by Bella Bryce
Brayden asked the uniformed man behind the table for the drink Anabelle requested, then handed it to her. She held onto the glass with two hands and sipped through the straw, completely unaware that Brayden couldn't take his eyes off her. Ana looked so innocent, taking on the characteristics of a girl much younger than herself as she sipped the sugary drink.
"Mind that you don't spill," Brayden found himself saying.
Anabelle glanced up slowly as she carried on sipping through the striped paper straw, giving him a bit of a coy look. Brayden realised he'd spoken to Anabelle as though she were a child, but he wasn't about to take his words back.
"I wouldn't want to have to put you in one of Alice's frocks if you got grenadine down the front of that one," Brayden added, before he took another sip of champagne.
"Why not?" she replied, as she carried on sipping through the straw.
Brayden realised that they were playing the same game, digging for information and seeing if it matched up. He wanted to know if Anabelle was interested in him being paternal or dominating toward her. There would be absolutely no point in pursuing her unless he could be certain Ana wanted those things. Alice had been Brayden's main reason for not pursuing Anabelle, but after holding her during their slow dancing, he knew that was no longer an excuse. Anabelle adored Alice, and he knew his daughter adored Ana. What further delay did there need to be?
A subtle, sensual moment had been building between them as Ana continued to drink through the straw, and look up at Brayden as he watched her with a supervisory air about him. He put his champagne glass down on the table directly beside them, and watched as she continued quietly sipping her drink. Ana was soaking in every detail of that moment, of feeling like 'his', under that watchful stare. Then her phone vibrated. As if shaken out of a trance, Anabelle put the glass down, and reached into the little patent clutch that hung around her wrist. She felt like throwing her phone across the conservatory as she gave Brayden an apologetic look, and walked right past him out of the conservatory.
"Anabelle Greyson," she answered, putting one hand over her ear as she went to shield the caller from the merriment of the party.
Brayden stood there for a moment, hearing the sound of her flat patent shoes as she walked away from him. He hated the sound of Anabelle departing. He exhaled, and was about to find someone else to talk to, when he realised the significance of the moment they'd just shared. Anabelle hadn't been uncomfortable or indifferent about him trying to weave various undertones into their short exchange of dialogue and non-verbal communication. Their short interlude had been enough for him to be able to at least ask Ana to dinner, knowing it wouldn't end in vain because of how strong and obvious many of the signs of her responses were. Perhaps, he could even bring up the conversation they'd shared back at his birthday ball, which had undertones along very similar lines.
Brayden turned from the conservatory and abandoned the room with confidence, before it melted away. He would never forgive himself if he kept putting Anabelle off; he certainly hadn't intended to do it. His own feelings aside – Alexander Patterson was a very handsome, very charming chap, and he could see himself easily losing Anabelle to Alexander otherwise.
When Brayden closed the conservatory doors behind him, he looked down the corridors to the left and right, and then straight ahead, where he saw Anabelle walking toward the foyer. He frowned and picked up his pace to be sure he caught her.
"Anabelle," he said, before she reached the foyer. She closed her eyes as she slowed down, but opened them before he walked around and saw her face.
"Is everything all right? Do you need Jude to take you somewhere?"
"That was my boss; I need to go home and prep for a client who's apparently flying in from Germany tomorrow. He's notorious for being insufferable, and I don't want to go into the meeting unprepared."
"You wouldn't have left in my chauffeured car without saying goodbye, surely."
Ana couldn't help but offer a small, coy smile, just as she had done earlier.
"Are you really leaving now?" Brayden asked, his own smile fading as he became serious.
Her heart was absolutely wrenching. She'd finally had the opportunity to see Brayden outside of a work event, and there was her job with Tweed Events Co., calling her away from it. Ana felt like screaming. "I don't want to go, believe me. My flat is lonely, and it's Sunday afternoon. I'd much rather be here."
"This is where you should be," Brayden wanted to say. He didn't, because her phone vibrated again.
Anabelle stared back at him. She was waiting for him to tell her to stay. Or to ignore her phone. Anything.
