“I spent the next few years throwing myself into my work, my charity and my patronage, and… and other hobbies. I built up the charity and I knew that I wanted to take it a bit further. So, about five years ago, I approached London University and asked them to take me up on an offer of funding a placement and a postgraduate course. And here we are now.”
He looked at Everly, almost as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Do you want to leave?” he asked, biting his bottom lip.
Everly couldn’t sit still any longer, she dropped his hands and threw her chair back as she stood. Rushing to where he sat, she threw her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck. He faltered at first, then she felt his arms wrap around her, his face nuzzling her hair. Tears she hadn’t known were falling dampened his shirt collar, and when Everly straightened she brushed at the damp patches.
“I’m sorry,” she said, although she wasn’t sure exactly what she was sorry for.
Edward smiled, some of the color returning to his cheeks.
“You’re so considerate. You’re so kind. I’m the one who should be sorry. Ruining our evening with my morbid story.”
Everly shook her head.
“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you told me about your history, about your fiancé. As hard as it was to hear, both the fact that you have loved before, and how you had your heart broken. It’s better than having lies between us from the start.”
She sat back down in her chair.
“But it does worry me that your family were so adamant you shouldn’t marry outside of your status. They’re not going to like me, are they? They’re not going to want us to marry?” Her eyes widened. “Not that we’re getting married, of course. I didn’t mean that. Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll stop now.”
A laugh exploded from Edward’s lips, and his eyes once more danced with light.
“Thank you, Everly. That was just what I needed to hear.”
Everly wasn’t sure which bit he was talking about, but she didn’t probe. The waiter approached the table once again, perhaps encouraged by Edward’s laugh. They ordered some food and sat in a comfortable silence as they waited for it to be delivered.
Everly’s mind was alive with so many different feelings, they flocked like starlings and she couldn’t catch a single one of them.
“Everly,” Edward said softly, drawing her back to the gorgeous man sitting opposite her.
“Uh huh?” she smiled.
“I think I may have fallen in love with you.”
And right there, in the Royal Opera House, in the middle of this magical city, her heart burst with happiness.
20
From the sublime to the ridiculous.
Edward was dressed up to the nines—full tuxedo with bowtie, cummerbund, and a handkerchief poking out of his pocket. He had to admit that he looked good in it, but who wouldn’t look good in a suit that was worth more than most people’s apartments? He pulled at the bowtie, trying to loosen its grip from around his neck as he made his way down in the elevator from his penthouse to his awaiting car.
That morning had been misty and grey, but nothing could dampen Edward’s spirit. The evening he had shared with Everly had been so perfect. And she had responded so amazingly to his story of tragedy. He hadn’t meant to offload all of that information quite so early on, but he was glad he had. Everly had offered comfort and support at a time where she was probably feeling vulnerable and emotional. She really was incredibly selfless.
He’d dropped her back at the house after dessert and waited until she was safely inside before doing a little happy dance in the back of the Phantom. There was no way Matt wouldn’t have seen how close his passengers had been when they made their way home, he just had to trust that the driver would be discrete.
Now, though, he had obligations of a far less welcome sort.
Edward knew he had to get tonight out of the way, but he’d made the decision to tell his parents that Everly was an important part of his life whether they liked it or not. He knew his dad had picked the Gantry for a reason, and he was sure it wasn’t their lobster. The Colonel was making a point, that Edward had better do as he was told.
The elevator pinged to announce its destination and Edward trudged into the lobby. Snow was falling outside. It looked pretty as it settled on the steps, but Edward knew it would be treacherous once it had frozen over. Pretty but treacherous, he thought, wondering if the weather was trying to tell him something. He made a mental note to ask the building manager to lay down some grit. Matt was holding the car door open for him, shivering in the cold, and Edward made his way over.
As he sat down on the soft leather seats, inhaling the scent that Everly had left lingering here last night, he knew that focusing on mundane tasks like gritting the steps was only a distraction from the major difficulties he was about to face. Moments like this, thankfully, were few and far between. Edward wished he could have a drink to ease his nerves, but he couldn’t stomach the stuff. He fished around in one of the many cupboards in the car and drew out a bag of boiled sweets. They were his poison, what he liked to indulge in when times were hard. If he wasn’t careful he’d be crunching away his teeth; but anything to help loosen the tightness that paralyzed his jaw.
Matt started the engine and they set off. This time, the car journey passed far too quickly. It seemed as though they were pulling up outside the restaurant in less time than it had taken to click his seatbelt in place. Edward sighed and climbed out, not waiting for Matt to open his door. A rush of blinding lights flashed in his face as he stepped onto the sidewalk, cameras thrust too close for comfort. Edward shook his head at the paparazzi photographers and stepped past them to the door of the restaurant.
Thankful for the wall between himself and the bustling reporters outside, Edward took a deep breath and looked up at the maître d. Only now was he aware that the crowd of paparazzi had been a godsend, because he’d had no time to look to the corner of the street where the accident had happened. No time to think about how he had sat there, with Lacey in his arms, waiting for the ambulance to turn up.
