A Brit Unexpected (Castle Calder Book 2)

by Brenda St John Brown

  “He’s stalking Alexa Gayle? And you think this is a good idea?” Oh. My. God. I followed the #VaughnGayle romance, the same as everybody else—pop princess dates Hollywood heart throb. She even wrote him a song. They were quite the “it” couple for a good year until they fell off the radar. When the tabloids started wondering what happened, both blamed it on the pressures of career and spending too much time apart, and that was the end of any further thoughts about #VaughnGayle. Until now.

  “Of course he’s not stalking her.” Grandmother’s retort is quick, but then she gives an elegant shrug. “That’s the problem.”

  “Now I really don’t understand.” I even look to Caleb, hoping he can fill in one or two of the blanks, but he just shakes his head.

  “Greyson’s been filming in London, and when he’s not filming he prefers to fly under the radar, which, Michael says, is part of the problem. He’s not been in the press at all, so Alexa’s allegations put him back in the spotlight in a very negative way,” Grandmother starts.

  Scarlett continues. “You being his mystery woman kills two birds with one stone. It solves the Alexa problem and the speculation about what Greyson does in his free time.”

  Scarlett throws her hands up in the air in a “ta da” motion, but I’m not feeling it. In fact, I scowl so hard it’s a wonder I can even see. “Okay, but why me?”

  Grandmother smiles. “Because you’d be perfect. Claire, you’re exactly the kind of person Greyson needs on his arm through all of this.”

  “I’m not playing somebody’s fake girlfriend, even if it is Greyson Vaughn.” It wasn’t that long ago I envisioned Greyson, ahem, seeing me to my room, but an imaginary one-night stand seems a lot less messy than being an imaginary girlfriend. And potentially a lot more satisfying.

  Caleb chimes in. “Come on, Claire Bear. Don’t be such a chicken.”

  I ignore him and keep my attention on my grandmother. “Why do I get the feeling you pushed for me, specifically, to do this?”

  Grandmother sighs; this one is long and accompanied by an exaggerated eye roll. “I’m simply trying to help. Michael says until this situation is resolved no studio will touch Greyson with a ten-foot pole because stalking isn’t a desirable trait in leading men. Once he finishes this film he has nothing in the pipeline and no prospects. It was actually me who suggested the fake girlfriend/mystery woman angle.”

  There’s a note of pride in Grandmother’s tone, but mine is pure agitation. “Okay. But how did I come up, exactly?”

  “Michael liked the idea, but his concern was finding someone to go along with it. We need to start combatting these rumors now. I knew you’d be here today and I suggested we enlist your help. It was as simple as that.” Grandmother sounds slightly apologetic now.

  “I’d do it in a heartbeat, but that’s probably not the kind of story you’re going for,” Caleb says. “It would raise the question of whether Alexa was ever his real girlfriend, though.”

  Grandmother purses her lips, but I can tell she’s hiding a smile. “That’s very tempting, but no. I don’t think that would do the young Mr. Vaughn any favors.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m glad you think this is funny. Especially since it’s not something that involves you.”

  “Hey. I volunteered to do it myself,” Scarlett says.

  “What?” My voice squeaks. “If you volunteered, why aren’t you doing it?”

  “Michael doesn’t think I’m wholesome enough.” Scarlett rolls her eyes, but then continues. “Which I can see, I suppose. But you are.”

  “Wholesome? I don’t even understand that word.” It sounds like a synonym for boring.

  Caleb studies me. “Sensible, decent, natural. You’re walking, talking wholesome, Claire Bear.”

  “Don’t bloody Claire Bear me,” I snap and turn to Grandmother. “So is Greyson on board with this plan?”

  “Well,” Grandmother says slowly. “According to Michael, and, I quote, ‘Greyson has the press savvy of a donkey in a horse race.’”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.” I hold my hand up as Grandmother, Scarlett, and Caleb all open their mouths to explain. “Save your breath. It doesn’t matter. Greyson can’t have a fake girlfriend if there’s no girl to act the part, right?”

  “But I don’t see why you wouldn’t.” Scarlett’s tone is filled with disbelief. “I mean cozying up to Greyson Vaughn for two days isn’t exactly a hardship and it’s not like anyone expects you to sleep with him.”

