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It was a good question. ‘Because I don’t understand it. You have parents, siblings... Derwent Manor is an idyllic place to celebrate Christmas—you have everything I was desperate to give Cathy—and yet you say Christmas means nothing to you.’
Every Christmas she’d felt that surge of guilt, wished that Cathy had kind, loving grandparents, thought about the adoptive sister she’d barely known. Rosa... Small blonde Rosa—Etta’s sister, Cathy’s aunt.
‘It doesn’t feel fair.’
There was a silence, and then he picked up a piece of mistletoe, his movements deliberate. ‘Things aren’t always how they seem.’
Before he could elaborate his mobile phone shrilled out and he picked it up.
‘Kaitlin.’
CHAPTER NINE
PHEW. RELIEF HIT him at the sound of his sister’s voice. The last thing he wanted to do was swap Christmas memories with Etta. The obvious choice was to lie and back up the misleading articles the Derwent publicity machine rolled out every so often. Extol the supposed virtues of an aristocratic Christmas complete with family traditions and a sumptuous tree.
But he didn’t want to fib to Etta—not when she clearly had a few Christmas demons of her own lurking...a fact betokened by the wistfulness, sadness and guilt that had skimmed over her expression. Yet the idea of sharing the details of Derwent Christmases didn’t sit well with him—the awkwardness, the stilted conversations, the knowledge that his parents had little to say to their children other than homilies, the lack of joy or fun...
‘Gabe?’
His sister’s voice pulled him back to the present.
‘You OK, Kaitlin?’ It occurred to him how rare it was for him to receive a call from his sister, especially in the past year.
‘I’m fine.’ Her voice was flat. ‘I wondered if I could come back while the fair’s on. Maybe help out?’
‘That would be great. The only reason I didn’t ask you is that Mum and Dad said you wouldn’t be around because you had commitments with Frederick.’
Kaitlin’s romance with Prince Frederick of Lycander was well-documented, and the tabloids were poised, waiting for an engagement announcement.
‘Are you both coming?’
‘Nope. Just me, if that’s OK?’
Gabe frowned. There was an almost desperate undertone to Kaitlin’s voice—a far cry from her usual serenity.
‘Of course it is. This is your home and you can come here whenever you like. You don’t need my permission or anyone else’s.’
Though maybe that wasn’t strictly true—he had little doubt that his parents were as avid as any reporter for news of an engagement, and would barricade Kaitlin from the manor until it came, if necessary. An alliance with royalty would have whetted the Derwents’ ambition.
‘Thanks, Gabe. I’ll
let you know my ETA.’
‘OK. But I should warn you: April Fotherington will be here covering the fair.’
A sigh of resignation travelled over the miles. ‘Please don’t tell her in advance that I’ll be there. I’ll talk to her, but I’d rather do it off the cuff. I don’t suppose you could announce your engagement, or create some sort of diversion? Something to take the heat off me?’
His frown deepened as worry kicked in—his sister usually revelled in the heat of the public’s glare, shone in the spotlight with an even brighter glow than he did.
‘Hold on, Kait. Is there something I should know?’
‘Everything’s fine.’
‘You don’t have to say that.’
‘Yes, I do. I don’t think you’re fine—I don’t even know where you’ve been the past nine months—but you won’t tell me what’s wrong, will you?’
‘No.’
