Suspicion

by Alexandra Monir

  This time I have a better idea of what to wear, and I choose a casual white sundress with klutz-proof black flats. After getting dressed, I slip quietly out of the manor, holding my breath that I won’t run into Mrs. Mulgrave or Maisie. They are the last people I want knowing where I’m going, and luckily I make it outside without anyone but Oscar seeing me.

  Alfie is already waiting in the Aston Martin when I step outside. I settle into the backseat, leaning my head against the window as we begin the hour-long drive to Windsor. We make our way south along the river Thames until we reach a town that looks straight out of a Brothers Grimm fairy tale, with an enormous medieval castle looming high above cobbled streets and ancient storefronts below.

  “There it is. Windsor Castle,” Alfie says reverently. “Would you believe it’s more than nine hundred years old?”

  “That is seriously old.” I whistle under my breath. “Is the Queen in there right now?”

  “No, she’s summering at Sandringham. But Windsor is one of the homes closest to her heart.”

  Alfie proceeds into Windsor Great Park, a breathtaking expanse of lush green meadow that stretches on for miles, bordered by horse trails and byways, and dotted with ancient oak trees, stone cottages, and exclusive gated estates. At last we arrive at the vast Smith’s Lawn, home of the Guards Polo Club. Alfie insists on escorting me up the stands to meet Theo, and while I’m slightly embarrassed, I don’t argue. This place is so huge, I can picture myself easily getting lost.

  Alfie leads the way up the stands to Theo’s row, and I keep my head down as flashbulbs go off in our direction. I should have expected them—Alfie’s uniform with the Rockford logo is a dead giveaway. But I relax once I see Theo’s dimpled grin.

  “Hi there, Imogen!” he calls out, standing upon my arrival.

  “Hey, Theo.” I give him a quick hug.

  “I’ll leave you two to the game,” Alfie says with a bow. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Stanhope.”

  After bidding Alfie goodbye, Theo and I settle into our seats.

  “It’s been a minute since I saw you last,” he says, stretching an arm across the back of my seat. “You’ve been spending your free time with my brother, I gather.”

  I glance down self-consciously.

  “I know. We—we’re taking the same summer class at Oxford.”

  “It hasn’t started yet,” Theo reminds me. There’s a slight edge to his voice, but he flashes me a grin, as if saying, Relax. This is just typical, easygoing banter.

  “Right, but Sebastian is helping me get caught up,” I lie. “Since my curriculum in America was different.”

  I’m not sure what prompts me to make up the story; it just slips out.

  “Can I ask you something?” Theo peers closely at me. “How is Sebastian?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, caught off guard. “Wouldn’t you know better than me?”

  “Yeah, I just … wondered what you thought. I guess because—well, it’s been a tough year.”

  I glance down at the ground.

  “Of course. He seems like he’s handling it all pretty well, though.”

  Theo nods, a look of relief in his eyes. I wait for him to say more, but he shifts gears, chatting about the opposing team and filling me in on their high-goal players. I’m only half paying attention, the other half of me busy wondering what that exchange was all about.

  The match begins. My stomach does a flip-flop as Sebastian rides onto the field, more handsome than ever in his Oxford uniform. I hear wolf whistles and cheers coming from a group of girls in the stands beneath us, and I exchange an amused look with Theo.

  “They’re called Stick Chicks,” he explains with a laugh. “Polo groupies.”

  “Oh.” I glance back at the girls, suddenly noticing how perfect their bodies are, how glamorous they look in their curve-hugging ensembles. Sebastian could have his pick of any of them. It’s a depressing thought, even though I already know he’s off-limits.

  But then I see him scanning the crowd, searching for someone. Our eyes meet and his lips turn up in a smile. I grin back, color flooding my cheeks. I can feel Theo watching me and I know I should play it cooler, but I can’t seem to stifle my smile—not even after the game has begun.