  Caleb laughs. “That’s a shame. That might have sealed the deal.”

  Talking about sex in front of my seventy-year-old grandmother is awkward on a good day, but since I’m pretty sure she’s having way more sex than I am, it makes me want to melt into the floor. I reach out to slap Caleb’s arm, but he dodges my hand as I turn to Grandmother to ask, “What do they expect?”

  “It’s a photo op, darling. Michael will stage the shots, but we’re imagining Greyson’s arms around your shoulders, holding hands in front of the fire, that sort of thing,” Grandmother says.

  “Very tame,” says Caleb with a sober nod.

  “For someone who wouldn’t be the one going through with this, you have an awful lot of opinions.” Hugh’s little-boy-lost expression pops into my head, but I push it away. My ex is not one to read the gossip rags, and even if he was, it’s not like he’d have an opinion.

  “If he gets out of line, I’ll rough him up for you,” Caleb says. “He’s pretty, so he won’t want to give me a reason to have a go at him.”

  I feel a smile forming for the first time since we’ve been talking about this. “He is pretty, I’ll give you that.”

  “So pretty.” Scarlett grins and glances at a tiny silver watch on her wrist. “And on that note, Mum is going to think I’ve slagged her off and you need to change.”

  Caleb looks me up and down. “Seriously, Claire Bear, if you’re going to be Greyson Vaughn’s mystery woman for the weekend, you need to up your wardrobe game. There’s no yellow brick road here, darling.”

  “Shut it. Darling.” I stick my tongue out at him like we’re kids again.

  “Claire.” Grandmother’s voice slices through our banter. “I’d like you to at least consider this. As a favor to me.”

  As a favor to me.

  Grandmother raised me after my mother was killed in a car accident when I was six and those words are heavy with the implication that my debt to her will never truly be paid. As if I didn’t know.

  I sigh and nod. “Fine. I’ll consider it. For now I should go up and change.”

  Caleb grabs the duct-tape-covered handle of my suitcase. “Shall I be a gentleman and take your suitcase up for you?”

  He starts for the stairs without waiting for my reply and I let him because it beats lugging my case up the stairs myself. But I stop short at the door to the St Julien’s apartment without inviting Caleb in. I love my cousin, but I’ll never get ready—let alone have a coherent thought about this whole Greyson Vaughn thing—if he’s talking and joking nonstop.

  I promise Caleb a bottle of Absolut we both know I can’t afford if I’m not back downstairs within the hour and let myself into the apartment. The minute I close the door behind me, my shoulders drop and my head clears. The apartment is warm and welcoming, a big L-shaped sofa taking up most of the small living room.

  In the ten years I’ve been working summers at Castle Calder, the St Julien’s apartment has become a second home and I let myself stop to take in the familiar sights and smells. There’s one of Scarlett’s primary-school pottery projects on the hallway table, right next to framed photos of both Scarlett and Jasper graduating from Sixth Form. A bag of crisps lies open on the low coffee table and I’m sure I smell coffee. I know the apartment’s empty, but it’s the kind of empty that lets you know someone will be back sooner than later and it covers my shoulders like a warm blanket.

  I wheel my case down the hallway to Jasper’s bedroom. His double bed is made up neatly and the
only obvious remnant of Jasper himself is the artsy periodic table Scarlett drew him once upon a time, hung over his desk. I sink down on the bed. Pure bliss. Maybe I could stay here the rest of the night, raid the St Julien’s fridge for a snack, grab a glass of wine, and catch up on my Marketing Communications homework. I’d owe Caleb a bottle of vodka, but it would be worth it to avoid my grandmother and this whole Greyson Vaughn farce. Unfortunately, my non-appearance wouldn’t deter Grandmother from marching up here. First of all, these family gatherings are a command performance. Second, she’s got a beau along to impress. And third, she’s got her heart set on this asinine plan, which I need to shoot down once and for all.

  Yet, as I get ready, I wonder if I really should shoot it down. What if Scarlett’s right? I’m at Castle Calder for two nights and there are worse things than hanging out with Greyson Vaughn. Even if he turns out to be an arse to the nth degree, it’s a distraction.

