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Christ, what a night this was turning out to be.
He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Had he done the right thing? He had no idea. He’d chosen not to sabotage the wedding, but it didn’t sit comfortably with his conscience. He didn’t like lawbreakers, and he certainly didn’t like covering up for them.
The landing lights dimmed when the sensors failed to detect any movement, as he stood there motionless, guarding Alex’s bedroom door.
His phone pinged with a message. It was Will, telling him that Poppy had reappeared and was fine. She’d lost track of time in the museum and all was good.
Poppy had managed to hoodwink her father into believing her story, had she? He probably should feel relieved. It was the better outcome in terms of maintaining family harmony, but it didn’t make him feel any less guilty.
He let out another sigh. At least if he stayed hidden away up here, his evening couldn’t get any worse. Then he remembered that Beth was also looking for Poppy.
Before he could call her, a woman’s voice said, ‘What are you doing up here?’
He looked over to see a swaying Connie Lawrence walking towards him, barefooted, her strappy shoes dangling from one hand. Her silver dress was low-cut, and she wore the look of a woman who’d had way too much to drink and had lost all semblance of propriety. Not a good combination.
‘Is that your bedroom?’ she said, zigzagging her way closer, her voice low and sultry.
‘No idea whose room it is,’ he lied. Her level of drunkenness must be bad if she’d forgotten which room her son was staying in.
‘Then why are you standing there? You look like you’re waiting.’ She was in front of him now, leaning in, smelling of wine and perfume. ‘Who are you waiting for?’
‘Just enjoying a quiet moment.’
‘You know what I enjoy?’ she said, pressing herself firmly against his chest, trapping him against the door.
No, and he had no desire to find out. He was just trying to figure out how to extricate himself from her embrace without offending her, when she leant in and kissed him.
Shit.
Okay, this was not good. Not good at all.
With her mouth squashed against his, he gently took hold of her upper arms and was about to manoeuvre her away from him, when a voice said, ‘Mum? What are you doing?’
It was Beth.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
‘Matt?’ Her voice went up an octave when she realised who her mother was kissing. ‘Oh, my, god! Are you for real?’
And he’d stupidly thought his evening couldn’t get any worse.
Chapter Seventeen
Saturday, 8thJune – 1 day till the wedding
Beth stifled a yawn. She was still suffering from a fitful night spent tossing and turning, battling to rid her mind of the image of Matt and her mother kissing. It was the climax to an already awful evening, spent pacifying the hotel staff, policing wayward hens, avoiding overly amorous stags and preventing her mother from chasing Tiffany onto the moors in the hope her nemesis would be eaten by the Baskerville’s hound. As it turned out, it wasn’t Tiffany who needed protecting, it was Matt. Not that he was a victim, far from it. He’d been on the other end of that kiss. He hadn’t exactly been fighting her mother off, had he?
Beth checked herself in the ornate mirror and groaned. ‘I look like a ghost,’ she said, sniffing the grey lace material and getting a waft of mothballs.
‘That’s how you’re supposed to look,’ Megan replied, emerging from the changing room looking like Elizabeth Taylor’s more attractive younger sister. Beth hadn’t expected anything less. They were tucked away at the back of the museum, getting into their fancy dress costumes ahead of a day spent re-enacting thieving piracy and skulduggery. ‘Aunt Patience is described as being ghost-like. A broken woman, bullied and beaten by her wretch of a husband.’ Megan sidled up next to Beth. ‘How do I look?’
‘Bloody gorgeous, and you know it.’ Beth tried not to sound aggrieved.
The image reflected back, of the sisters standing side by side, couldn’t have highlighted their differences more starkly. Megan looked like the screen starlet she was, her dark hair tumbling onto her shoulders like liquid chocolate, her blood-red period gown flattering her slender figure and pale complexion. She looked both feisty and sexy. A contrast to Beth, dressed in an insipid grey ill-fitting itchy gown with unflattering ruffled neckline that made her look like the sad downtrodden abused creature she was supposed to be.
Megan kissed Beth’s cheek. ‘Thank you for organising this, it’s such a fab idea. I love dressing up. And Zac looks so sexy in his Jem outfit, all manly and rugged,’ she said, sounding like the smitten bride-to-be.
Beth raised an eyebrow. Zac was an absolute sweetheart, but rugged he wasn’t. He looked more like Adam Ant in his dandy outfit, complete with guyliner and quaffed hair, than fictional brooding hero. But if he was Megan’s leading man, then that was all that mattered.
