Page 36 of Cruel Dynasty

I continued down the lane, pausing at the end with no clue which way to turn. Not only because I had no idea where I was, but also because I had no place in this world. I didn't know what direction I was heading. I didn't know where I would land two months from now or a year or even tomorrow. I couldn't return to the woman I was only months ago. I wasn't sure I could even return to the woman I was this morning.

Taking out my mobile, I dialed Eliza, hoping she wasn’t at work. It didn't ring but went straight to voicemail.

“Hey girl, just checking in,” I said as the first tears swelled up my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay even as I continued, “Just give me a call back.”

I hung up before I broke down. The last thing I wanted was for Eliza to worry about me.

I just wanted someone to talk to, but I had no one. No friends. No one I could confide in or ask for help.

And then a completely mental, but possibly brilliant, thought occurred to me. Reaching for my bag, I dug around until I found the scrap of paper from the night before. I stared at the number for a moment, wondering if I could trust him. In the end, I decided that a man with his family was probably pretty good at keeping secrets. At least, I hoped he was.

Edward met me at the end of the drive to Harewood house. He waved as I parked the McLaren and turned off the engine. A charming smile overtook his handsome face. He was good-looking in a boyish way. There was something of perpetual youth about him. Maybe it was his curly black hair or the sparkle in his eyes that tragedy hadn't dimmed. But there was something about him that made him feel like a friend.

“You called,” he said, coming to help me out of the car.

“I hope that's okay.” I bit my lip. It'd taken more than a little courage to actually dial his number. He was royalty, after all. But not only had he invited me over straight away, he'd even helped me figure out how to use the bloody navigation in the McLaren so I could figure out where I was.

“I'm glad you didn't get lost.” Our feet crunched along the rocky drive as we made our way to the house.

“I think it took me twice as long as it should,” I confessed with a laugh. “That's what I get for driving around in a place I don't know.”

Edward tilted his head, confusion clouding his eyes. “I thought you'd been to Yorkshire before. Beatrice mentioned you two used to come up here when you were in school.”

“Yes,” I said quickly, searching for a way to cover my error. “I just never drove then. It's funny how strange a place feels when you're the one in charge.”

“I can't say I know,” Edward said grimly.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” I wasn't entirely certain what I had said, but he waved off my apology.

“It's nothing. Welcome to Harewood.”

I thought Welbatten and Hensley were impressive, but I'd never stepped foot into a royal residence before. Harewood was a Jacobean masterpiece. Ivy clung to the brick walls in thick patches that draped romantically over leaded windows. I spied beautiful gardens around the side of the estate. Edward led me inside where I found myself momentarily struck dumb. I'd seen plenty of art collections between the Belmonds and the Byrds. Even Beatrice's family seemed to have quite the collection. None of them matched what hung in just the entry of Harewood. Within a moment I had spotted a Renoir, a Monet, a Hogarth, and a Waterhouse. The foyer could be a museum.

“Your house is magnificent,” I said breathlessly.

“We have centuries of imperialism to thank for it,” he said dryly. He pointed to a sitting room. “Should we stay inside or would you rather speak more privately?”

There was no sign that anyone but Edward was here, but I knew better. An estate as large as Harewood, owned by the royal family, probably had a small army of people working inside and out.

“Private would be better.” I didn’t plan to tell him everything, but I didn't want to run the risk of someone overhearing. That was how gossip got started.

“I know just where we can go.”

We chatted about Yorkshire and other trivial topics as we made our way out the rear entrance of the house. Edward guided me past a number of hedges and manicured gardens down a paved path until we came to a wrought iron arch covered in more ivy.

“This is my favorite part of this property,” he explained as we passed the arch. As soon as we were through, I understood why. A courtyard, surrounded on all sides by tall hedges was broken by what appeared to be a shallow, stone staircase that led to nowhere. But it wasn’t a staircase. Water trickled down the steps until it reached a pool. Lily pads floated on its surface and I caught glimpses of coy darting around the roots.

“It's so peaceful,” I breathed.

“That's why I love it.” He sounded pleased. “I figured you might need a little peace in your life right now.”

“Is it that obvious?”

He laughed, but it felt flat on my ears, lacking real amusement but containing plenty of sympathy. “Your life seems complicated.”

“It's not supposed to be,” I said quietly. “Everything's being planned for me. There shouldn’t be any complications when it’s all being handled.”

“Tell me about it.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave me a sympathetic smile. “If I'm not being too bold, can I ask you a personal question?”