Page 91 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

Amber’s winged eyes grew large. Her attention fell on my tummy. “Oh my God! Are you pregnant?”

I let out a laugh, despite my rattling apprehension. “No. It’s nothing like that.” I whipped my hand away from my stomach. It would have to be an immaculate conception, if I was. My thoughts zoomed to Zach, but I busied myself with setting up my laptop on the counter.

They both watched me, exchanging questioning looks.

I pulled up images of Bannock House. “I want to show you both something.”

The girls came round to stand either side of me at the counter. They gazed at the laptop screen.

Rowan pointed at the photos. “Isn’t that the place where Ezra’s having his Hogmanay party next week?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And we’re both going,” squealed Amber, not able to conceal her excitement.

“Of course, you are,” I confirmed, my smile shaky. My hands hovered over the mouse.

Rowan frowned. “What is it, Bailey?”

There was a rushing noise in my ears but I carried on. “Do either of you remember a few years back there was that posh girl who was supposed to marry a musician, but he stood her up on their wedding day?”

Rowan furrowed her brow beside me. “Who?”

“You know,” I prompted, mentally willing them to remember, so I didn’t have to spell it out. “She came from an old Scottish family.”

Rowan looked like she was trying to recall her, but was struggling. Then a spark lit up in her eyes. “Oh aye. Now you come to mention it, I think I do remember her. Wasn’t she Lady something or other?”

It felt like we were discussing a stranger, and it was such a weird out-of-body experience.

“Oh, I know who you mean,” erupted Amber. “Wasn’t she the one who was a bit of a party girl?”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “Yeah, she was. She was always photographed at wild parties and rolling out of nightclubs at five in the morning.”

Amber nodded. “That’s right. I think one of the tabloids gave her a nickname. What was it now? Oh yeah! Bollinger Babe, cos she always carried around a bottle of Bollinger champagne. I wonder what happened to her?”

I stood there, cringing into my boots.

Rowan pulled a face. “I bet she hasn’t been reduced to flogging some knock-off perfume on the QVC channel right now.”

Amber agreed. “No doubt Mummy and Daddy will have seen her right.”

This was excruciating, and only served to highlight how far I’d come since then.

“I know what happened to her,” I said in a guilty rush.

Amber leant forward, her two plaits trembling on either side of her expectant face. “Do you? Go on, Bailey. Spill. I love a bit of gossip!”

“Oh God! Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound dismissive or rude,” blushed Rowan. “Do you know her?”

I looked at Rowan and then at Amber. It would be like tearing off a plaster – momentary pain, followed by relief. The words shot out of my mouth, falling over one another. “You could say that.” I studied their expectant faces. “She’s me. I’m her.” My cheeks zinged with heat. “What I mean is, I am… I was her. I’m not Bailey McArthur. Well, I am now, but…” I braced myself. “What I’m trying to say is my full name, my real name, is Lady Anastasia McLaren-Kerr.”

They both gawped at me.

Amber made me jump when she took a step closer, to get a better look at my scarlet face. “Sorry?”

I straightened my back and repeated my name.

Rowan and Amber blinked at me like two confused dolls and then at each other. Then Rowan gathered herself. “Are you joking? You’re … Lady Anastasia?”