Windsor Castle—Maxine had got me in at Windsor Castle. It was such a whirlwind of activity as they had a state visit expected so they wanted me in and out sharpish. They weren’t really in need of the advertising—visitors love anything royal—but they had a new section of the place on display and had decided Good Manors was an effective way to get news out about that.
The news had come at a key moment. I’d vowed to myself I wouldn’t do anything else with Xander until he’d heard my confession. I couldn’t. So I either had to tell him or leave and that wasn’t a decision I’d wanted to make. Having to race off had saved me from that. I was completely absorbed in my visit but even so I found him sneaking into my thoughts all the time. I’d never be able to look at a four-poster bed in the same way for a start, or any kind of large jug.
It was on my last day at Windsor that he rang. The first time I hadn’t been able to answer as I’d been in the middle of some intricate topiary with the head gardener. I had checked the call when we’d finished and sent him a text saying I was busy and if he rang back in the evening I’d be able to answer him. I’d just climbed into the incredibly soft and luxurious bed I was staying in when my mobile rang.
“Hey,” I answered with a smile when I saw his name across my screen. “Sorry I couldn’t answer earlier. I was in the middle of a bush.” I chuckled at my own joke. “How are you?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Xander’s voice was hard and pained.
My stomach sank. “What do you mean?” I asked, even though I was fairly sure I already knew.
“My Uncle Carl rang and told me. I looked it up to be sure. I couldn’t believe you would do something so sleazy. But no, he wasn’t lying. You took that photo of my dad, didn’t you?”
I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair.
“I was going to tell you, Xander—”
“After we fucked. After we connected… After you used me.”
“No.” I sat bolt upright in bed and shook my head. “No, Xander, I didn’t do that. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I didn’t know how to. I didn’t even realize you were Lord Mallard at first.”
“Whatever, India. I thought you were different.” The bitterness in his tone twisted in my heart and tears dripped over my cheeks.
“I’m not like that now. I was stupid and young and easily influenced. Lydia, my editor, told me I needed to do it, that it would be good for my career, and I did it. I did it without thinking and I’ve regretted that every day of my life since.”
“Yeah, whatever.” The venom stung even through the phone line.
“Xander, really, I didn’t want—”
“I don’t care anymore, India. I thought— Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, does it? You’ve trampled all over my trust. Don’t contact me. I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
“No, Xander, please!” I begged. Sobs wracked me, tears cascaded down my cheeks. But the phone went dead. I dropped the mobile out of my hands and buried my face in them instead. Curling into the feather eiderdown, I cried. Hot, bitter tears of regret.
I didn’t sleep properly all night. Every time my tired, achy body slipped into dreamland I saw Xander’s father, his dead eyes staring at me accusingly. I’d totally screwed up. I should have said something earlier. A voice deep inside ranted accusingly at me. I should have stayed away, I shouldn’t have got involved, and I certainly shouldn’t have fallen in love.
* * * *
It was a good job that I’d practically finished everything I needed to before going to bed the night before because I was close to useless in the morning. I took a few photos, every one as lackluster as the last. I pasted on a smile when I said goodbye to the staff who’d become friends over the past few days but the moment I pulled away in the taxi my face fell and I was fighting to hold back the tears again.
Back at my flat, I spent a lot of time staring at my phone, at his number, wondering whether to call. Each time I convinced myself I should—what we’d had was special and I didn’t want to lose that—I’d hover my finger over the Call icon but before I could press it I’d change my mind again. I repeated the same process over and over and over but never called.
I shouldn’t have even engaged with him in the first place. It was surely better for both of us if I left him alone to get on with his life. How could he ever look at me again knowing what I’d done?
I couldn’t concentrate on anything, though. I tried to write up my ideas for the Windsor article, something I liked to do as soon as possible, and I found it tough going. I wrote, though God knew what drivel it was. Each sentence was like poking myself in the eye with a hot needle. I couldn’t even distract myself with my work, something I would normally find easy to get absorbed in. Every word I typed morphed into ‘sorry’ on the screen.
