His suite is as big and expansive as his sister’s, and the first thing I see is an entire wall of bookshelves, spanning from floor to ceiling. I’m tempted to park myself in front of it and trail my fingers along the spines of the books, finding out what merits a spot in his private collection. Positioned in front of the shelves is his desk, which is covered with several large computer screens and tablets. I know he’s always on his laptop, but I had no idea he was this into computers.
But then my eyes move from the desk, past the couch and armchairs arranged in front of the large fireplace, and go straight to the bed. It’s ordinary enough: big and broad and covered with a soft, fluffy dark green cover. But this is the bed that he shares with Blair. I’ve spent a fair amount of energy trying not to imagine the two of them together in bed, but I can’t avoid it now.
Strangely enough, the thought of them simply sleeping there beside each other, vulnerable and trusting, hurts just as much as the thought of them . . . not sleeping.
Turning away, I follow Poppy through a doorway into another, slightly smaller room. The nursery.
I have to will myself not to stop in my tracks. I need to see this, even if I desperately don’t want to.
The room is painted a beautiful stormy blue, like the color of Blair’s eyes. The wooden crib is painted white, matching the rest of the furniture. In the corner is a set of picture books stacked next to the tiniest armchair I’ve ever seen, and scattered across the walls are framed prints of illustrated giraffes and elephants.
Seeing all these charming little details that Blair must have been working on for weeks, it hits me. This baby is coming. She’s been preparing for it. Her baby. His.
As I stand here in this family suite, so obviously different from my room in the servants’ wing, I feel the color drain from my face.
Blair, Charlie, Poppy, the baby—they’re all family. I have no place here.
There are footsteps behind us, and I turn around to find Charlie walking into the room, and every muscle in my body tenses.
“Charlie, I love all the new details!” Poppy squeals. She spins in the room, her arms wide open, and for a moment, despite my aching awareness of Charlie, I can’t help but smile. “It’s going to be so fun to have a baby in the house,” she says, glowing, smiling widely at her brother.
He smiles, but his smile seems strained. “I’m glad you like it.”
She swoons over the soft blankets and tiny clothes hanging in the closet while I feel the weight of Charlie’s eyes on me.
“Poppy, can you give Fiona and me a second alone?” he says.
I look up at him, letting his eyes trap mine.
“Sure,” she says, unconcerned. “I’m going to go get some snacks.”
“Okay,” I mumble, unable to break my gaze from Charlie’s as she skips out the door.
“She’s so much happier now,” he says.
“She’s excited for the baby,” I say quickly.
“She’s happier because of you, too,” he adds. “Thank you for that.”
I don’t know what to say, so I keep my lips pressed firmly together.
“I hardly ever see you anymore,” he says softly.
There’s nothing for me to say to that, so I change the subject. “Congratulations, again, on the baby.”
“Thank you,” he says, looking around the room. “It’s starting to feel more real now.”
I can hear happiness, wonder, in his voice. He really wants this baby. He wants this family.
I like him more for it. Even as it pulls him further and further from me.
“Blair must be getting excited, too.” I try not to sound as tense as I feel.
He looks into my eyes then back at the crib. “She is. She never used to see herself as a mothering type. Her mum . . . wasn’t much of a mum. But she’s been reading all these parenting books and planning and . . . I think she’s going to be a great mother.”
I remember what Poppy told me, that Charlie told his mother that Blair didn’t talk to her family. That he was her family now. And she’s his family. No wonder he’s with her, no wonder he clings to her. She’s giving him a family, just when he’s lost most of his.
I swallow, hard, and try to keep my expression neutral.
“I didn’t know you were so technologically inclined,” I say, gesturing toward his desk in the other room.
He sighs. “It’s always been a hobby. And if I could convince the board and find funding for it, I’d love to work on the newspaper’s website. Make it accessible and more fast-paced, before it gets left behind. If we could hire more reporters, we could compete with breaking-news outlets, attract more readers. It could turn everything around. But no one wants to invest in newspapers now.”
“I know you can do it,” I say softly, and then he’s looking back at me, and I can’t meet his eyes. “Well, anyway, Poppy and I should get back to her homework,” I say, turning for the door before he can reply. I walk back through his bedroom and out into the hallway, leaving him there in the nursery. I force myself to look away from that bed, but every detail of it is imprinted in my mind.
Maybe that’s how it should be. Maybe I should finally do what I’ve been telling myself to do for weeks: Let him go.
• • •
I try my best to follow my own advice and lose this silly crush on Charlie over the next week. But it’s embedded so deeply in me now. Any sleep I manage to catch is filled with dreams of him. I can’t breathe when I run into him in the hallways, and when I come down for breakfast, all I can think about is seeing him in the dining room. I feel like my day doesn’t start until the moment his eyes meet mine. When he leaves for another business trip to Glasgow, I don’t know if I’m more disappointed or relieved.
The regional horse show is coming up, and Poppy spends more and more time with Copperfield, hardly focusing on her homework. Neither of us can talk of anything else, and when the Saturday of the competition finally comes, we’re both twisted in knots of stress and hope.