  But then what does it say about me if I let Grandmother manipulate me into doing this? And what does it say that I’m worried more about my choices surrounding a fake relationship than I am about the fact I’m still pining after my ex even though he’s obviously moved on?

  Shine a light. No, I’m not going there. Castle Calder is a Hugh-free zone. And it’s not like he didn’t make it perfectly clear when I saw him this morning where we stand.

  “It’s great to see you again.” Hugh shifted from foot to foot outside of the mini-market, jiggling an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

  I smiled a little and attempted a joke. “Have you started smoking yet? Or are those things still just for show?”

  He laughed, but it faded quickly. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, Claire. Pretending we’re still close feels unhealthy to me.”

  Unhealthy, my arse.

  I roll my eyes and brush another coat of mascara on my lashes as I chastise myself. Nope, nope, nope. I swore when Hugh walked away this morning it was the last time I’d feel that kick in the chest. I’d use my weekend at Castle Calder to get my head on straight and be done with him. Once and for all. An entanglement with Greyson might be just the thing. And even if it’s all for show, it will help keep my mind off Hugh, right? Hugh Westerfield versus Greyson Vaughn? No contest.

  I turn my attention to my reflection. There’s a white mark near the hem of my dress. I probably should have gotten it cleaned after I wore it last, but, pet peeve number one hundred and twelve, I hate paying for dry cleaning, especially when it’s something I wear only a couple of times a year. The St Julien’s are big on candlelight, so hopefully it won’t be too noticeable once I’m downstairs.

  I smile to make sure I don’t have lipstick on my teeth and smooth my skirt down one more time. I must have lost a few pounds because my dress isn’t as snug as it usually is, but it doesn’t look like I’m wearing a sack either, so it’s fine. My long blonde hair is dirty enough to lay flat and keep its style, but not so dirty that it would be better swept up, and I spray a bit of perfume in it in case it smells weird. Okay. At least I look good. I can do this. Greyson’s just a guy, my grandmother is, well, my grandmother, and I don’t have to do anything that makes me uncomfortable.

  I give myself the same pep talk all the way downstairs and I think it’s working. At least until I enter the bar, where the cocktail hour is in full swing. And, wow, there aren’t many people here at all, which is going to make it a lot harder to get lost in the crowd. Almost everyone is dressed up, except for Caleb, who’s still wearing jeans and the ugly sweater he had on earlier. My grandmother will have something to say about that, but the difference between Caleb and me is that he won’t care.

  I start towards him, slipping past a few of my younger cousins engrossed in their devices. The room is gorgeous, as always. Potted trees covered in fairy lights sparkle in the corner, and the far end of the bar boasts a large silver vase filled with crimson flowers. The dark wooden tables have vases filled with more flowers, and candles give the room a magical glow.

  One that certainly doesn’t do Greyson Vaughn any harm. My gaze finds him in the small crowd, because of course it would, and I hone in on him like a bee seeking pollen. He wears a light grey suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, sans tie. His hair is neater than it was when I saw him out front and his face is smooth-shaven now. He looks every bit the movie star, cradling a glass of red wine and completely at ease with the furtive glances he’s on the receiving end of from almost everyone in the room. The man he’s talking to is Greyson in fifty years—same high cheekbones, same strong jaw, same stance even. The only difference is where Greyson has light brown hair, this guy has striking silver. If that’s Michael, I see why my grandmother would go for him. Talk about a silver fox.

  “Claire, darling, don’t you look lovely.” My grandmother pats my arm with a well-manicured hand and leans in for an air kiss. One cheek, not both. Anything else is crass, don’t you know.

  After she steps back, I put on my best posh accent and say, “Hello, Grandmother. This is quite nice, isn’t it?”

  She gives a closed-mouth smile. Her teeth aren’t great, so no one ever sees them unless she’s laughing. It’s rare. “Hannah and Paul are most excellent hosts. Michael and I have been very well looked after. Speaking of, come. Let me introduce you to him.”