I was sorry—a sorry mess of an individual. With no one to talk to, no one to commiserate with me. It wasn’t often I felt I needed anyone. I was quite happy keeping myself to myself for everyone’s own good really. I should have kept to that way of life, should have ignored the sparks of attraction.
Yes, I’d had the best days of my life with Xander. I’d finally felt complete and even happy but I’d known it would end badly so why had I let it continue?
A second night of fitful sleep made it even harder to concentrate on the Windsor article. I knew I had to get it finished and sent in, though. Maxine would expect it and the last thing I needed was to piss off my boss too. I drank too much coffee and ordered in greasy pizza. The delivery guy looked aghast when I answered the door. Clearly I looked as bad as I felt.
I sat at my desk and tip-tapped at the keyboard, writing and deleting, deleting and writing until I finally had something I was vaguely happy to submit. It wasn’t my best piece, but it was positive and I had some lovely photos to go with it. That was all I cared about.
After I sent it, I crawled back into bed. I didn’t know what time it was, couldn’t be arsed checking, but the sun was fading and I knew I needed sleep. I knew I didn’t want to face anything anymore. I couldn’t. My heart hurt so much that it was numbed to it. I was a shell. Incomplete and crumbling.
* * * *
Xander was yelling at me, his face contorted with anger, his hands fisted by his side. I was scared and crying and I ran. I ran away from Xander and his anger. I was moving so slowly, like the air was grasping my legs and preventing my movement. When I glanced back, Xander was a matter of steps behind but he wasn’t on his own, his father was with him. I screamed and tried to speed up but I couldn’t. I was getting slower, it was getting harder to move.
Filled with anticipatory dread, I glanced over my shoulder, and when I saw what pursued me, I screamed long and loud as the crumbling, rotting zombie corpses of Xander and Lord Mallard reached out and grabbed at me.
When I woke I was drenched in sweat and the bedclothes were twisted and wrapped around me like I’d been wrestling with them. I dragged myself up and into the shower. I closed my eyes as the water beat down on me. Remembered the old-fashioned bath and the promise Xander had made to me to let me bathe in it. I cried, or I tried, but it seemed I had completely dried up. Harsh, dry sobs shook my body and my throat rasped painfully.
Every action seemed to remind me of him and in the end I couldn’t take it anymore. I picked up my car keys, threw on a jacket and left the house. I had to at least attempt to explain properly. To tell him how very sorry I was and to at least try to put things right. It would serve me right if he didn’t forgive me but if I didn’t try I’d never know.
It was a miracle I didn’t get pulled over on my drive to Mallard’s. It wasn’t my best idea. I was anxious and speeding and also still very tired. But somehow I got to the Hall in one piece. I think my guardian angel flopped in a pool of sweat when I scuffed up the gravel on the drive and parked with a screech.
I wasn’t sure where Xander would be, so I headed to the shop where Mary was busy serving a queue of people.
“Oh, India!” she squeaked
happily. “It’s good to see you!”
“You too, Mary. Where’s Xander?” I probably should have stopped for small talk but I didn’t have any desire to do so.
“Oh, I’m not sure, love. He’s been in a right old mood lately. He’ll either be in the office or down with Harriet, I reckon.”
“Okay, thanks, Mary.”
“Don’t go without talking to me properly, okay?” she called as I turned and walked away.
“Okay,” I replied, promptly forgetting the promise. All I was focused on was finding Xander.
I started at the office—he wasn’t there. I went to Harriet and Grace’s but he wasn’t there either. I bumped into Jenny on my way back to the Hall. She greeted me with a hug.
“Do you know where Xander is?” I asked.
“No, I’ve not seen ’im today. He’s been a right grump lately. I dunno what’s up with him.”