"What shall I say to Alice?"
Ana reached for her phone and answered it, "five minutes," and she ended the call again.
"Tell her my gift is the one in the pink and ivory striped paper with the matching ribbon. It's fragile."
* * * * *
Alice had her eye on Alexander Patterson ever since the dance floor. She'd somehow lost sight of Anabelle half an hour before, but as long as she knew Alex was visible, her nostrils weren't flaring. Alice felt even more relieved when Brayden returned to the conservatory because he'd disappeared too.
"Where is Miss Greyson?" Alice met him right near the doors as he walked back in.
"I'm afraid she had to leave, Darling," Brayden said, although he couldn't meet her eyes.
Alice looked up at her father with an unamused expression. "She left?"
Brayden just put one hand gently on her cheek, then walked past her. Alice turned and watched her father immediately return to a nearby group of guests. She wanted to slap him. How could he let Anabelle leave? The party wasn't over! What had happened between them?
Bennett had been watching too. He saw Brayden leave with Anabelle, and he watched him return alone half an hour later, just as Alice had witnessed. He also saw Alice's posture and how she retreated to one of the French doors on the opposite side of the conservatory. Bennett spotted Brayden having conversation with a small group of guests and approached his niece. He stopped beside Alice as she stood looking out of the conservatory onto the back of Waldorf's estate.
"Miss Greyson left, and it's his fault, Uncle Bennett."
He exhaled quietly and fully faced Alice; from a distance, they looked like two perfectly positioned actors who had paused in the shoot of a scene from a film, as the daylight poured through the glass windows and doors. Bennett put out his hand, palm up. It only took her a second to realise what he wanted. Alice reached into the pocket of her pinafore and handed over Jonathan and Evelyn Fowler's place cards.
"Excuse me, please," she said, then left him standing alone.
* * * * *
When the party was over, all 109 birthday presents were moved from the conservatory and down the corridor into the sitting room. Brayden intended to have Alice open them that evening, and so claimed a quiet moment to look out over his estate with a whiskey in a crystal tumbler as his only companion. Bennett and Elisabeth were walking in the gardens, and Alice had gone upstairs with Celia for a rest. It had been an exhausting party, even for a seasoned socialiser like Brayden. He was tired for other reasons, and so was Alice.
Rather, Alice was exasperated and used being tired as an excuse to hide away for a while. Dinner wasn't for several hours and the house was quiet and empty, which was prime time for reflection. Brayden's reflection consisted of only one thing: regret. He regretted not chasing Ana, or asking her to stay, even telling her to stay. Brayden wasn't a cowardly man – not in the least. He was not afraid to stand firm on his beliefs, his expectations, his values or his intentions. Except with Anabelle. It had gone past the point of worrying whether Ana would 'accept' Alice; it was plain as plain that she did. His hesitation was now self-induced fear of rejection. Or was it that he was afraid things wouldn't last?
"May I join you?"
Brayden half-turned and saw Bennett standing just inside the doorway. "Yes, of course," he replied, and turned back to the window.
>
"Elisabeth's reading to Alice," he offered, as he walked across the study. Bennett stopped at the Chesterfield sofa, pulled up his trousers and sat down. Brayden remained with his back to him.
"It was a lovely party," Bennett said, to break the ice. He would have preferred to get right to the point, but Brayden never responded well to that. Bennett would need to ease in – even if they were best friends.
"Alice seemed happy," he replied, as he turned from the window and approached the fireplace and seating area. He sat across from Bennett on an identical Chesterfield sofa and put his drink on the mahogany table between them.
"So did you," Bennett replied.
Brayden looked over at his friend. "Yes, well, there were one or two things I would have done differently."
Bennett raised an eyebrow. "I didn't see anything worth criticising."
"Were you looking hard enough?" Brayden asked.
"You tell me," Bennett replied, as he took Jon and Evelyn Fowler's place cards out of his inside blazer pocket and put them down on the table between them. "Would you have done that differently?" Bennett asked.
