her. Her nappy was so full that I started to cry again with her. I’d done this to her. As soon as I’d cleaned her up, she calmed down, yawning widely, exhausted from what I’d put her through. Snapping up her romper, I cradled her close to my shoulder as I repacked the bag, shoving the nappies inside it along with the dirty one.
Standing, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the sink. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me. I needed a haircut. Despite doing my make-up earlier, bluish circles ringed my eyes—eyes so bloodshot that they nearly matched my lipstick. I looked like I’d walked out of a horror movie. The sleepy bundle at my shoulder nuzzled against me, and the stranger in the mirror cringed.
Except it wasn’t a stranger reflected there. It was me, and
for the first time, I saw the truth as I held my little girl:
I wasn’t struggling. I wasn’t adjusting. I simply wasn’t.
Wasn’t meant to be a mother, wasn’t happy, wasn’t ready.
And, in that moment, I wished Penny had never been born.
18
Smith
I spent the afternoon performing comforting rituals. Belle had unpacked a few boxes worth of books and begun to set up my desk, but there was still plenty to do. The menial tasks kept my hands occupied, but they weren’t enough to keep me from thinking about Longborn’s call. When we made the grisly discovery in the wine cellar I told myself this was natural for a house of this age. Longborn himself had said it. Now, it seemed there was more to the story. I went about the room, absentmindedly alphabetizing a series of law journals until the last volume was in place.
In truth, the whole process was rather pointless. We didn’t need me to go back to taking clients. Between the London real estate I’d divested after marrying Belle, which included my holdings in Velvet, a private club and my family home, neither I nor my wife needed to work another day in our lives. That was easier said than done. I wasn’t about to tell Belle to give up her company. But, if I was being honest, starting a law firm in Briarshead was more about the appearance of legitimacy then actually wanting to practice law. I’d expected Alexander to put up more of the fights when I told him we were leaving London. Perhaps, I thought too highly of the help I’d given him tracking Clara down a few months ago. Or, and this was much more likely, I’d underestimated his capacity for sympathy. Why would he deny me the decision to protect my wife and child? It was the motivation that drove him entirely. Naturally, he understood my position. But having his blessing meant I no longer needed a professional cover. That left me at an impasse.
Still, I couldn’t help thinking I might be able to do some good. We didn’t need the money, but maybe that was the missing piece. I took a seat behind my desk and stared at it. I’d studied law because Hammond wanted me to study law, because my father had been in law. I’d been another weapon in Hammond’s arsenal, used to cover up the tracks of vice and criminal activity he needed to hide. I didn’t exactly have a passion for the law, exactly, but I was very, very good at what I did.
It’s why Hammond had walked for years free despite his crimes. I couldn’t quite forgive myself all the wrong I had done on his behalf as his personal legal counsel. Perhaps, I could ease some of my guilt, though. I could offer my services pro bono to people in the village who couldn’t afford legal representation. I could represent them to the town council or help them with custody or divorces or other small claims. I might actually be able to turn the sordid skills of my past into something valuable.
Or, I could stay home and fuck my wife.
I couldn’t help feeling my ideal life lay somewhere in between the two.
Not that Belle had shown any interest in me since Penny’s arrival. We’d been given strict orders by the doctor to wait at least six weeks before resuming sexual activity. One had to presume that the doctor had meant boring vanilla sex, and not the intimacy which we craved from one another. Or that we used to want.
I still wanted her, but maybe she had forgotten. Penny had only hit six weeks a few days ago. Belle was up with her every night and tired during the day. We’d only just brought Nora on to help. And Belle had said things—cruel things—about herself during that time. Maybe she was just waiting for me to initiate and prove I still desired her.
My balls ached as I considered how I might go about proving it, and I adjusted them in my trousers.
As much as I wanted my wife in every way, as much as I’d hungered to take her every day, this was new territory to me. When I first met Belle, she talked a big game about not sleeping with me. I played along with it, assuming the role of her boss. Back then, sex had been inevitable between us. In those days, tension lingered in the air like static before a thunderstorm. She’d wanted it all the time. I’d given it to her whenever possible. It was an understanding. Now? There was nothing. No sign or indication of interest on her part. I reasoned with myself that she was tired and still adjusting to being a mother, but that left me wondering what would happen if I walked into our bedroom, picked her up, and fucked her against the wall until she remembered who she belonged to.
I wanted to every time I saw her. In the morning, when I caught glimpses of her stepping into the shower. At night, when she slipped off her robe and slid between the sheets. Nothing had changed in that regard. Except that I seemed to want her even more. I even found myself considering another baby, ready to see her round with the life I’d given her again.
But like my desires for intimacy, I kept these thoughts to myself almost instinctively. I knew somehow that bringing up another baby or future children would make her cry. I couldn’t even allow myself to wonder if bringing up sex would do the same.
