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Alessia tells him.
“Hmm… All good people. You’ll do fine. I know it. Have you told your mother? She’ll be thrilled. We’ve spoken often, though her English is not as good as yours.”
Alessia grins, thrilled that they have been in touch with each other. “No. I will call her now.”
“Well, good luck, my dear. Let me know how you get on and when I can see you again.”
Next, she calls her mother to share her news.
* * *
At my conference table, Caroline talks Oliver and me through her moodboards and designs, and it’s clear she’s put a great deal of thought into her process. The first option is opulent but elegant; the second, upscale, warm but airy; the third, bold but minimalist. I have to admit, they’re all quite different but clever. Caro has excellent taste.
“I think I prefer the second option.” It’s not the most expensive, but not the cheapest either. I glance at Oliver to see if he’s on the same page.
“I concur,” Oliver says, nodding.
“Good. Let’s do it. I’ll crack on.” Caroline preens.
“Great. If you’ll excuse me.” Oliver rises from the table and leaves.
Caroline watches him go with a frown. She turns back to me. “So, how was Cornwall? How did Alessia fit in?”
“Great. Thanks. It was cool to be back. Alessia was and is amazing. Helped with lambing.”
“Hmm… really?” Caro frowns.
Ignoring her reaction, I continue, “Yes. She knew exactly what to do. In fact, she wants to return to Cornwall as soon as possible. I think she’s more comfortable at the Hall.”
“Why wouldn’t she be? She’s waited on hand and foot, and it’s very rural.”
“Actually, she’s not waited on hand and foot,” I snap. “And what do you mean by that?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Maxim. Give your hackles a rest. I think she’s a little daunted by London life, that’s all. And who wouldn’t be? She does seem to attract a great deal of attention when she’s here. It’s not a surprise,” Caroline mutters and begins to pack her portfolio away.
Rather than provoke an argument, I change the subject. “I’m going to sell Kit’s car collection. Are there any that you’d like to keep?”
She pauses mid-packing as if considering the option, then shakes her head. “No. That was Kit’s thing. Not mine.”
“You’re sure?”
She nods. “I should move out of the countess’s rooms,” she adds, a little sadly.
“There’s no hurry. We’ve not moved from my room.”
“Oh.” She raises her eyebrows.
See, Alessia’s not the mercenary little social-climbing, point-scorer you think, Caro!
“So, what’s on the agenda while you’re here?”
“I don’t know how long we’re going to stay. Alessia has auditions at the RCM, RAM, Guildhall, and somewhere else. I can’t remember.”
“All of them!”
“Yes. She’s talented. And she needs to be offered a place so I can secure her a visa. Otherwise, she’ll have to return to Albania for a month or so. And neither of us want that.”
Caroline rolls her eyes. “For heaven’s sake. It’s not like she’s going to be sponging off the state. I don’t know why it’s so difficult.”
I sigh. “Me neither. It’s the Hostile Environment that our government thinks we need. It’s extremely bloody irritating.”
“Agreed.” She grabs her portfolio and rounds the table, only to stop in her tracks as she spies Kit’s journal on my desk.
Hell. I should have put it away.
She pales instantly. Her cheeks ashen. “You found it,” she says in a small voice that speaks volumes.
“Yes. It was in a locked drawer in Kit’s desk at the Hall.”
She turns her face to mine, her eyes wide and fearful, and growing larger and darker as the seconds tick by—and we gaze at each other as the air is slowly sucked from the room by the weight of this small battered leather tome. By the weight of Kit’s final written words.
“Say something,” she whispers.
“What is there to say, Caro?” I shrug. This is none of my business.
“You’ve read it?”
I open my mouth and close it again.
“Maxim. Tell me!”
And I know she’ll hound me until she has the truth.
“You did. I can tell. I can always read you.”
Fuck. “The last entry.”
She swallows. “What did it say?” Her words are barely audible.
There’s a knock at the door, and Oliver opens it, radiating polite smiles and fucking good cheer as he ushers Alessia inside. My spirits soar as she walks into the room. My wife is the cavalry, saving me from a beyond-awkward conversation.
“Am I interrupting?” Alessia asks, not unkindly.
“No. Of course not.” Delighted, I step toward her and kiss her lightly on her lips. Everyone else disappears. “How was it?”
She shrugs but smiles. “I don’t know. We shall see. I like your office.” She looks around me. “Hello, Caroline,” she says sweetly.
“Alessia, darling. How are you?” Caroline seems to recover her fortitude and steps forward to give my wife a kiss on each cheek.
Oliver has left the room.
