Wait—if it was accidental why was he dressed as though he was attending the dance?
Was he intentionally masquerading as a Stonebridge boy so that he could lure some poor Mapleton Manor girl off into the woods…much like he had done with me…so he could murder her and chop her into tiny little pieces?
Christ…I’m going to be the next Polly Pearl. Girls will tell my horror stories for decades.
“No. I go to Upton—I was invited to come tonight.” Peter sat down on one of the logs and pulled out the magazine to flick through. “This is March’s issue. You haven’t been here for a while, then.”
I’m an absolute idiot… “Um, no, not for a while. I’ve been busy. Busy, busy, busy…”
Peter glanced at me. “Are you all right?”
“Me? I’m fine.” Crazy, but fine. “So you go to Upton? How do you like it?”
He shrugged and put the magazine back in the plastic bag. He sealed it back up again and rested his elbows on his knees. “I enjoy it as much as anyone else, I suppose. Perhaps not quite as much as you enjoy your school.”
“Perhaps not. It would be difficult to top. Mapleton Manor is a long way for you to come just for a school dance, isn’t it?”
A soft smile touched Peter’s lips. “To some maybe. But look how well it’s turned out for me.”
Wow. This boy was definitely a charmer. And I was sufficiently charmed. Tonight might have got off to a rocky start thanks to Miles, his repulsive wandering hands and his terrible personality, but I couldn’t deny that I was more than enjoying this new turn of events. I took a seat beside Peter on the log and pulled the packet of cigarettes out of the bag. I offered him the pack. Peter took it and drew himself out a cigarette.
“Would you like a drink?” I asked Peter, gesturing to the vodka bottle.
“Sure,” he agreed with a smile.
I unscrewed the lid of the bottle and took a large swig. A cough irritated my throat as I passed the bottle to Peter.
He lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe you should start off slower?”
“I have to do that to start with or it makes me feel ill sipping straight vodka. But if I take a big gulp it sort of makes it more bearable,” I said, rubbing my chest and willing the burn to pass.
“I suppose that makes sense. In a convoluted sort of way.” Peter chuckled. “So this is what you and your friends do for fun—sneak down here for late-night parties?”
“Hardly parties,” I said with a laugh. “But we come down here and chat, tell ghost stories and have a giggle—that sort of thing. We sneak the alcohol and cigarettes out and it keeps things interesting.”
“How do you even get the booze in? The housemasters at Upton are like prison wardens. We can get hardly anything past them.”
I gave Peter a catlike smile. “We have our ways. I buy it in the Ville—the village just down the road—and then we hide it around our House. Sometimes we have to sneak it in in water bottles, but we’re usually successful. I haven’t been caught once.”
Peter’s dark green eyes sparkled and he leaned a fraction of an inch closer to me. “I’m beginning to get the impression that you’re nothing but trouble.”
“You could be right,” I agreed. “But trust me, this is nothing to how I used to be.”
“Oh?”
I nodded. “I was an absolute rogue when I was a child.”
He grinned. “So I can imagine. Have you always boarded?”
“No, I was in day school in Monaco for the first few years, but Daddy wanted me to have an English education. I went to Bourne Park when I was eight, and then here to Mapleton Manor. What about you?”
“Day school until Upton. I can’t say I like it any better or less.”
“I love boarding,” I said quietly, my cheeks warming under my admission. “Call me childish, but I love being around all my friends all the time. We have so much fun. Especially when we were at Bourne Park—which a few of the girls I live with now went to as well, so we’ve known each other for such a long time.”
“I can imagine that builds amazing friendships,” Peter said, softly.
“It does. I can tell them anything. And I know that one, five, even ten years could pass and I could call any one of them and they would be there for me in a heartbeat.” I meant every word that I said. That was the best part about building these sorts of friendships—they truly lasted. Fenella and Annie had been with me since Bourne Park and apart from a few minor feuds—usually over someone suspecting someone else of raiding their tuck box—there had never been any conflict. I could only hope that lasted for the rest of our lives.