“Okay, well, thanks.” I smiled and walked on. I went to check his bedroom, but he wasn’t there. So I acted on an impulse and headed for the library. I was certain I’d found him before I entered the room as I heard noises of renovation. Bangs and cracks and scrapes.
I walked in to see him in blue overalls bending over a set of shelves, a hammer in his hand.
“Hey,” I greeted. Probably should have made sure he’d put the dangerous weapon down first, but I wasn’t thinking.
“What are you doing here?” He scowled at me then looked back to the shelves in front of him. He was attaching a new shelf, to bring it back to useable condition.
“I’ve come to speak to you.” I sighed, shut the door behind me and purposefully strode forward.
“Well, you can go away again. I’m not interested in listening to it, any of it,” he snapped and hit the newly affixed shelf with his hammer. It shook, but didn’t move, give or break.
“Xander, I know you’re angry and I understand why. All I want to do is explain. I’ll go away then and you’ll never see me again. I just need to explain.”
“Jesus, India, why do you have to make this so much harder than it already is?” He shook his head and turned his back to me to look through a beaten red metal toolbox.
I didn’t answer, how could I? I almost left but my sheer bloody-mindedness took over.
“I was twenty-two and really new to the business. I worked freelance for an agent who was cruel and ruthless. I should have told her to stuff it but I didn’t know I could. I thought I needed her, that no one else would employ me. So I stuck with her. She told me the only real money in journalism was for sleaze. She gave me an address, what she expected I would find there and told me to go.
“I did fight back a bit, but the woman convinced me it was for the best. What harm could I really do? And I didn’t know any better. I felt bad taking the photos. It felt wrong, invasive.”
“Why didn’t you stop then?” Xander growled.
“I’ve asked myself that question so many times. I’m still not totally sure but I think the fear of failing kept me going. If I didn’t make it as a journalist then my family would be so disappointed. My mum wanted me to be a vet and I gave up on that. I thought I had to be a journalistic success and Lydia had convinced me that taking those photos was the only way I’d get that.”
“When I found out he’d died so little time after I’d snapped what I snapped I was mortified, more than that. I was distraught, inconsolable. I told Lydia where to stick it and just retired away from the world. I know you don’t care, that my pain was a fraction of what you must have felt—”
“I lost my father, India. He wasn’t the best, but he was the only one I had. And it broke my mother. It left us virtually penniless and in control of this place. You bet you don’t know the pain I felt.” He turned and scowled at me.
“I was sorry, though, Xander, so sorry it nearly broke me. In fact, if it wasn’t for one woman, one woman I never saw again, I’d not be here now.”
He continued to look at me without saying a word.
“I’d moped in my flat for weeks then one day I couldn’t take the guilt anymore. I was going to find somewhere high, throw myself off, end it all. On my way I bumped into someone. A tall lady, blonde hair, in her forties. And I don’t know how she knew or why she chose to say anything but she grabbed my arm and told me not to do it. Life was precious, I should give it a second chance. That no mistake was bad enough to feel that amount of guilt.
“I continued walking but ended up making a circuit of my local area. I went home and started looking for a new job. It was her words—it was the kindness of that stranger that saved my life.”
Xander’s gaze softened, I didn’t know why.
“I was determined to look only for work where I could be a positive influence. That’s how I ended up at Good Manors. I’ve changed. I only do things that positively impact on people now. I never give a bad review. A starkly truthful review sometimes, but I’m never mean. I couldn’t be. I’d never sell anything to a tabloid, I couldn’t. I made a mistake, a big, stupid, idiotic mistake that ended in someone taking his own life. And then I made another mistake by not telling you who I was. But I was scared. I love my job and if I couldn’t have reviewed Mallard’s maybe I’d have been let go. Maxine is like that. She accepts nothing less than the best. And I didn’t want you to hate me. I didn’t want you to send me away.”
“What did the blonde woman look like?” Xander asked and I wondered if he’d really been listening to me.