  Theo suggests we toast Sebastian’s winning match at the Old Ticket Hall, a bar and live music venue nearby. Sebastian manages to extricate himself from the admiring Stick Chicks and disappears into the locker room, returning in dark denim jeans and a button-down shirt under a black vest. Watching him, I can’t help wishing he weren’t so ridiculously good-looking. If only he’d grow a crazy unibrow, or do something to take the edge off my attraction.

  The three of us jump into a black cab, and after a quick drive through Windsor Great Park and into town, we arrive at the Old Ticket Hall, located on a quaint street, with revelers spilling out the doors. Sebastian leads the way inside, miraculously finding us the one remaining booth. I slide in beside him, with Theo following me.

  “What are you drinking?” Sebastian asks.

  “Well, considering the drinking age is a lot older in my part of the world, I don’t have much experience with booze,” I admit. “How about you pick something out for me?”

  “We’ll make it a Pilsner, then,” Sebastian decides. “That’s a good starter beer.”

  When our drinks arrive, I raise my glass.

  “To another win for Oxford,” I say, smiling at both of them. “And to old friends.”

  We clink beer mugs, and I take my first sip. The Pilsner tastes bitterer than I expected, and I can’t help making a face.

  “Water, please!” I call out to a passing waitress as Sebastian and Theo burst out laughing.

  “Don’t give up on Pilsner just yet,” Theo says with a gentle nudge. “It’ll taste better once you get used to it.”

  “Ugh. Okay, let me try again.” I take another swig, which tastes just as gross as the first. But by my fourth sip, it tastes almost … sweet.

  “It’s got a cookie flavor!” I exclaim, slamming my mug down onto the table like I’ve seen people do in the movies.

  “Whoa, someone’s already tipsy,” Sebastian chuckles. “Good thing I only ordered a half pint.”

  Half an hour later, my mug is nearly drained and I’m positively giddy. The conversation flows easily, and I keep bursting into fits of laughter over Sebastian and Theo’s dry British humor.

  When I hear the sound of a jazz band starting their instruments, I sit up excitedly.

  “Come on. Let’s go to the dance floor!”

  Theo wrinkles his nose.

  “But it’s jazz night.”

  “Music is music,” I tell him seriously, as if saying something deeply profound. I grab each of their hands and pull them to their feet. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

  The musicians in the trio give us grateful smiles as we approach the stage. We seem to be their only audience—all the other clubgoers are steadfastly ignoring the music, continuing to talk and laugh loudly among themselves.

  “Who wants to dance?” I ask tipsily.

  Theo steps back, smiling awkwardly. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “You, then.” I grab Sebastian’s hand.

  “How does one dance to jazz, anyway?” he wonders.

  “Like this.”

  I place his arms around my waist and wrap mine around his neck. His touch only escalates my exhilaration, and it takes all my self-control to not blurt out my feelings then and there, as we dance to the rhythmic lull of a saxophone, piano, and guitar.

  “I never knew until now that I actually like jazz,” I murmur in Sebastian’s ear. He grins down at me.

  As the trio amps up their song, getting into a more swinging section of the piece, we kick our amateur moves up a notch. Sebastian twirls me around, even dipping me at one point, and we draw closer together, flushed and laughing.

  The song ends, and the saxophonist puts down his instrument, picking up an accordion instead.

  “
Ooh. Wonder what he’s up to with that?” I nudge Sebastian in the ribs.

  The guitarist leans into the microphone and begins to sing slowly.

  “The falling leaves drift by the window,

  The autumn leaves of red and gold.

  I see your lips, the summer kisses,

  The sunburned hands I used to hold.”

  The singer’s raspy, haunting voice tugs at my chest. Sebastian’s arms return to my waist, and I lean against him as we sway to the music. The accordion joins in on the chorus, and it is so beautiful, so heart-wrenching, that everything else in the room seems to fade away until there is only me, Sebastian, and the song.

  “Since you went away, the days grow long,

  And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song.

  But I miss you most of all, my darling,

  When autumn leaves start to fall.”

  My eyes meet Sebastian’s, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. This song could be about us, about the summer we said goodbye. He leans in closer, and my heart skips a beat. Is he … going to kiss me? But then I see him looking somewhere beyond me, his jaw tensing.

