sarcasm that I’d never heard Abbey use.
‘You might mean that when you hear I’ve persuaded Gaynor to cut that unsavoury scene from tomorrow night’s show.’
Was he bonkers? That was good telly. ‘Um, Teddy…’
He scowled.
‘Edward… That’s just the sort of footage that makes a reality show – according to my lodger, Gemma,’ I hastened to add. ‘She’s a big fan of that genre. From what I can gather, it’s the dramatic bits that gain viewers. It’s not a serious illness and my, um, medication helps. Don’t edit it out on my behalf.’
‘I didn’t, Abigail. It’s to uphold the family reputation.’
‘It’s Abbey,’ I said, meeting his scowl.
‘Throughout history, Croxley women have been strong,’ he said and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘They are stoic in the midst of war, resourceful during economic downturns, uncomplaining in the face of disease…’ His voice wavered. ‘You only had to see the way my mother carried herself during her last months. It does our image no good to have you drop to the floor because you… you felt out of sorts.’
It could have been some serious brain condition, for all he cared. Yet my fists didn’t curl for long as I reminded myself that I had been acting, plus I’d noticed how the mention of his mum made his chin give a teeny wobble.
‘You must miss the Countess terribly,’ I said. ‘When did she…?’
‘Die?’ His body stiffened. ‘I’m sorry that part of our family history has slipped your memory. Or perhaps your father never found it important enough to explain.’
Of course—Abbey would have at least known that. Urgh. Poor bloke. My stomach twisted really tight.
‘No… I mean…’ I cleared my throat. ‘I was just going to ask: when did she first receive the diagnosis?’ I guessed she’d had the Big C. ‘Father didn’t give me many details and, as you know…’ blagging for my life, here ‘… with the estrangement between our parents, attending the funeral proved to be, sadly, quite impossible.’
‘Granted.’ His cheek twitched. ‘From start to finish, the cancer took three years to take her from Father and me. Two years next month she’s been gone. Mother was only fifty-five.’
A lump rose in my throat as Edward’s eyes looked all dull. Wow. How tragic. Nowadays, fifty-five was like the new forty. And if anyone knew what life was like without a mum it was me.
‘How old was she when your parents married?’ I tucked a loose dyed blonde curl behind my ear. The Earl must have been a right sugar daddy.
‘Twenty-three, I think. Father was forty-two.’
We sat in silence for a few seconds, before I rummaged in my handbag.
‘My hairbrush—it was in here earlier…’ I must have looked a right mess and totally unladylike. With a sigh, I pulled out all the pins, and locks of hair dropped around my face. Lady C would not have been impressed.
‘Here,’ said Edward in a gruff voice as he approached and slipped an elastic band from his wrist. He sat on the bed, turned me away from him and deftly twisted my hair at either side before tying it all together at the back with the elastic band.
‘Um…thank you so much,’ I said and turned back to him, wondering why tingles ran up and down my spine.
‘I used to do that for Mother,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘Especially at the end, when she was bed-bound.’ He stood up and cleared his throat. ‘Kathleen will be up in a minute. Please be in formal dress and downstairs for seven sharp at the latest. Viscount Hamilton-Brown and his family will be here at six-thirty for drinks.’ The door shut behind him.
What an oddball he was – one minute so gentle, the next abrupt and stand-offish.
I leapt off the bed to gaze out of the window. My bedroom was at the back of the house and looked down onto the cutest courtyard with fancy flower pots and intricate metal benches. Jean stood in the ornamental gardens, weeding flower beds. Nick was further away, working in a
‘You might mean that when you hear I’ve persuaded Gaynor to cut that unsavoury scene from tomorrow night’s show.’
Was he bonkers? That was good telly. ‘Um, Teddy…’
He scowled.
‘Edward… That’s just the sort of footage that makes a reality show – according to my lodger, Gemma,’ I hastened to add. ‘She’s a big fan of that genre. From what I can gather, it’s the dramatic bits that gain viewers. It’s not a serious illness and my, um, medication helps. Don’t edit it out on my behalf.’
‘I didn’t, Abigail. It’s to uphold the family reputation.’
‘It’s Abbey,’ I said, meeting his scowl.
‘Throughout history, Croxley women have been strong,’ he said and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘They are stoic in the midst of war, resourceful during economic downturns, uncomplaining in the face of disease…’ His voice wavered. ‘You only had to see the way my mother carried herself during her last months. It does our image no good to have you drop to the floor because you… you felt out of sorts.’
It could have been some serious brain condition, for all he cared. Yet my fists didn’t curl for long as I reminded myself that I had been acting, plus I’d noticed how the mention of his mum made his chin give a teeny wobble.
‘You must miss the Countess terribly,’ I said. ‘When did she…?’
‘Die?’ His body stiffened. ‘I’m sorry that part of our family history has slipped your memory. Or perhaps your father never found it important enough to explain.’
Of course—Abbey would have at least known that. Urgh. Poor bloke. My stomach twisted really tight.
‘No… I mean…’ I cleared my throat. ‘I was just going to ask: when did she first receive the diagnosis?’ I guessed she’d had the Big C. ‘Father didn’t give me many details and, as you know…’ blagging for my life, here ‘… with the estrangement between our parents, attending the funeral proved to be, sadly, quite impossible.’
‘Granted.’ His cheek twitched. ‘From start to finish, the cancer took three years to take her from Father and me. Two years next month she’s been gone. Mother was only fifty-five.’
A lump rose in my throat as Edward’s eyes looked all dull. Wow. How tragic. Nowadays, fifty-five was like the new forty. And if anyone knew what life was like without a mum it was me.
‘How old was she when your parents married?’ I tucked a loose dyed blonde curl behind my ear. The Earl must have been a right sugar daddy.
‘Twenty-three, I think. Father was forty-two.’
We sat in silence for a few seconds, before I rummaged in my handbag.
‘My hairbrush—it was in here earlier…’ I must have looked a right mess and totally unladylike. With a sigh, I pulled out all the pins, and locks of hair dropped around my face. Lady C would not have been impressed.
‘Here,’ said Edward in a gruff voice as he approached and slipped an elastic band from his wrist. He sat on the bed, turned me away from him and deftly twisted my hair at either side before tying it all together at the back with the elastic band.
‘Um…thank you so much,’ I said and turned back to him, wondering why tingles ran up and down my spine.
‘I used to do that for Mother,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘Especially at the end, when she was bed-bound.’ He stood up and cleared his throat. ‘Kathleen will be up in a minute. Please be in formal dress and downstairs for seven sharp at the latest. Viscount Hamilton-Brown and his family will be here at six-thirty for drinks.’ The door shut behind him.
What an oddball he was – one minute so gentle, the next abrupt and stand-offish.
I leapt off the bed to gaze out of the window. My bedroom was at the back of the house and looked down onto the cutest courtyard with fancy flower pots and intricate metal benches. Jean stood in the ornamental gardens, weeding flower beds. Nick was further away, working in a
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