Charlie promises to take the morning train back from Glasgow and meet us there, and when it’s finally time to get Copperfield ready and go, Blair is waiting at the front door, wearing a white sheath dress and gray suede boots.
“I’ve decided to come along!” she declares cheerfully. “Everyone keeps talking about how phenomenal Poppy is, I have to see it for myself.”
Poppy beams back at Blair, but Blair’s smile fades quickly when she turns her gaze to me. “You can take the rest of the day off, Fee,” she says. “You’re not required this afternoon.”
I blink at her. “Oh no,” I protest. “I really want to come.”
“Stay home,” Blair orders sharply, though she covers it with a smile. “My future sister-in-law and I need some bonding time. I’m sure you understand.”
Future sister-in-law? The words hit me like piercing claws, raking my chest and leaving me bleeding. Has he proposed? Or is she just assuming? My throat dries, and I can’t speak.
Poppy opens her mouth and starts to speak up for me, but Blair interrupts. “You won’t deprive Fee of her time off, will you, Poppy? I’m sure she’s tired of taking care of you all day.”
Poppy looks at me uncertainly. “You can stay home, Fee.”
Blair’s lips curve upward, now that she knows she’s won. I should insist that I want to see Poppy compete in this event that means so much to her, but I know Blair will never let me go, no matter what I say. So I put on the best smile I can muster and tell Poppy, “Good luck.”
Blair nearly pulls her out the door before she can respond, leaving me on the doorstep to watch as they drive off with Albert.
CHAPTER 19
I spend the next few hours berating myself for not fighting back, for not telling Blair and Poppy that nothing in this world would keep me from seeing Poppy triumph at her show. I hate that I let Blair win so easily. I�
��m in the library, unsuccessfully trying to concentrate on a book, when I hear someone approaching. Charlie is standing in the doorway.
“How did she do?” I ask him before he even has a chance to close the door behind him.
“She placed first, of course. Looked wonderful out there.”
Hopping off the windowsill, I let out a sigh of relief and smile, but he doesn’t.
“Where were you?” he asks, stepping forward. “Blair said you wanted the night off. But you were even more excited about that show than Poppy was.”
“I know.” I try to keep my mouth shut, but I can’t help but admit at least a little bit of the truth. “Blair wanted time to bond with Poppy.”
He nods, though the confusion doesn’t leave his eyes. He picks up the book I’d been reading and examines the cover. “A history of the Black Death?” he asks softly. “So, light reading, then.”
“Blair told me she wanted to bond with her future sister-in-law.”
Charlie freezes, though his gaze is still intent on the book in his hand. I don’t think he’s even breathing. I know I’m not.
“Are you going to marry her?” I whisper before I can stop myself.
He turns toward me, setting the book down. The torture is plain in his green eyes, and suddenly his hands are on my shoulders, drawing me to him. For one dizzying moment, I let my eyes fall to his lips, and a strange buzzing sensation fills my entire body.
I pull my eyes back up to his to find that torture still twisting through them. He moves one hand from my shoulder to my cheekbone, brushing a finger along the line of it, then dipping that finger below my chin and lifting it up further.
My lips are a breath away from his, and I can’t breathe.
All of a sudden, I feel myself stepping back, pulling away from his touch. Someone gasps, and I’m pretty sure it’s me. I spin and run out of the room, and he says nothing to stop me.
I nearly kissed him. He nearly kissed me. He wants me, I think as I hurtle myself up the stairs toward my room. The thought makes me glow.
But he’s still going to marry her. I knew it when I saw the apology and torment in his eyes. I couldn’t let him kiss me, not when I know how much more it would hurt when he still chooses her.
• • •
Charlie and I start to play the avoidance game with each other once again. I begin to grab breakfast from the kitchen in the morning, making excuses to Poppy so I can evade the dining room. I keep to my room during the day, reading books in bed instead of on the library windowsill. When Poppy and I study in her room, I scamper down the hall past the closed door of his bedroom, where he seems to be hiding away with his computers.
In a few days he heads back to Glasgow again, and I try to feel glad about that. I can’t think clearly when we’re in the same house, so maybe when he’s gone I’ll finally get my feelings under control. I haven’t been able to sleep at night, knowing that he’s only a floor below, in bed with her. The whispers continue, and some nights the voices are so vivid, as if they’re speaking right into my ear. But even if they were to disappear, the whispers in my head would be loud enough to keep me awake. I’m so exhausted that my eyelids feel permanently heavy, and I’ve started falling asleep in the library during the day, dozing in the winter sun on the window seat.
A week after Charlie leaves for Glasgow, I’m reading on that window seat when Blair strides in. We haven’t spoken a word to each other in about two weeks, but today it seems as if she’s seeking me out. The curtain is open, so I know she sees me.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Poppy?” she says. “I wanted to invite her out on another shopping trip.”
“She’s riding Copperfield.”
“Oh, of course,” she says, pausing and looking at me before continuing, “You should have seen her at the show. I can’t stop thinking about it! It was as if she was born on a horse.”