As he looked around the restaurant now he was hit with a deep sense of loss. He drew his chin up, knowing he mustn’t let his father know he was feeling like this. He didn’t want the Colonel to think that he’d won.
The Gantry was an intimate place to dine. Their waiting list was so long because the food was sublime, but also because they had a very limited number of tables. And on a night like tonight they were all pushed together to make one large round table in the middle of the room. Around it, subdued lighting in golds and oranges shone simply on the wooden furniture. It was quite unique. Not brash nor minimalist, it was almost as if he was dining in the personal living room of a man with exquisite tastes.
Edward spotted his parents immediately, although the maître d still made it his job to take Edward over to the table, remove his overcoat and scarf, and pull out his chair.
“Mother, father.” He spluttered the words out in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Lovely evening. Isn’t the snow beautiful?”
He walked over to his mother and kissed her on both cheeks. His father reached over and shook Edward’s hand in his iron grip.
“Snow is a big pain in the…”
His mother gave a look which stopped the Colonel’s words before they spilled out past his moustache. She had never liked his potty mouth. Edward sat down, smiling at his mother.
“It is,” his dad huffed, taking a sip of his red wine. “Snow in warfare is never good news.”
Edward was about to point out that they weren’t at war, then realized that in a way, he and his father actually were—a long-running conflict that had caused a huge amount of sadness and anger.
A waiter came over and filled Edward’s glass with tonic water. Edward was grateful that his father didn’t comment. The old man couldn’t understand why Edward wouldn’t have a drink. He nodded thanks to his mother, knowing
she must have made the staff aware of this in the same discrete way that she conducted all of her affairs.
“I’m excited for this evening, my love,” she said, holding her hand over his on the table.
Edward looked down, not knowing how to answer. Her skin was almost translucent, her veins flowing blue lines like a map to her fingers. Her wedding ring shone below the biggest diamond Edward had ever seen. He knew she hardly ever wore her engagement ring because it was so cumbersome, and worth so much money. He wondered what it was about tonight’s dinner that had made her get it out of the safe where it normally lived.
He didn’t have time to voice his questions, though, as the door to The Gantry sung open and Valeria Baudelaire waltzed in, wrapped in a fox stole that had no doubt once been a living, breathing creature. She handed it to the waiter and glided to the table.
“Valeria, darling,” his father said, sweeping to his feet and kissing her twice on both cheeks.
His mother did the same, though with less enthusiasm.
“Absolute pleasure, as always,” Valeria replied to them both in her French accent.
Valeria had taken residence next to his father. There were three empty seats to Edward’s left now, and he wondered with growing dread who else would be here to enjoy the evening. He was hoping it would be some of his cousins, who he got on well with and who would take his mind off things with stories of their travels and their shenanigans.
Taking a sip of his tonic, he looked over at his mother, who was twisting her engagement ring in her finger. She looked stressed, and unhappy.
“Mum, is everything okay?” he asked. His dad and Valeria were too engrossed in a conversation to overhear, the Colonel’s face bright red as he guffawed at one of her jokes.
His mom flinched, as though he’d woken her from a dream. She looked at him, questioningly, then opened her mouth to speak. Before she could get a word out, though, the restaurant door opened in a flurry of snow and flashing lights. Two older people bustled in, whilst another stood at the door, bathing happily in the flashing lights of the paparazzi outside. Edward’s stomach dropped when he recognized her.
This must be some kind of joke, he thought.
He picked up his glass and downed his tonic. His face burned with anger, and he slammed his glass down. His mom, sensing the change in his mood, placed her hand once again over his and shook her head with a movement so small it was only barely perceptible.
“Mr and Mrs Huntingdon-Smith, how wonderful to see you again,” his father boomed, rising from his chair to greet the final few guests. “And Jennifer, how delightful. You look beautiful, my dear. Radiant.”
He was right, Jennifer did look beautiful. Her blonde curls were coiffed to perfection, gleaming as though they had been lacquered in gold. Her dress spilled over her curves and drew the eye to details he knew he was meant to be focusing on.
Yet, her exquisiteness failed to reach her eyes. They had a darkness to them, as if the glamour and the beauty was just a ruse. She may have been beautiful, but she was not radiant—she seemed to suck light in, rather than beaming it out. In this respect, she was the very opposite of Everly, who glowed.
The waiter took her coat and pulled out the chair next to Edward, which she took without a pause for thank you. She smelt overpoweringly of sugary perfume, a cloying sweetness which caught in the back of Edward’s throat. He reached for his drink and realized too late his glass was empty.
“Edward, please let me introduce you to Mr and Mrs Huntingdon-Smith,” his mother said, standing and greeting the couple in a shaky voice.
Edward stood too, remembering his manners, and greeted Jennifer with a kiss on each cheek. She kept her distance, not touching his cheek with her own lips, yet offering hers up with satisfaction.
“A pleasure to meet you both,” Edward said, turning to her parents.
The man, who must have been in his late fifties, shook Edward’s hand with the enthusiasm of a car salesman making his first sale of the day.
