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“Caro, I don’t know what to think. But Alessia and I are fine. Stop inter-fucking-fering, or there will be consequences.”
She bristles but stays silent, and I know she said something to Charlotte.
“And what’s with you and Oliver?” I ask to change the subject.
“What do you mean?” she snaps.
“I don’t know, but there’s some weird energy between you.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. You’re coming across all woo-woo. I’d better go and get on with this work.” She stands. “Let me know if you hear from Rowena.”
* * *
“And that’s a wrap for today, ladies,” Jennifer says. “Tomorrow, we’ll be covering communication. Everything from texting to writing letters. Thank you for your time and attention today.” She smiles, and Alessia almost sags with relief but stops herself as she’s endured a whole afternoon of deportment lessons and learned about correct posture.
“I am desperate for a drink,” Tabitha hisses beside her. “Please say you’ll come.”
“Um…” Alessia is hesitant. This is a first for her—a stranger asking her to come for a drink. But she likes Tabitha. A woman her own age. Maxim won’t mind.
Will he?
“Don’t tell me you have to get back to your husband, Alessia.”
“How did…?”
“Your ring. I assumed you were married. But you seem awfully young to be wed.”
Alessia smiles. “In my country, it is normal to marry young.”
“Tell me all over a drink! Please.”
* * *
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Maryanne. Finally.
I’m in Seattle.
Will text when home.
Are you okay?
No. Still reeling from dear
Mama’s revelations.
Here for some R&R.
How did you get the time off?
Skillz!
What! Her response makes me laugh. It’s a most un-Maryanne text. But I’m glad that she’s still speaking to me and that she’s getting some rest. Has she gone to see that guy she met when she went skiing? I daren’t ask.
Enjoy yourself.
Oh. I am.
Are you okay?
Of course.
Maxie, it was you all along.
Not Kit.
What?
The earldom.
It was yours.
My scalp prickles.
It was me all along.
I was the viscount. Then the earl.
Not Kit.
That’s hard to hear.
I know
But it was you, Maxie.
It was always you.
Remember that.
Poor Kit. Finding out like that.
He must have been furious.
Yes. I can’t stop thinking about that.
I wonder what he had.
What he had?
His genetic condition.
Something awful, I suspect.
I don’t want to know.
Poor man.
Yes. Maybe you’re right.
We loved him.
We did.
I’ll be back later this week.
We can talk then.
I’ve got to get up.
We’re going sailing on a super-
duper catamaran.
Be safe.
Mx
I blow out a breath. Maryanne is still speaking to me, unlike my mother. And she’s focused on something that I’ve not thought about. My family has been obsessed with bloodlines since the earldom was created in the 1600s. My mother was driven by legacy too. It was drummed into all of us.
Kit most of all.
How ironic.
And with his death, my mother’s secret has died. And no one need ever know.
She didn’t have to tell us.
She could have claimed that Kit’s genetic issues were all a false alarm. Perhaps Alessia’s right. She’s atoning for her sins.
Her lies.
Hell. I need to talk to her. But after what she said to my dear wife, I’m not sure I want her in our lives.
My phone buzzes again, and I think it might be Maryanne with more pearls of wisdom. But it’s Alessia.
I am going to a bar with a woman
I met on my course.
I will try not to be late.
Alarm tightens my chest. I’m not sure how I feel about Alessia on the loose in London with a stranger. Caroline’s words from earlier come back to me.
For heaven’s sake, Maxim. She’s a grown woman.
Yes. But she’s led a sheltered, claustrophobic life. I’ve seen it. I lived it for a week.
Sounds great. I’m finished here.
May I join you?
Yes!!
We are at the Gore.
xxxx
* * *
Alessia is fascinated by Tabitha. As they sip gin and tonics, Tabitha divulges that she lives in a castle in Scotland, though Alessia can’t discern a Scottish accent. Tabitha finished her History of Art degree last year at Bristol University and has been on a gap year trekking through Kenya and Tanzania with a friend. It sounds exciting and beyond anything that Alessia’s experienced. Apart from her harrowing journey to England—but Alessia decides to keep that story to herself.
“Oh look, Maxim Trevelyan just arrived, or should I say Maxim Trevethick, now.”
“Oh.” Alessia turns to see Maxim scanning the room.
“I’ve not met him. But my sisters know him. You know. In the biblical sense.”
Alessia’s spirits sink.
“They’re twins.”
Twins!
“I heard he’s married, though I know nothing about the lucky woman who bagged him.”
Maxim spies Alessia, and his face lights up with what she suspects is relief.
“Oh my God, he’s coming over here!”
Alessia turns to Tabitha. “Maxim Trevethick is my husband.”
Tabitha chokes on her gin. “Oh my God.”
“I’m the lucky woman who…um…bagged him.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry. About what I said.”
Alessia gives her a reassuring smile. “His reputation is… extra.”
“Yes. It is!” Tabitha says quickly, her face flushed.