  Grandmother’s smooth, I’ll give her that. She takes my arm again as if to pull me forward, but I stand firm and nod in Michael’s direction. “That’s Michael? And Greyson, of course.”

  Grandmother’s lips tilt up. “Yes. He’s quite handsome, don’t you think?”

  “Very.” And tall. And dark. And famous.

  “Come, let me introduce you.”

  In the six steps it takes for us to cross the room, I expect Grandmother to bring up her proposition again, but she doesn’t. I definitely assume she’ll try to sell me again, but she doesn’t. But she doesn’t look like she’s biting her tongue either, and I start to think either she’s giving me time to come around on my own or she’s come up with Plan B and I’m off the hook.

  Until we stop beside Michael and Greyson, and Greyson turns to me. His eyes flicker over my dress in a way that makes me glad it’s designer and he says, “So, we meet again. I hear you’re meant to be saving my sullied reputation.”

  And judging by his tone, he is none too pleased about it.

  Chapter Three

  My hand flies to my chest. I’d bet two shifts worth of tips at my part-time job at Brew Brothers Greyson interprets it as a Who? Me? Move. But before he can speak, Michael says, “Claire. It’s fantastic to meet you. Please, allow me to introduce my grandson, Greyson.”

  “Thank you. We’ve met.” I try to read the expression on Greyson’s face, which looks like it’s caught between a little cheesed off and full-blown irate. For some reason, his anger makes me a lot less nervous than his earlier charm.

  Grandmother smiles like she’s oblivious to his mood. “That’s fabulous. Michael, darling, let’s give these two some time to get to know each other. Perhaps after dinner, the four of us could speak privately.”

  I fix my eyes on Greyson. His posture is relaxed, but his fingers wind around his wine glass like boa constrictors—long, elegant boa constrictors—as he says, “That won’t be necessary.” To me he says, “Mike briefed me on the scheme you’ve all concocted and I’m not interested.”

  There’s no trace of the charming, slightly flirty guy I met an hour ago. In fact, Greyson’s face is a thundercloud now and I wonder at my own as a chill steals across my neck. “You think I…? I just…I mean, no. I’ve had nothing to do with it. I’m just as caught off guard as you are.”

  “I’m still not interested.” Greyson’s eyes flick over me with the same look I’d imagine he’d give a spider in his porridge, then he turns away.

  I gape at his broad shoulders crossing the room to the bar as Grandmother says, “You didn’t mention you’d met Greyson previously.”

  “Really?” I whirl to face her because her tone sounds awfully accusatory.
“It must have slipped my mind. I can’t imagine what could have distracted me.”

  “Oh, darling, don’t be dramatic.” Grandmother’s tone hardens a degree. “I haven’t met him before either, you know.”

  “That is not what I’m talking about,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “I am aware, which is why I suggested we all speak privately. This is not the time or the place, Claire.” Grandmother’s tone is steel now.

  I want to throw a tantrum, kick and shout like I used to when Grandmother would shut me down, but I have learned something since I was seven. Namely that the more emotional I become, the more distant she gets and the key to winning with her is meeting her at her own level of detachment.

  And I wonder why I have issues.

  “Fine, Grandmother.” I make sure to enunciate because it will annoy her. “I’m looking forward to our discussion.”

  “I’ll go talk to Greyson.” Michael’s been quiet throughout this exchange, but now takes a step. Grandmother’s hand on his arm stops him.

  “Darling, let him be for now. You knew he wouldn’t be keen.” To me she says, “Perhaps you can speak to him?”

  “You did see the way he looked at me? I doubt very much he’d welcome my efforts.” The only thing he might welcome is if I spray paint ‘Hell NO’ on the front of the bar, but come to think of it, I might like that, too.

  Grandmother doesn’t get to respond because at that minute Hannah St Julien, Scarlett’s mum and co-owner of Castle Calder, comes over carrying a tray of nibbles. She looks gorgeous in a deep red wrap dress that highlights the flush in her cheeks and sets off her shiny black hair. “Oh, Claire, Scarlett mentioned you’d arrived. We’re so happy to have you.” To Grandmother she says, “And Margaret, I hope you’re having a wonderful evening with your family all together. Has everyone arrived?”