“Pleasure is all ours,” he said, a little too informally for Edward’s liking. “Please call us Marty and June.”
Edward gave them a nod and a smile, neither of which had any enthusiasm behind them.
“This place is stunning,” June said, her accent thick with Essex twang.
She was a lot younger than her husband—or she’d had a lot of work done—and Edward could see where Jennifer had inherited her looks. June had a similar coldness in her expression, as if she thought she was above those around her. Marty, on the other hand, was warm and friendly and had a rosy tint to his cheeks that could be the result of the snow or one too many brandies.
They all had their glasses topped up by the attentive waiting staff.
“I’ve already ordered for you all,” his father said. “The taster menu is a wonderful treat for the tastebuds.”
Just like him to decide what everyone wants, Edward thought, feeling trapped between Jennifer and his mother.
With that, the staff brought out the first of what felt like a hundred courses. It wasn’t that the food was below par, or that he didn’t normally enjoy the delight of a taster menu—food was almost always a pleasure for Edward—it was just that when Jennifer had walked through that door, his appetite had all but run out into the street behind her. He picked at his plates, joining in occasionally with the small talk, and the inane chatter. Jennifer was sitting uncomfortably close to him, her sweet perfume dampening what little pleasure he was already getting from the food.
Eventually, after a small eternity, they had all cleaned their final plates and were looking merry and full. Edward felt Jennifer’s hand slide under the table cloth and sit on his leg. He sat bolt upright, his leg tense. He tried to edge away from her but couldn’t do so in a subtle way. Her hair tickled his face as she leaned in close to him.
“My pops tells me that you’re going to ask me to dinner on my own next time,” she said, one side of her mouth gliding up into a shark-like smile. “I think that’s wonderful news.”
She squeezed his leg and he flinched, jumping out of his seat. Excusing himself from the table, he walked with purpose to the bathroom and locked the door behind him.
How could my parents do this to me? he thought, splashing cold water on his face. Why can’t they just let me be?
He took a moment to collect his thoughts, knowing he couldn’t stay in the bathroom for the rest of the evening—as much as he’d like to. He rejoined the table as tea and coffee was being served, and Edward took the opportunity to shunt his chair as far as possible from Jennifer’s before he sat down.
“We were just saying what a wonderful night this has been,” Marty piped up as Edward poured cream into his coffee. “And how we’re looking forward to many more like it. We’ll be family, after all.”
He turned and looked at June, a wry smile on his face. Edward could only imagine what they had been talking about in his absence, and what they had planned for him and Jennifer.
“Me too.” Jennifer smiled at him like the cat who’d got the cream. “My love.”
Without warning, she glided her arm around his shoulders and leaned in to kiss him. He turned his face just in time and her lips smacked his cheek, but it did little to dissuade her. Jennifer laughed, holding him tighter, and Madam Baudelaire clapped her hands together in delight. His father lifted his glass, throwing a look at Edward that was perfectly clear.
You’d better do what we say this time.
“Here’s to the future,” his father said, and everybody but Edward cheered.
21
Everly sat at the desk in her bedroom.
She had rustled together a makeshift easel out of books and her pencil case, and was sketching an outline of Edward on a small canvas. Her pencil glided over the material and an image soon appeared. Even here, in nothing but lines and whorls, she could see his beauty—not just physical, but the very essence of him, seeming to shine from the sketch like sunlight.
A knock at her door rou
sed her from the picture, and she quickly threw a cloth over the canvas to hide what she was doing.
“Who is it?” she said, wondering who else was in the house.
“Rory. Can I come in for a sec?”
Everly’s heart dipped a little. She had been hoping it was Edward at her door. They had enjoyed such a wonderful evening on Tuesday night that Everly hadn’t been able to sleep for excitement. She’d spent the next two days in the studio, busily working away at her painting for the competition, the smile barely leaving her face. She couldn’t help it, although she knew she looked crazy. Her head was full of dreams.
The studio had been full on Wednesday, and today too. All the artists were back and working away as if their lives depended on it. Jennifer seemed buoyant, and left early on Wednesday with a flourish of blonde curls. Today she had seemed as if she would explode with excitement. She had hidden her work away, so it was hard to gauge how far along with her piece she was, but from her demeanor she must be very pleased with it.
Everyone else seemed to be on target too. Everly had wanted to tell Rory how much Edward had smiled when he’d looked at his work, but she knew she wouldn’t have been able to contain herself if she started talking about him, so she had kept quiet. Alison and James had both been wearing headphones, obviously not wanting to be disturbed, so they had all carried on with their work in silence.
She had been anything but silent with Edward, though. They had swapped phone numbers during their date, and had been exchanging messages ever since. The sound of her phone chiming sent her into a paroxysm of excitement as she wondered if it would be another loving text from him. He said the most heart-warming things to her, and she loved to send him messages that would make him smile when he read them.
My Dashing Billionaire: A Clean Billionaire Romance (My Billionaire A-Z Book 4) Page 12
