by Lucy Parker
Maya blanched. Bullseye. But under Freddy’s scrutiny, her acting ability made a belated return and her expression smoothed out. Too little, too late, but clearly she didn’t want Freddy’s help or a sympathetic ear. Well, fair enough. It was none of Freddy’s business, and God knew she had no intention of sharing her own tale of Sadie woe with Maya.
All Sadie could do was taunt Freddy, but she’d managed to turn Maya into her unpaid PA. Apparently Maya’s misdemeanour, whatever it was, had worse repercussions for her if Sadie blabbed.
“Sadie asked if I’d mind, since I was coming out here anyway, and I thought it was best for cast relations to just agree,” Maya said firmly, her eyes not quite meeting Freddy’s.
It was true that it was better not to rock the boat at this point. No matter how much you disliked your castmates, on opening night—or only night, in this case—you left that in the wings. The production sailed or sank on the combined efforts of everyone involved.
Freddy still didn’t believe a word Maya was saying. Since she wasn’t going to be a hypocrite and force the issue, she just made a humming noise. “You’re doing brilliantly with Elizabeth.” She directed the conversation into safer territory. “You might have a Darcy who occasionally looks like he has salmonella, but people are going to love your Elizabeth.”
Maya seemed to force her mind back into the present. “I hope so. I love how nuanced you’re making Lydia. She’s really coming alive in your performance.”
“I hope it’s going to go well,” Freddy said, with a renewed flip of nerves in her stomach. With all the balls that were in the air, her attention was divided, but she was increasingly aware of how few hours were left before the cameras went live. And before Fiona Gallagher made her entrance.
“Oh God, so do I. I’m not used to having to combine camera angles with stage positioning, and I avoid interviews like the plague, so I’ve never actually done a live broadcast before. Have you?”
“I did the royal charity performance, but that’s pre-taped. Oh.” Freddy grimaced. “And I did an interview on Nick Davenport’s show.”
Maya’s head jerked. “Right. He’s coming tomorrow. And so is your sister.” Talk about couples growing to look like each other; now they had a green-tinged Elizabeth as well as a sick-looking Darcy. “Um...was it scary? The interview with Nick Davenport?”
Freddy was apprehensive about the live pre-show coverage, as well, but not because she was worried about the interview segments. Sabrina was still off in fairyland about Ferren, who’d obviously snuck off to London to see her a few times this week, and nothing seemed to wind Nick up more than when the tabloids were full of pictures of Sabs and Ferren wrapped around each other in nightclubs. They each liked to remain the most high-profile. Hopeless publicity hounds, the pair of them.
Freddy felt all defensive about them making a scene on Griff’s property.
She seemed to have become the dull, responsible member of the family.
“Not so much scary as irritating,” she said. “I got a grilling about my personal life. Nick decided to push the line that I was shagging Dylan.” Maya shot her a quick look. “God. Give me some credit. Of course I wasn’t.”
Something in Maya’s face, some tiny change, registered, and Freddy froze in the process of weaving her sweaty hair into a plait. “Oh my God. Are you?” It was nosy as fuck, but the question tumbled out before she could stop it, and Maya’s face flushed, deep and ruddy.
“What? No!” Her words stumbled over each other. “God, no. Don’t be silly. I get enough of having to cuddle up to Dylan onstage.”
Freddy stared at her suspiciously, but her attention snagged on the cars rolling up the driveway. She recognised the one in front. “Speaking of the interview segment, here comes half of the chat-show invasion. That’s Sabrina.”
Maya bolted. Just turned and dashed off towards the theatre, still holding Sadie’s plate of food, and Freddy looked after her in astonishment. Jesus. That didn’t bode well for Maya making it through her share of the interview tomorrow.
“If it isn’t my baby sister, the budding TV star.” Sabrina slammed her car door and advanced on Freddy, grinning. Ferren’s sneak visits to London seemed to have put her in a better mood since the last time Freddy had spoken to her.