  “My brother doesn’t look too happy. I wonder if he wishes he were in my place right now.”

  “Oh—but he’s the wrong brother.”

  I blurt the words out before realizing what I’m saying, and then I clap my hand over my mouth in horror. Did I just admit my feelings? In the middle of a bar? Sebastian stares at me, his green eyes wide. Apparently I did.

  The song ends, and I hurry back toward Theo, my cheeks burning. For the rest of the night Sebastian and I make a valiant effort to pretend I didn’t say anything. But the words linger, taking up space between us.

  I return home that night to find Teddy furiously barking outside my bedroom door.

  “What is it, Teddy?” I bend down to give him a hug. He jumps up, his paws on my legs, nodding his head toward my room. And then I smell smoke.

  Instantly sobered up, I throw open my bedroom door. The wastebasket beside my desk is glowing, with flames climbing its sides, threatening to spill onto the carpet and set the room ablaze. I whirl around in a panic, my eyes searching for a glass of water. But there is nothing, and time is running out fast.

  I move closer to the wastebasket. Teddy gnaws at the hem of my dress, trying to pull me back to safety, but I shoo him away. I’ve never done anything like this before—but if there was ever a time my Elemental skills could come in handy, it’s right about now.

  I place my palms over the fire, focusing my mind on the image of water. But nothing happens, and Teddy’s barking grows increasingly frantic as I wave my hands over the wastebasket like some kind of wannabe wizard. What am I doing differently? Why isn’t the gift working? What am I missing this time?

  My mind flashes back to the Shadow Garden years ago, to the pangs of envy in my stomach as I watched Sebastian and Lucia before growing a flower with my hands. I recall the overpowering grief spilling out of me the night I created the ball of fire, the desperate yearning for my mother a few weeks ago when I grew a rose, my longing for Sebastian when I changed the colors in the Maze. Heightened emotion. That must be the trigger to my gift.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing my thoughts away from the fire in this room and back to the nightclub in Windsor. Swaying in Sebastian’s arms, my head nestled beneath his chin, our faces nearly meeting—

  My eyes fly open as the sizzling sensation returns to my hands. I watch in awe as tiny cracks begin to form in my fingertips—and water comes sprouting from them.

  Teddy howls in shock as I move my hands over the wastebasket, the water from my fingers extinguishing the fire, until all that remains is a smoky aftermath. Teddy leaps into my arms, licking my face in relief.

  “We’re okay, buddy. We’re okay.” I hold his furry little body close, and after setting him down, I stare at my hands in wonder. They’ve returned to normal, the cracks are gone. What I’ve just done is completely insane … but also a miracle.

  I lean over to peer into the wastebasket, which is filled with discarded papers—and a match. I stare at it with a jolt of panic. I certainly didn’t put the match in there. Did someone deliberately try to set my room on fire?

  I hear a knock at the door and stiffen, expecting Maisie. But to my relief, I find Oscar standing outside, clad in a robe and slippers.

  “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, but I heard all the barking and I thought—” He breaks off. “Is that smoke?”

  “Yes, it is.” I lead Oscar to the wastebasket, conscious of my body trembling. “I think someone tried to set a fire in here. I suggest you question Mrs. Mulgrave and Maisie immediately.”

  But Oscar can find no evidence that the Mulgraves had anything to do with the fire. The next day one of the housemaids, Betsy, comes to find me at afternoon tea, her face splotchy with tears.

  “Your Grace, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am! I lit the fireplace in your room last night so it would be nice and warm when you got home, and I—I suppose I must have dropped the match without realizing? I had no idea, and I am so awfully sorry. To think what might have happened …” Her voice breaks off as she bursts into fresh tears.

  “It’s okay, Betsy,” I assure her. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  I’m definitely not convinced she was the one to drop the match anyway; my money is still on Mrs. Mulgrave or Maisie. One of them could have easily gone in and put the lit match in the wastebasket, knowing it would be blamed on Betsy. But without proof, there’s nothing I can do. I’m forced to work alongside Mrs. Mulgrave in preparation for the Rockford Fireworks Concert while my suspicions continue to grow.