Brayden looked at the place cards, then up at his friend.
"I don't know who was behind it, but I certainly wouldn't thrash them. Not for something like this," Bennett added.
"You should be ashamed of yourself," Brayden replied, stiffly.
"Do you intend to belt her for wanting to see you happy?"
"No, I intend to belt her for humiliating her father. Place cards do not get moved, and especially not by my child." He stood up. "You know how serious an offense that is."
"She never meant to humiliate you."
"Alice knew exactly what she was doing," Brayden refuted, his voice beginning to rise. He never yelled, but something inside of him felt as though it was about to snap. "In front of all my guests, making the decision for me that Anabelle would be viewed as the woman I'd chosen."
"Isn't she?" Bennett asked, as he stood up. "Isn't she the one you can't stop thinking about? Haven't you replayed that dance in your mind countless times already? I bet you know whether her mascara was black or brown."
"We will speak about this later," he said, pointing at Bennett. "If I find out Elisabeth had anything to do with it, she's getting spanked too," he added, before opening the study doors.
"You have every right to thrash your niece for disrespectful behaviour, but have you stopped to examine your annoyance? Think about that before you pull them over your knee, won't you," Bennett replied flatly.
"You will not tell me what to examine under my own roof," Brayden replied.
"You sound like a silly little schoolboy, James," Bennett challenged him. "The only reason you're cross is because Anabelle Greyson sat beside you during dinner, and you're afraid of how it made you look. Although, having refused to pursue her for the last three months, I would probably feel that way too. If you had any sense at all, Brayden, you would thank your daughter. She did you a favour."
"I do not reward deceitful behaviour," he replied, with slow determination.
The room fell quiet, and Bennett's eyes travelled to the doorway, where Alice stood. Brayden turned to see what had taken Bennett's attention and looked back at his daughter. Alice made eye contact with both of them, then turned and walked away. Brayden left the study immediately, but she wasn't in the corridor. He looked down the endless hall, to the left and to the right, and went straight toward her bedroom.
She exhaled deeply, feeling the exasperation as she ran across the back of the estate. She didn't care that bits of dirt were splattering her white pinafore and tights. Celia and her father would care, but she didn't. Not then.
Alice ran without stopping, the nearly half a mile it took from the formal gardens, to the edge of the tree line, and then followed the neat trail through to the lake at the back of Waldorf's property. She stopped at the edge of the wood, hanging halfway over as she tried to catch her breath. She hadn't run in a long time. The lake was sparkling when she stood back up; it seemed to do little else. She took a slow walk to the bench nearby, then plopped down on the edge when she reached it. Alice burst into tears and let her head drop down onto her hand as it shielded her forehead from hitting the bench directly. She didn't move, or look up, or even dry her tears for a long time. When Alice felt it was time to go back, her tears had dried.
She stood up and walked back to the edge of the wood, and grabbed a stick along the way. She peeled the bark as she walked along the path, glancing up every few feet to ensure she wouldn't run into a tree. Alice could just about make out the countless lights coming from Waldorf and when she reached the other side of the tree line, she could see it half a mile away – it felt like the manor itself was already telling her off. She threw the stick to the ground and carried on walking. Her gait was dejected and unsatisfied; after all that time of crying, she hadn't come to any conclusions. She had simply run away and cried. She hadn't accomplished anything productive. Not to her knowledge, anyway. As she got closer, she could see staff in nearly every room – no doubt they were looking for her.
Alice didn't walk around the estate and enter through the front door; she approached the formal gardens and the back patio where the conservatory was. Wellesley opened the back door and was surprised to see her walking up the stairs toward him.
"Miss Alice."
She could barely meet his eyes. He was worried, his voice gave him away.
"Sorry, Wellesley," was all she could say as she passed.