Because the truth was that I was more in love with my wife than ever before. But for the first time since we met, I wasn’t sure she would say the same about me.
My mobile vibrated, its ringtone muffled by my leather desk pad. I reached for it, grateful for the distraction from the depressing thoughts intruding on my afternoon. I frowned when I saw Georgia’s number flashing on the screen. She never called unless something was wrong. Considering the last time I had seen her, I’d asked her to look into Thornham’s history, I braced myself as I answered. “Hello?”
“Yes, I’d like to speak to Lord Price. Is he available or is he out hunting or planning this evening’s round of charades in the salon?” she responded dryly.
“Have you ever been to the country?” I asked, sinking into my desk chair, and smiling despite myself. “Or have you just seen period dramas on television?”
There was an unladylike snort on the other end. “I don’t have time to go to the country, but yes I have been before.”
I had a hard time picturing Georgia amongst the genteel country circle, politely gossiping with the ladies after dinner and riding out on horseback for the morning hunt on weekends. It wasn’t her style. It wasn’t mine either. All the more reason, I was going to have to find something to do with myself. From all indications, that was exactly what people did in the country. At least, visiting aristocrats and billionaires. Thorneham was so far removed from the village that I didn’t exactly have a great sense of what day-to-day life was like amongst its small population. But from what I’d seen of estate life, Georgia wasn’t far off in her assumptions. “Did you need something?”
“I see that you’ve got the tuck-up part of living on an estate down" she answered. “I was calling with an update for you, but if you’re too busy doing whatever it is you do out there, you can call me back later.”
“Out with it,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. The truth was that except for when I read through the London Times over my morning coffee, I hadn’t kept up with anything going on in the city. With Belle and the baby gone for the day, I didn’t know what to do with my time. An update from Georgia would at least distract me until they returned home.
“Fine. There’s a sealed report about your house with the local police department.”
“A sealed report?” I repeated. “What does it say?”
“How would I know? It’s sealed,” she said slowly, so I could keep up.
That was the thing about Georgia—she would help you out, but she’d make you work for it. “Sorry. I was under the impression you worked for the King of Great Britain.”
“Whatever is in that file hasn’t been digitized,” she said. “I’d have to come and request it in person, or at least that’s what the detective that answered told me.”
“Longborn?”
“Something like that.”
Everything fell into place. I’d been concerned about what Longborn was coming to tell me, but it hadn’t occurred to me that he might find people digging into the history of the house suspicious. Georgia had probably triggered small-town paranoia, the kind
that kept ghost stories alive, and now I would be receiving a personal visit from the officer to ensure everything was on the up and up.
“He called me this morning.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. “I’d actually thought there might be something to worry about when he said he needed to speak with me. He probably just wants to know who the pushy bitch requesting old files is.”
“Remind me not to do you any more favors,” Georgia said, her tone flat.
“I’ll request the file.” I couldn’t imagine what I’d owe her if she actually came down here and got the report in person. Possibly my second born.
“Something tells me he won’t like that,” Georgia said thoughtfully.
“Why would he care about an old file?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But I wasn’t a pushy bitch with him,” she said. I could almost picture her air quoting me. “I tried everything to get him to send me that file. I was sugar-sweet, Price, and he wouldn’t budge.”
“You know how things are in a village,” I said to her. “They have to abide by their red tape or they have nothing to do.”
“Well, if you find out more, I want to know,” Georgia said. “I want to know what’s hiding in your basement.”
“Nothing’s hiding in my basement,” I snapped. At the same moment the door down the hall slammed shut, startling me. I checked my Omega and frowned. Either Mrs. Winters was upset about something and slamming doors, or Belle’s lunch date had been cut short. For once, I’d rather deal with an irritated housekeeper than discover something had gone wrong for my wife’s trip out. “I need to go. It sounds like a dead end, anyway.”
“I’ll keep looking into it.”
I opened my mouth to tell her not to bother, but she’d already hung up. It was a waste of George’s time to keep looking into this, especially if it was as simple as getting a file from Longborn. I wanted to know more about the skeletons they found of my property, but I couldn’t deny that all evidence pointed to a rational explanation for their presence. We’d probably simply disturbed an old grave, excavating to add to the casks. Sometimes, I wondered if my time in London had warped my perception of the world. Had I begun to see evil doing when there was only coincidence? I needed to focus on here and now, starting with checking on my wife. The hallway was so eerily quiet, I’d begun to think I’d imagined it. I poked my head into the guest rooms and the nursery, finding both empty. As I walked toward my room, the door opened and Nora ducked out. She took two steps in my direction before looking up. When she did she froze in her tracks, letting out a tiny yelp.