“Didn’t you mind being sent to boarding school so young? Didn’t you miss your family?” Peter asked. He passed me the vodka bottle back and I took a small sip this time.
“Of course I missed them—I still do. But I don’t cry in the night, or beg Mummy to bring me home. I miss them like anyone would miss someone they loved. Just like I miss my friends during the holidays when I don’t see them. If anything, boarding has made me appreciate my family a whole lot more. I didn’t mind being sent away from home when I was eight. Sure, it took some getting used to, but once I settled in at Bourne Park, I had nothing but fun.”
Peter grinned and took a drag on his cigarette. “I can appreciate that. Although, growing up I would have done just about anything to get away from my little sister. She drove me barmy.”
I laughed, a memory flooding back to me from my time at Bourne. “You never locked yourself away in cupboard then? There was a huge one in our dormitory and we dared a girl to spend the night in it once.”
His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “In a cupboard?”
“A very big cupboard. And we were always starving, which is probably why we’re all so slim. So she fit just fine.”
“Did you all get caught?”
I huffed and rolled my eyes. “Of course we did—because the idiot in the cupboard didn’t turn the alarm on her watch off, so it started bleating in the middle of the night and she couldn’t find the button to turn it off, so it made a huge racket and woke up the housemistress. We had to stand facing the wall for hours. So long I fell asleep.”
Peter threw his head back and laughed, a deep and throaty sound. “That sounds barbaric!”
“We were pretty naughty. There were swings at the bottom of the garden and we used to flick our shoes over the fence into the field. When we were caught we would have to go and retrieve them, but we didn’t care and would always turn it into a lark. And we used to eat the wild garlic that grew in the Spinney.”
“Wild garlic?” Peter’s face twisted in disgust. “That must have tasted revolting!”
A laugh bubbled in my throat. “It did. But like I said, we were always starving so we didn’t care. The French teacher would go mad, though, when we did it because we all stunk to high heaven.”
Peter grinned. “I can imagine.”
“Some of the school meals were just awful—like corned beef and fish pie. Oh, and rice pudding and semolina. And pretty much anything with custard.”
“What’s wrong with custard?”
“It was lumpy. We would try anything to get extra food. We would sneak into the kitchen to make marmite on toast, too. And there were tricks you could do to get sent to the sick bay where you would get extra toast, like warming up a thermometer on the radiator. But if I was given Calpol I would spit it out because it tasted disgusting.”
“Poor, hungry girls,” he said in a teasing voice.
I gave him a gentle nudge with my elbow. “Yes, poor us. It wasn’t all like that, or we’d resemble a bunch of wretched orphans from the Victorian age. I’m not painting a very good picture of my prep school, am I? I adored it—especially because we all had tons of pets, like rabbits and hamsters. Only Peshak the cat ate one of my baby rabbits, which was quite rubbish. And there was bring your pet to school day. I’m sure you can imagine the chaos that day, especially in the science room. My windowsill in the dorm was always cluttered with jars of cat
erpillars that I’d keep until they transformed into butterflies. And I was forever catching tadpoles that I then kept as pet frogs. The other girls were more squeamish with the frogs, but I liked the slimy, hoppy little things.”
He tipped his head back and laughed, the sound rich and full. “You’re starting to make me wish I had gone to an all-girls prep school. It’s not fair that I missed out on all of that,” Peter said, as he flashed me a wink.
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew how annoying apple pie beds were,” I said, grinning.
“Do you have siblings? Are they in boarding school?” Peter rested his chin on his palm, seeming riveted by what I had to say.
I wasn’t used to someone taking such an interest in me, let alone seeming to genuinely care about the answers. Most boys I interacted with couldn’t care less. Yet again, Peter impressed me in all the right ways. “Yes, Augustus is fourteen and goes to Seaton, he’s the pride of the family. And Louisa, she’s eleven now, and she’s at Bourne Park.”
