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“Duty?”
“Yes.” Also, since Lucy has refused to see me since I left her at the hospital, this is going to be my only real chance to get to her.
It’s come to a time where we need to confront her with everything we have and put it on her to refute all the conclusions that it’s drawing to. I want it all to be a mad coincidence, but the longer I look at the dead ends, the more I see all the shit I did wrong.
“I can’t imagine how hard it must be for Laura and Lucy. Makes me feel terrible for being angry at my dad for something that isn’t really his fault.”
We walk through the gates of Egyptian Avenue that lead to the secluded part of the cemetery. The stunning circular trench of tombs lies in front of us, clad in verdant ivy and topped with an ancient cedar that spans the width of the burial chambers. Ferns and hardy flowering bushes are dotted around the place. It’s tranquil for the most part, quiet and sedate with the calling of the birds lighter than that of the crows as we meander the Circle of Lebanon to the one tomb with the intricate roses carved into the stone pillars holding up the lion and the dragon butting our family crest.
“This is so pretty,” she sighs, running her fingertips over the white potted roses. The shrubs are full and bloomed, the sweet, powdery scent reminiscent of her perfume.
Releasing my hand, Georgina moves to trace over the carvings of the flowers on the pillars. I’m not sure whether she’ll catch on, but while she’s tracing my great-grandmother’s bloomed petals, I snap a photo of her on my phone.
“They look like the flowers you sent me. The roses…” She looks back at me over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at my phone.
Slipping the device back into the inside pocket of my suit jacket, I take a few steps closer until her back is pressed to my front. “They’re called Windermere roses.”
“They remind me of the tattoo on Casper’s hand. Really beautiful.”
“Some people call them Guardian Angels because of the way the petals look when they’re fully bloomed, like unfurling wings.”
Looking up at me, Georgina presses a light kiss to the underside of my jaw. “You’re my guardian angel, right? Is that why you sent them, because you protect me at every chance you get?”
“No.” I manage a low laugh for the first time today. It feels good. Even if it doesn’t ease the worries building up inside, it’s a temporary reprieve. Flattening my hand over hers, I tell her, “It’s my flower, and it’s yours too now. Every Lady Emsworth gets their own rose on these pillars. Some are big and some are small, but they all represent the same thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Life, and the reason they’re holding up the crest is because our name wouldn’t be what it is without any of them. We wouldn’t be here without their sacrifices and their lives.”
“How do you know which belongs to who?”
I remember asking my dad the same question when he explained the meaning to me the day of his grandmother’s funeral. “You don’t. As each generation comes and goes, some names are forgotten, but the imprint they leave in our lives…in history remains. One rose doesn’t make an entire bush, just as one person doesn’t make an entire legacy. My father told me that.”
Lifting onto her tiptoes, Georgina tucks her face into the crook of my neck as she turns into my chest, facing me. Her arms coil tightly around my waist as we huddle into the shallow cover of the arch over us.
“It’s not me that’s the guardian angel, Georgina.”
The sight of her stunning doe eyes makes my chest squeeze. Big and burning with a softness that is impossible to resist. While she continues staring up at me, I pick one of the smaller blooms from the shrub, holding the stem between my middle and forefinger as I scrape the thorns off with my thumbnail.
“It’s you,” I tell her, pushing the rose into her hair by her left temple before I cup her face. “You’re my guardian angel because you stop all the shit from dragging me under. You keep the darkness from swallowing me completely. It’s why they’re on the pillars out here, because they’re guarding the souls inside.”
“It works both ways, my love,” she murmurs, moulding her hand to mine.
Georgina is a vision with her light creamy skin flushing a soft ruddy pink as she licks over her lips. Dark midnight lashes flutter with the gentle breeze that finds us. Even in the shadow, she is a ray of light that I don’t want to share with anything or anyone.
“The stars shine their brightest when the sky is at its darkest, Freddie. That doesn’t just apply to nature—it’s who we are.”
“You are my star, Swan, and it doesn’t matter how lost I am, you’ll always guide me home. To you. I’ll always find you no matter how fucking dark it gets.”
Although it’s true, I can’t help but wish that this is as dark as it will ever be. I can’t bear the thought of anything more touching her. Still, there’s so much up in the air. All I can be certain of is that it will all rain down on us soon. The storm is coming, and although I can sense it, there’s no certainty of when or how it will hit. All I know is that I’ll die before I let it devastate her.
Chapter 25
GEORGINA
From the second we walk into the Stantons’ home, there’s an overwhelming murkiness that surrounds me. Maybe it’s that I’m taken aback by how familiar Freddie is by the surroundings, or it’s just the day itself. I wasn’t expecting Karen to send me an invite through the post, and it’s made it all the more difficult to accept that I didn’t do anything wrong. Even if the logical part of me keeps reminding me that the accident was nothing to do with who I am, there’s still a part of me that thinks that had he gone straight to the academy instead of Casper’s house, the outcome would be different.
“There you are.” Arabella smiles, her eyes rounding as she focuses on the rose in my hair when we find the others outside in the garden. “Are you doing okay?”