“Oh, she was pretty tall, elegant. Had a lovely navy blue suit on with a pretty red rose brooch. It sparkled so much I thought it had to be rubies. She had lovely blue eyes too, almost gray. I wonder sometimes if she was an angel.”
“Yeah, she was.” Xander smiled and walked toward me. “That was my mother.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Xander Patrick
“Your mother? Are you sure?” She shook her head in disbelief.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. I remember it clear as day. She’d gone into town to talk to the bank manager, to try and get a loan. We’d decided we were going to try to make Mallard’s into a viable visitor attraction. She was really nervous, because you know, it wasn’t long after Father died and she’d never dealt with that kind of stuff before and I was too young to do it for her.” I smiled. “I’d wanted to go with her but she’d left me in charge of the workmen at the Hall. I was twelve and completely in over my head but I did my best because Mum was depending on me.
“When she came back she told me how nervous she’d been and how she nearly turned back, called it all off but then she met a young girl with dark eyes and a haunted look. She said she knew, just knew, the poor thing was going to do something silly so Mum stopped her, told her not to. That no mistake was that bad. Not to feel guilty. That meeting and the realization in the girl’s eyes gave her the strength to continue on to the bank, to get the loan and make Mallard’s what it is now.”
“That girl…was me?” She quickly vibrated her head from side to side and squinted like she was trying to see exactly what I was saying.
“Yes, that girl was you. Mum wore her favorite navy blue suit that day, and the rose broach with the rubies. She sold it after her meeting at the bank. It kept us going until the loan money came in, that’s why I remember it. “
India’s hand flew to her mouth and tears sprang to her eyes.
“It was your mum. It was Lord Mallard’s wife. And she… She….”
India didn’t need to finish her sentence. My mum saved her life. Told her no mistake was worth feeling that guilty about, gave her the strength to go on. Maybe that was the message I should also give her. I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around her. She buried her face into my shoulder and wept.
I laid my cheek against her hair and let the tears drip down. I wasn’t sure I believed in destiny or fate or any of that but at that moment it did seem like something out there in the universe wanted us to be together.
“I’m so sorry, Xander,” she sobbed. “So very sorry.”
“But it does matter.” She lifted her head and pushed back until just my hands rested on her elbow. “It does matter, Xander. I wronged you and your family and—”
“And what? India, you’ve rescued me. You’ve rescued Mallard’s. We can barely keep up with the visitors now. You helped Harriet give birth, you helped us find Grace.”
“It doesn’t change what I did.” She sighed.
“No, but we all make mistakes, India, and you didn’t kill him. He did that himself. He wasn’t a saint.”
“But no one deserves—”
“India, shut up and let me kiss you.”
She was stunned. I took advantage and kissed her and pushed all emotion inside me through that bridge between us, through our kiss, to show her just how much I needed her.
“Oh, Xander,” she groaned. “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you too,” I whispered against her ear, “so much.”
“I can’t believe this is real.”
“It is,” I replied. “Now, India Grace, come with me. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Where are we going?” she asked as I pulled her down the corridor beside me.
“My room,” I replied.
“Oh,” she blurted.
We hurried along until we reached my room. I threw open the door then pushed it closed quickly, locked it.
“Xander, are you sure—?”
“Very.” I nodded. It still hurt when I thought about it, the betrayal, the way she’d lied, but I wanted her.
“I don’t think I can take it if we—”
I kissed her again, tried to show her how much I wanted her.
“If you don’t want me, tell me.” I stepped back and licked my lips. “But I want you.”
“I want you too.” She gasped and pushed her body against mine, tipping her head for a kiss.
I took her lips and all her whirling emotions and wrapped her up in my arms. I stilled my brain and let my body take control. Pulled off her T-shirt as she scrabbled to undo my overalls. Pinged open her bra when she opened the last button. We worked to get my arms out of the overalls. We were both determined to lose all the barriers between us and stripped off the rest of our clothes quickly, kissing and stroking each other when we could.
Good Manors Page 19