“I wish I could have seen her,” I say quietly, trying to tamp down the anger boiling under the surface.
A shadow of a smile crosses her lips, though she does her best to hide it. “Well, if you see her before I do—”
I can’t help it. “I won’t let you do that to me again, you know,” I say. My voice is deadly cool, and I can’t believe I just said that. But now that the words are out there, now that she’s heard them, I can’t take them back.
“Do what?” she asks. The polished veneer has been rubbed right out of her voice, revealing only bitterness underneath.
I stand and turn around to face her. “I won’t let you shove me out of the way so you can be closer to Poppy. So that you can be closer to Charlie.”
“Who says you’re in my way?” she asks, tossing her hair behind her shoulder and crossing her arms. “Do you actually think that Charles would ever choose you over me? The shabby governess over the mother of his child? Do you think he even notices you?”
It’s been so obvious that Blair hates me, but I still can’t believe it’s out in the open. As mad as I am, at her and about this whole situation, I’m also relieved.
“I know he notices me.” My voice sounds even, confident, but inside I’m shaking.
“You’re delusional,” she scoffs.
Her words hit me like a slap, but I try not to flinch. “And you won’t win,” I snarl. “Whatever game you’re playing, you’re going to lose.”
“We’ll see about that,” she says with a growing smirk. She turns to leave, but just before she’s out the door, she says, “The truth is in the lily pads.”
“What?” I say, but she’s already gone. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
My hands are shaking. I grab a pillow from the window seat and squeeze until my knuckles turn white. I want to run through the hallways, yelling that I was right about Blair—that she’s a manipulative, psychotic bitch, just like I thought. But still no one would believe me. No one else seems to see past her facade, and I would be the one looking like a madwoman.
So what can I do? How can I fight, now that I know who the enemy is?
She’s clearly trying to do whatever she can to get rid of me. Maybe she’s even the one whispering at night, trying to annoy me, drive me out.
I’ll have to return the favor.
CHAPTER 20
If I’m going to fight, I’m going to need allies.
The next day, I visit Mrs. Mackenzie in the kitchens and ask her what she thinks of Blair, pretending that I’m worried about keeping my job once she becomes mistress of the castle.
Mrs. Mackenzie fixes me with her usual no-nonsense look. “At least the girl doesn’t come down here and ask me useless questions,” she snaps. “Now either start helping with the pie for tonight or get out of my kitchen.”
I check Mrs. Mackenzie off the list and decide to go find Albert. I head outside to the carriage house, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that I’m crunching through a thin layer of frost and a tiny powdering of snow. I’ve never seen real snow before, and I crouch down, touching the icy brittleness that lies over the grass. I smile, entranced for a moment by this beautiful cold. I stand up, and it hits me how far I’ve come from the red-dirt everyday sameness of Mulespur. I don’t ever want to go back there. I walk on, more determined now than ever.
The snow doesn’t seem to faze Albert, whom I find in the courtyard washing the car. He greets me cheerfully, but when I bring up Blair as casually as I can, he just sighs and looks at me with pity in his eyes.
“She seems to make the lord happy, lass. And he’s probably going to marry her, so I don’t worry myself too much wondering what I think of her.”
“Well, that’s exactly it—I worry about the lord. And Poppy, of course. You don’t think she’s a bit . . . fake?”
“No, but it sounds to me like you do,” he says as he wipes down the passenger side mirror. “I’ve never seen her be anything but polite and kind mys
elf. But I’m just an old man—everyone’s nice to old men. What do I know?”
“You’re right,” I say, realizing that Albert’s clearly not going to be any help. “Of course you’re right. I’m sure I’m just reading too much into things.”
“Happy to help, my dear.” He nods, and I turn back to the castle, realizing that my list of potential allies has dwindled to about zero. The maids and kitchen staff have been useless, even though I did my best to sound like I was only looking for a bit of friendly gossip. The only one I haven’t approached is Alice, who won’t even talk to me.
There’s only one other person I can think of, but I’m not sure if I can get him to talk to me either.
That afternoon, while Poppy is out on her ride, I pull my hood up against the wind and trudge through the glittering frost to the stables. The trek out there seems to take longer than usual, though I don’t know if it’s because of the freezing air or the dread I’m feeling about talking to Gareth.
My breath is coming out in puffs and my fingers are aching with cold by the time I make it to the warmth of the stables. Gareth is there, brushing down Oliver, stopping for only a moment when he spots me before going back to his task.
“Poppy’s still out,” he says. “Probably won’t be back for another half hour, maybe twenty minutes if she gets cold.”
“I’m here to talk to you, actually.”
He sighs, puts the brush down, and comes out of the stall to face me. “What about?” he asks.
I start with the most important thing, even though I’m pretty sure he’s already aware of it. “Well, first, Alice knows about us. About us, uh, kissing, I mean.” I stick my hands in my coat pockets, not knowing what else to do with them.
He breathes out one short, ironic-sounding laugh. “Yeah, she made that pretty clear a few weeks ago when she came out here, slapped me across the face, and stomped off,” he says with a wry smile.
“She slapped you?” I ask, kind of impressed.
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