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Will looked at my mother and shrugged. “Investigations are going on as we speak. It’s inconclusive.”
“Well, I want every forensic team in on this, because I’m as sure as fucking certain that Dad did not kill himself,” I said.
Declan nodded. “I’m with Ethan. Who’s leading the investigation?”
“There’s not one specific detective,” my mother said.
“Where was he found?” Declan asked.
“In his apartment,” Will said.
“You’ve known him for years. You can’t accept that he’d do such a thing,” I said.
Will glanced at my mother. Although he always took his cues from her, that action still played on my curiosity.
“It’s uncharacteristic, yes. But he’s been a little down lately. His relationship with Luke was on the rails.”
Declan rose with Theadora. “We’ll appoint our own detective and lawyers to deal with this. Dad would not have killed himself.”
“I need a word,” my mother said to Declan.
Her favourite son had just got hitched to the wrong girl. There was no bitterness on my part, but it meant that now she would pressure me to marry someone with a peerage.
I wasn’t going to marry anyone. Especially now. I couldn’t even be with myself. So why put someone else through that hell? Besides, I'd gone through all types of women, and none had captured my heart. By now, I would have married if I’d been so inclined.
Despite my own misgivings on marriage, I was pleased for my brother and gave Theadora a sympathetic smile to show her my support.
They were loved up, and if there was ever any excuse to marry, then that was it.
It was just me and my sister as I stared down at the floor. Savanah whimpered by my side, making me sadder than ever, when our mother joined us again.
“Well, your brother has brought a commoner into the family.”
“I think that’s hardly an issue compared to Daddy’s death,” Savanah snapped.
“It’s an issue because we have a reputation and name to uphold.”
“Bullshit. We’re hardly the fucking royal family,” I said.
“That’s right.” Savanah nodded. “In any case, look at what Kate Middleton has done for the royals.”
Like Savanah, I was peeved that my mother seemed more stressed by our brother’s choice in wife than our father’s death.
There was only one way to clear my head of this dark cloud, and that was copious alcohol at the Thirsty Mariner. Blending into a crowd of semi-sozzled strangers seemed more appropriate for my grief-stricken state than rubbing shoulders with a designer jacket at some glitzy London bar with my former college pals—all entitled prats looking for pussy and the odd scrape. Public school bullying had followed them into their privileged little banal lives. I just went along with it to be part of a scene, but deep down it disgusted me. I hated violence and that my-lawyer-will-clean-up-my-mess attitude prevalent in that scene.
The pub was in full swing. People everywhere, all chatting and laughing. For a small village, Bridesmere attracted a crowd. I didn’t hang out there often, only when I stayed at Merivale and needed a drink away from the family.
I leaned against the bar and ordered a stout and a shot of whisky. I didn’t recognise anyone there. Most of my former close friends had married and, apart from being invited to all their major milestones like christenings and birthday parties, we rarely caught up for drinks. That suited me. Conversation about Ariel or Jasper’s eating and sleeping habits bored me to tears. Their constant whinging about not having had a shag since the baby was born and that they felt guilty for staring at the nanny’s tits seriously put me off marrying.
There was one person I recognised as I sipped stout, and that was Mirabel Storm. Balancing a guitar on her lap, she was about to perform.
Dressed in a green velvet dress with that long red hair and green eyes, she was a stunner. The older she got, the more beautiful she became. I once had a crush on her, but she hated me. According to Mirabel, I was a shallow, entitled, rich bastard who treated women like toys. Instead of hurting me, her insults gave me a fucking erection.
At least we had a nice moment as eight-year-olds playing with the horses on her father’s farm. The same farm that any minute now was about to turn into my spa destination.
My jaw clenched. That was not a topic for this night. I needed to get drunk, ogle Mirabel, admire those fiery green eyes, sexy curves, and then harness that heartless developer. That thought alone made me want to puke.
I’d had it too easy up to now.