  I wake up on the morning of the concert nauseous from nerves. My first event as hostess means having to meet countless new people, with all eyes on me, watching and judging whether I’m fit to be the face of Rockford Manor. At the same time, Sebastian and Theo are planning to attend with their parents, and I’m anxious for Sebastian’s return to Rockford to go smoothly—and for my beer-laced admission to be forgotten.

  The house is a sea of activity from the moment I get out of bed. The caterers have arrived and taken over the kitchen, while the orchestra follows on their heels and files outside to set up their bandstand. On the South Lawn beneath the Fountain Terrace, I find handymen laying a dance floor atop the grass, while footmen line the garden with buffet tables and set up smaller dining tables and chairs. The Fountain Terrace and the Rose Garden are strung with lights, while across the lake, the fireworks operators set up their aerial devices. Oscar and Mrs. Mulgrave are at the helm of the operation, surveying the work and calling out orders.

  “Is there anything I can do?” I offer, making my way over to them.

  Mrs. Mulgrave just stares at me, her dark gaze giving me the uneasy feeling that she knows I accused her of the fire. I quickly shift my focus to Oscar.

  “Thank you, Your Grace, but I believe we have it all under control,” Oscar says kindly.

  “I guess I’ll start getting ready then,” I say, feeling a bit useless. “Everything looks amazing.”

  I take my time doing my hair and makeup, all too aware of the many photos that will be taken tonight. Maisie knocks on my door offering to help, but I tell her I prefer to get ready alone. Ever since the Stanhopes’ dinner, I don’t exactly trust her.

  As I slip on my first couture dress, a red knee-length Alexander McQueen, I feel the sudden, unexpected sense of belonging in this role. Glancing in the mirror, I realize that I look like an actual duchess—and for the first time, I feel like one too.

  The first guests arrive at four o’clock, and before long the lawn and gardens are filled with Wickersham locals, the children playing organized games in the Rose Garden, while their parents sip champagne and feast on hors d’oeuvres. I stand under a flower arch Max built for the occasion, greeting each guest, shaking hands and smiling until I think my cheeks might fall off. Though it’s definitely tedious, I find I’m happy. Everyone is so sw
eet and excited to meet me that I feel humbled, and grateful to be here.

  As the hour reaches six, I spot a familiar group heading toward me. My stomach flutters as I watch Sebastian’s confident stride. He is gorgeous in his suit, and I’m reminded of one of Carole Marino’s favorite phrases: “too handsome for his own good.”

  “You’ve done a beautiful job,” Lady Stanhope says, after we exchange greetings. “Rockford looks magnificent.”

  “Oh, well, I didn’t have much to do with it,” I admit. “It’s great to see you all.”

  I glance at Sebastian, and he gives me a grin that makes my heart leap. Maybe my words at the pub haven’t ruined things between us after all.

  Dinner is served, at seven, and I’m finally able to give my feet a rest. I join the Stanhopes’ table, making shy conversation with his parents and joking around with Theo—but Sebastian is quiet. I imagine he must be seeing visions of Lucia everywhere he looks, remembering past fireworks concerts here with her, and the thought brings an ache to my chest. At one point, Mrs. Mulgrave and Maisie walk together past the lawn, and I watch as they both stop and stare at Sebastian. Are they, too, recalling memories of him and Lucia together?

  At last, it’s time for the main event. The guests make their way toward the lake for the best view of the fireworks, while the band starts up a rousing rendition of “Rule Britannia.” And that’s when I feel Sebastian gently take my hand.

  I turn around, suddenly short of breath as I look up at him.

  “Come with me?” he asks.

  I can do nothing but nod. No one seems to notice as we drift away from the crowd, finding a hiding place beneath a tall oak tree on the opposite side of the lake. We’re close enough to see the fireworks, but too far away to be heard.

  “I’m not sure where to begin,” he says, the moonlight casting a glow against his green eyes. “I’ve been wondering for two days now, and I just had to come out and ask you.… Did you mean what you said the other night?”