She wasn’t sure how her sister had even got out of the car in her skin-tight midi skirt and sky-high heels, but she looked fab. With an envious look at Sabrina’s red hair, which seemed to defy all laws of the curly-headed and never frizz, Freddy went forward to give her a hug.
Sabrina squeezed her. “How’s it going? Are all signs pointing to a smash hit?”
“There’ve definitely been signs recently,” Freddy said, stepping back. “But who knows where they’re pointing? Are you here to do recce?”
“We always finalise preparations on-site if we’re broadcasting outside the studio.” Sabrina smoothed back a red curl and looked around. “Oh, what a beautiful place.” Hands on her hips, she turned in a circle, taking everything in, then cast Freddy a wicked glance, her vivid green eyes sparkling. “You didn’t forget which character you’re playing and do an Elizabeth Bennet, did you? Do we mark the moment you were prepared to overlook Malfoy’s faults to your first seeing his beautiful grounds here at Highbrook?”
Freddy shot her a look, and her sister grinned. “Have The Davenport Report team been here yet, by the way?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
“How slapdash and fly-by-night of them.” Sabrina elevated her ski-jump nose. “I’m surprised. Davenport is such a competitive bastard that I thought he’d have been paying nightly visits to secure the best camera angles.”
“Yes, it’s a shame you’re so retiring and bashful yourself. The way you just let him walk all over you is really tragic.”
Sabrina laughed, and Freddy added, with a shade of apprehension, “You guys aren’t going to rumble tomorrow, are you? We’re trying to walk the line between good publicity for the show and not being overshadowed completely when you and Nick come together to film in the same location and the universe implodes.”
“Fear not, little sis. I’m a professional, and he’s too vain to make himself look bad on live TV. We’ll be so polite you won’t know us.”
“In that case, I suspect I won’t.”
“It’s a great location. It’ll make a nice change from the studio or getting blown about on the banks of the river. Dad didn’t kick up too much of a stink about you doing this show against his advice, did he?”
Freddy glanced at her quickly. “Why? You haven’t heard from him, have you?”
“No. But that’s not unusual. He’s not interested in what I’m up to.” Sabrina sounded completely blasé about that, but Freddy often wondered how indifferent she really was.
“I’m sure he’s proud of you.”
Sabrina made a disparaging noise. “Right. That’s why he’s never once watched the show, didn’t call to congratulate me when I was promoted to full-time, and hasn’t even remembered my birthday for the past few years.”
Rupert never remembered Freddy’s birthday these days, either. It was only audition dates he seemed to recall with perfect accuracy.
It hadn’t always been like that. Mostly, she had to admit, but there had been times...moments, memories...
“Remember your twelfth birthday? You were really into baking back then. You said you were going to be a famous patisserie chef when you grew up. And Dad took us to Paris for the day, and managed to get Suzette Morel to invite you into her salon.” It was one of her clearest early memories. “He helped you make a cake.”
Sabrina’s profile was set as she stared at the house, but her lips moved in a tiny tremor before she pressed them together. “No,” she said, eventually, and her tone didn’t invite further reminiscence. “I don’t remember that.”
Freddy looked at her silently, and touched her hand. “
I’m proud of you.”
Sabrina turned her head, and her eyes warmed back to their usual green brilliance. “Likewise, Peanut.”
“Sabs.” Freddy hesitated. She felt she owed it to their father to tell him first what she’d discovered about Henrietta, but Sabrina had worked so hard and come so far in her career, and the potential fallout from this could affect her as well. She deserved a heads-up. “About Henrietta and The Velvet Room—”
Sabrina groaned. “Freddy, I read the bloody play, but I don’t really want to have another cosy chat about Grandma. And I have to meet our executive producer over at the house in about—”
“You need to know this.” It was Freddy’s turn to cut her off, and Sabrina went immediately speculative. Out with the snarky sister, in with the journalist.
“Sounds serious.”