Brayden's voice was calm, but Alice heard the concern from all the way down the corridor. She'd been missing for more than two hours by that point, and as she wandered toward the foyer, she heard Elisabeth being comforted by Bennett, who assured her everything would be all right. Brayden turned when he heard a pair of delicate dress shoes and he immediately appeared from the sitting room. The look on his face was utter relief as he walked toward Alice and then pulled her into his arms. Bennett appeared in the doorway, and signalled for Elisabeth to join him. When she saw Brayden and Alice hugging, she frowned, then squeezed past Bennett. As Brayden was putting Alice at arm's length, Elisabeth marched right over and grabbed her away.
"Do you have any idea how worried we've been?" Elisabeth's voice echoed throughout the foyer. She put both of her hands on Alice's arms and gave her a good shake. "You are a very naughty girl for doing that to us!" Elisabeth was furious, and had been furiously worried. All manner of thoughts had raced through her mind when they realised Alice was nowhere to be found.
"If I were your mother, I would thrash your backside raw, and then I would thrash you again for getting all dirty. Just look at your pinafore. Look at your tights. What was going through your head? Answer me!"
Alice's eyes had fallen to the floor from the first moment Elisabeth grabbed her. "I'm sorry," she offered, quietly.
"I'm certain you will be," Elisabeth replied.
"As if you're completely blameless," she glared.
Elisabeth raised her hand and slapped Alice's cheek with enough force that everyone was shocked. "Apologise to your father and uncle. You scared everyone."
She slowly turned back to Elisabeth as her chin quivered. Elisabeth only raised an eyebrow, willing Alice to slowly turn around. Bennett and Brayden stood beside each other, both somewhat shocked at Elisabeth's reaction, although they didn't make it obvious.
"I'm sorry, Father. Uncle Bennett," Alice quietly confessed. She then turned and walked up the staircase without another word.
Bennett went to Elisabeth and hugged her. "It's all right, darling. She's all right."
Elisabeth closed her eyes as she stayed in Bennett's arms. She had absolutely nothing to say in response to that.
Alice didn't know what to do with herself. Celia hadn't been waiting around in her room to run her a bath, and her dress and tights had dirt on them. It was nearly dinnertime, but she wouldn't be allowed to sit at the table looking like that. Nor was she hungry. Alice could just imagine how awkward it would be
that night anyway – for various reasons.
Brayden walked into the bedroom and straight to Alice, pulling her into his arms without delay. She broke down again, her shoulders inverted as she hid herself in her father's waistcoat and tie. "I'm sorry, Father," she managed, through her tears. She couldn't look up at him.
"Come here," he picked her up off the floor, walked out of her bedroom, and down the corridor to his study. Brayden wanted to sit in his wingchair; the place he held Alice when she first cried in his arms. He sat down and cradled her across his lap all the while holding her to his chest. "You gave me such a fright, Alice." Her crying softened as she listened to his voice.
Alice pulled away from his chest and wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. "My heart is broken, Father."
He wanted to chuckle, but Alice looked sincere. "How did that happen, darling?"
"I can't stay."
Brayden readjusted Alice in his lap. "Pardon?"
"I can't stay here – it will just keep ruining everything with Miss Greyson."
He exhaled through his nose and turned Alice inward across his knees. "Alice, that is absolutely not true. What makes you think such a thing?"
"If you could really have us both, wouldn't you by now?"
Brayden stared back at her.
"If I'm the reason - " Alice began. He cut her off abruptly.
"You are my daughter; I chose you."
Alice's eyes searched his. "I can't be the reason you won't fall in love."
"You are the reason I know how to love." He looked back at her.
Her eyebrows furrowed inward, as though she were in pain. "Then why do I feel like this?" she asked, quietly. She wanted to cry, but there was nothing left.
"Because you have been the centre of my world since you arrived, and we both realise now how unfair it is for me to put that on you," he replied, with honesty. "I knew you were mine from the first moment you walked into this study."
She looked at Brayden as he recalled that moment. "You will never understand how deep a father's love goes, so don't try." He words were gentle and sincere, and it was clear he needed to speak them. Alice didn't know how to respond. She was caught between feeling guilty about Anabelle and being reassured that Brayden's affections for her were somewhat separate.