“Are you close to them? It’s only in the last few years that I’ve started to get along with my sister. We tormented each other like crazy when we were younger.”
“I’m close to Augustus because we’re quite similar. We’re both sporty and most holidays we disappear off together, and like going fishing or swimming, that sort of thing. Louisa, I think, just lives to wind me up. She always steals my things and constantly begs to tag along. She’s a demon child a lot of the time.” I shrugged and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Louisa is a very spirited girl. But as much as she annoys me, I’m very protective of her. Like you are of your little sister, I bet.”
“Of course. Never tried to sell her once. Honest.” Peter smiled. “I bet you and your sister turn into good friends when she’s a bit older.”
“Maybe,” I murmured quietly. Here’s hoping, at least. Only time would tell. “I have two older half-brothers too, Jamie and Carr, from my father’s first and second marriages. I don’t get to see them very often, but I have the best memories of Jamie taking me up in his helicopter and Mummy being petrified with fright.”
“He sounds like quite a character. You all do,” Peter said.
“Jamie went to Upton,” I said. “From what I can gather, he earned himself a bit of a reputation, too.”
Peter sat up straighter. “Wait— You’re not talking about Jamie Felton, are you?”
My eyebrows pinched together. “Yes. Have you heard about him?”
“Heard about him? Everyone at Upton knows the stories of Jamie Felton. He’s legendary.” Peter laughed.
I smiled. “Jamie will be pleased to hear that.”
“So… You’re actually Lady Freddie, then?”
“Yes,” I said, giving a short nod.
There was a pause before Peter spoke again, and doubt took the opportunity to creep into my mind. Would he treat me differently now? My friends never had—but they were different. Some of them I had known since I’d been eight and barely even thought of me as someone with a title.
“I’m not sure it’s entirely ladylike to climb trees,” Peter said with a teasing smile.
I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding, and couldn’t help but laugh. “So my mother tells me. She was never impressed when I would come home with ripped dresses and skinned knees.”
Peter laughed. “Do you have a big family estate then?”
“Yes, Heyworth House. Most of it is leased, but the East Wing is occupied by my family when we visit. We lived there full-time until I was about two. It’s a beautiful estate, especially when you see the Rotunda as you come up the drive. And the gardens and grounds are just huge—beautifully maintained. We have a London house, too, but we live in Monaco for the most part, which I adore.” I grinned. “I’ve never exactly warmed to the British weather.”
His face warmed as he gave me a soft smile. “It sounds like you have an amazing life.”
My cheeks blushed. “It may sound conceited, but I really do. I’m lucky. I know how much I am.”
“Well, I feel lucky to have met you, Lady Freddie,” Peter said, softly.
“I know what you mean,” I whispered.
The time passed in an odd, dreamlike way. Part of me felt like I had known Peter for years, yet at the same time it felt like only a heartbeat since I had met him. His easy, good-natured personality made him likeable and the charm that seemed to come naturally to him completely won me over. Peter was the sort of person that I knew would attract people to him like he was the sun. He was easy to be around and I realised that the longer I was with him, the longer I wanted to be with him.
I wanted to draw the hours out until they stretched into oblivion and gave me more time with him.
Twilight settled around us, the air growing cooler as the day finally gave way to night. The dance would be ending soon, but it was as far away from my mind at that moment as the moon was from the earth.
Peter tipped his head back to gaze up at the pinpricks of stars that began to turn on in the sky. “It’s getting late.”
As loath as I was to admit, I nodded. “People will be leaving soon.”
Peter blew out a breath and slowly got to his feet. “I got a lift here—I should head back so they don’t think I’ve already left.”
I nodded again and tried to quell the rising disappointment in my chest. What had I thought would happen? That we could stay here in the woods forever, living on berries and twigs? Reality check, Freddie…
He extended a hand to me, and I slid my palm into his, shivering at the contact. Peter pulled me to my feet, and to my surprise, and absolute pleasure, he didn’t let go.