“It is. Akiko obviously hasn’t mentioned anything.” She was getting flustered. When Sabs stared like that, it felt like they ought to be sitting under hot lights in a studio, cameras rolling.
“She’s in on the secret, is she?” Sabrina suddenly pressed a fingertip to the spot between Freddy’s brows. “You’ve got a fucking stress twitch. What the hell’s going on?” Before Freddy could answer, she glanced hastily at her watch. “Shit, I am running short on time. Is it urgent, or can we have a proper sit-down in the weekend?”
Freddy couldn’t imagine they would be taking any action until The Austen Playbook was safely wound up. One problem play at a time. “Okay.”
At that moment, there was movement in her peripheral vision as Griff came out of the theatre and headed for the woodland path. He saw them and nodded once at Sabrina before his eyes found Freddy’s and locked there. Even at a distance, the connection kicked her breath into an unsteady rhythm.
Sabrina cleared her throat loudly and Freddy jumped. “Will this mysterious discussion involve my dear Lord Disdain over there, by any chance?”
“Only indirectly.” A slight stiffness was creeping over her, that protectiveness where Griff was concerned. Sabrina had made her opinion of him frank enough in the past, and Freddy doubted she was going to be singing a different tune now.
She wasn’t.
After giving her another hard stare, Sabrina groaned. “Oh, God. You’re sleeping with him.” She shook her head. “Considering the resounding deficits of his personality, character and manners, and everything he’s said about you in the past, he must be bloody amazing in bed to put that look on your face.”
“Oh, he is. But that’s not why I l-like him so much. And there’s nothing wrong with his character or his personality.” Freddy skipped over the manners aspect. She was completely lost over Griff, but she wasn’t delusional. He wasn’t exactly Britain’s answer to Emily Post.
Sabrina hadn’t missed the slight hesitation before that “L” word. The spark of concern in her eyes deepened. “You’re not...getting in too deep, are you?”
Suddenly, Freddy could understand a little more why Sabrina slammed down a barrier the moment Freddy mentioned her relationship with Ferren. “Every day, I think I’m in as far as it’s possible to go.” She spoke slowly. “And then I find we’ve swum a bit farther, and I can’t imagine the tide is ever going to turn.” Coming back to herself, she lifted one shoulder. “Despite everything that’s going wrong, in some ways I feel so lucky right now.”
Sabrina tapped her nails against the plastic cover of her phone. “I don’t want to be rude, but your judgment where men is concerned hasn’t always been the best.”
Freddy’s head jerked. First of all, Sabrina could turn that accusation right around and direct it at herself. And secondly—“Are you seriously throwing what happened with Drew Townseville in my face?”
“No, of course not. You were a baby. It’s not your fault that piece of shit took advantage. But you do have a track record of falling for pretty faces and words, and tumbling into infatuation with dickheads. And it never lasts. I just—don’t want you to invest too much and get hurt.”
Her body taut, Freddy considered her response. “I don’t think there was anything wrong with testing the waters, enjoying my feelings, especially when I was younger.” Her eyes met Sabrina’s. “This isn’t the same. It’s...more.” So very much more. “And if you hadn’t noticed, I’m a grown woman. If I end up getting hurt, I would still never regret falling for him. I’m not going to hold back on investing in him just because there are no guarantees in life.”
Sabrina sighed. “But Ford-Griffin. He’s such a—”
“He’s loyal, and he respects me, and he treats me well.” Freddy should have left it at that, but her family insisted on believing she was incapable of making the right decisions without their input, and the frustration bubbled over. “Which is more than you can say about Ferren.”
Sabrina went equally rigid. “I told you—”
“Yes, you’ve told me quite a lot of things about Ferren,” Freddy said with a sharp edge. “And about Griff. And I’m sorry, but our opinions differ drastically as to which of us is investing unwisely in a man who’s really a bit of a shit.” Once she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop. “I don’t think you’re in a position to make sweeping statements about—about enduring love. In the very beginning, I thought you and Ferren were like this romantic ideal, but no matter how good it might be with him at times, he treats you and everybody else like crap the moment he doesn’t get his own way. He’s reckless, he’s selfish, he does not care. And I love you so much, and you’re worth so much more than that.”
The silence that followed was broken only by their jagged breaths. They stood staring at each other, with clenched fists.
Sabrina’s eyes were bright. She parted her lips, started to say something, and then turned on her heel and walked away.
Freddy stayed there motionless on the grass for so long that the time ran out, and she had to literally sprint back to The Henry. They were using prop swords onstage today and unless she fancied decapitation by blunt blade, this wasn’t the time to test Maf’s patience.
The rest of rehearsal proceeded smoothly enough, but with taut undercurrents everywhere. Freddy felt as if they were all balancing on a wafer-thin high wire that could snap at any moment. Maya kept darting glances at Sadie between scenes. She definitely had the look of someone who’d done something wrong, knew she was going to be found out, and was waiting for the axe to fall.
Dylan was flirting, which was normal, and Ferren was brooding, which was alarming. If he was starting on a downward spiral, the crash was always spectacular. One day; he just had to hold it together for one more day.
Mid-afternoon, Sabrina and her team came in to see the interior of the theatre. Sabs was always careful not to cause disruption whenever she filmed on location, but several of her crew were less conscientious, and Maf gripped her hair in both hands when a cameraman crashed about with his equipment. The commotion threw Maya off her stride and she stumbled over a line, and Sadie quivered with sadistic amusement.
Sabrina and Ferren locked eyes, and Ferren’s expression underwent a complete transformation. He leapt from the stage, landed at Sabrina’s feet, and took her hands in his. She looked up at him between her lashes.
Freddy tightened her grip on the prop embroidery she was holding. The intensity when those two were together was undeniable. Considering Sabrina was her sister, it was a bit awkward that they absolutely radiated sexual tension.
She had once thought that it was love between them. Passionate and exciting and turbulent, but underneath, something real.
Now, having seen Akiko and Elise support and shelter each other through some very difficult times, and...and feeling the way she did herself, she thought that what was between Sabrina and Ferren was sex, and history, and mutual destruction.
When Griff came to find her after rehearsal, she was sitting outside the theatre on a wooden bench, watching the sky streak into shades of pink and
orange, the trees becoming dark silhouettes against the pastel horizon. She held her phone on her lap. Lots of messages, but still nothing from her father.
Griff’s hair was damp from a shower and he looked exhausted. He sat down next to her, and put his hand over hers. Their fingers twined together.
It was very quiet for once, all the people and work and madness temporarily banished. All she could hear was the faint trill of an insect nearby.
After a moment, Freddy leaned her cheek against his shoulder, and felt his fingers tighten on hers.
Chapter Sixteen
Friday morning—Just hours to go
There was a knack to shower sex. And they didn’t have it.
Freddy fell back against the wall of the stall, pushing her wet hair out of her face, giggling helplessly. Every morning this week, she’d woken up with that tense, anxious expression that sat so poorly on her naturally happy face, and it was a relief to see her laughing. Even if it had come at the expense of a mutual failed orgasm and a near drowning.
Griff propped his arm against the opposite wall and slicked back his own hair. “I’m assuming that wasn’t quite what you had in mind.”
“Well.” Freddy grinned at him. “No. When I said ‘cinematic shower sex,’ the film I was thinking of wasn’t The Abyss. I wasn’t sure we were going to make it out alive at one point. I take full responsibility for blocking the drain with my foot.”
“And I apologise for knocking down the faucet.” Griff shook his head. They were both naked and wet, but even with a hint of bite back in the air today, his chest warmed as he looked at her.
Her cheeks were flushed and her curls were straggling in ropes over her shoulders, and his precisely ordered life seemed to have exploded into chaos since he’d met her.
And he was so bloody in love with her.
He’d wondered if the intensity of his feelings for her could possibly last or if he’d feel differently in an hour, a day, a year.