We walked back along the path the way we’d come, going slower than a snail’s pace as we dragged it out. Peter threw a dirty look as we passed the sycamore he had fallen out of, making me giggle. He gave my hand a squeeze as he peered down at me, his eyes full of good humour.
“Will it be late when you get back to Upton?” I asked.
Peter shrugged. “It takes a few hours to drive. Maybe I’ll catch a nap on the back seat.”
“And not share all the driving?” I poked him in the stomach. “You’re terrible.”
“My friend loves to drive. He’s very protective of his car and doesn’t trust a fool like me behind the wheel of his precious baby.” He grinned. “I read my book on the way up, but it will be too dark heading back home. I can’t help it—the minute I’m in a moving car I fall asleep. Unless I’m reading.”
“What is it you’re reading?” I asked him.
“The Return of the King. Again. I’m a fan of the trilogy.”
“Do you enjoy literature, then?”
“No, I adore literature.” Peter’s smile lit up his face. “Call me a geek, but I live for falling into a good book. And I reread all my favourites. It’s like meeting a long-lost friend that you haven’t talked to in ages. It’s comforting.”
“I love a good book too, but I have to admit that I’m not as ardent as you are.”
“There’s nothing better than the written word,” Peter said, quietly. “A good writer can paint a scene for his reader, making him feel like he’s right there in the middle of the story. It’s why I enjoy letter writing so much, too.”
We stepped out of the woods and the school campus came into view. The grass was cool under my feet as we slowly walked across the lawn towards the main building. Music pulsed from inside, and outside couples darted around corners and hid in shadows, stealing a few minutes of privacy.
“Do you write a lot of letters?” I asked Peter.
He nodded. “Whenever I can, to whoever I can. I write to my family. My mother, in particular, loves the days the postman brings her a letter from her beautiful baby boy.”
I smiled. “How modest you are.”
“Careful,” Peter said, squeezing my hand again. “Or you won’t get one.”
My steps faltered and I looked up at his handsome face. “You would write to me?”
Peter stoppe
d just outside the door that would take us back into the dance. “Frederica, it would be a divine honour to write to a lady like yourself. And why would you think that tonight would be enough for me?”
My heart thumped, a constant beat of adrenaline and excitement. I couldn’t stop the wide, goofy smile that spread across my face. “I don’t know. But I’m hoping it’s not.”
Peter grinned. “Well, I assure you that it is not. So, Lady Freddie, can I write to you?”
“I would love you to,” I said with a girlish giggle.
He raised my hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. My heart spluttered and for one scary second I thought it might give up all together. Peter’s eyes caught mine, pinning me to the spot with his enchanting green eyes.
Peter shifted, bringing his body closer to mine. He placed his free hand on my hip and instinctively I stepped into his space.
If anything, my heart pounded harder—so hard I had no idea how it was still inside my body. I’d never had a reaction like this to a boy before. My entire being felt different—lighter somehow. And yet, at the same time, like I was full of all this burning energy, a live wire, and would surely shock anyone who touched me.
Peter dipped his head and his breath gently drifted across my face. I saw every fleck of colour in his eyes, the different tones of green, the subtle dots of gold. There was a tiny smattering of freckles across his nose that I hadn’t noticed before, almost perfectly blended in with his smooth, tanned skin.
“Freddie,” Peter whispered.
I tipped my face up, my lips parted as I waited for his question, which I was sure, which I hoped, I knew.
His hand skimmed up my body until he cupped my cheek.
God…this is it! I never thought I would be one of those girls who just got off with a boy at a school disco, but here I was…agonisingly waiting for him to kiss me.
He smiled before leaning even further in.
My breath hitched as I anticipated his lips meeting mine.
“Freddie! There you are!”
I wrenched away from Peter to see Fenella race down the steps towards us. “Hi, Fenella.”
Lady in Waiting Page 12
