by Ally Blake
“Who?”
Right. They hadn’t been talking about him, she’d just been thinking about him. “Your old friend, Will Darcy.”
“Not possible.”
“Something to do with my actions today, perhaps?” But even as she said it, Sadie knew it wasn’t that. Not entirely. It was something deeper. Something about her made him uneasy. Not what she’d done but who she was. And to think she’d thought she couldn’t feel worse!
“I know you. Making people feel comfortable is your special skill. You’ll work him until he adores you. You always do.”
“Alas, once I give him his phone back he’s outta here.” No response from Hugo. Which gave her pause. “Unless I’m missing something.”
“I’d like him to stay.”
Sadie sat up so fast she nearly fell off the chair. The thought of being stuck in the hotel room with Will—“working him until he adored her”, no less—made her feel itchy all over.
“Hugo—”
“I’d feel better knowing that you had company. At least until I can send for you.”
“A babysitter, you mean. So that I don’t get up to more mischief than I already have.”
“If you like.”
The ease of his about-turn gave him away. “You don’t think I need a babysitter. You think I need a bodyguard.”
How bad was it out there? For the first time since she’d run she wanted access to a TV. She remembered Janine from downstairs saying “the honeymoon suite” didn’t have one. Maybe she could ask Will if she could check out the news pages on his phone.
“Send Prospero,” she tried, imagining Hugo’s big, neckless, mountain-sized, actual bodyguard.
“Prospero wouldn’t leave me if ordered him to by royal decree. It has to be Will.”
She dropped her forehead into her hand.
“Humour me,” Hugo said.
He didn’t say, You owe me this much at least, but Sadie read between the lines. He’d been born into a royal bloodline, a flourishing principality run by very smart, savvy, forward-thinking people. Hugo could be a master manipulator when he wanted to.
If making things right meant having to put up with Will Darcy’s disquieting presence, then Sadie would just have to handle it.
“And what would you like me to tell your friend about this arrangement? Not my biggest fan, remember.”
“Just tell him I asked.”
“Really? He doesn’t come across as the kind of man who blindly follows.”
“Just tell him.”
“Fine. And when things die down? What then?”
“Then I’ll send someone to bring you home.”
Home.
Sadie stifled a whimper.
That Hugo could sit there, in the middle of the scandal of his life, and truly believe she could ever move back into his venerable ancestral home after what she’d done... He was the best man she’d ever known times ten.
“Anything you need until then?” he asked.
Clothes. A phone. Money. Her mum. A hug. A new place to live. For her students not to be out there thinking badly of her. For the people who knew her best to believe she’d had no choice. For the world to forget her name.
“I’m fine.”
“As for Will?”
“Mmm?”
“Take it easy on the guy. If he’s the same man I knew back then, he comes across as a big, gruff loner, but deep down he’s a good guy.”
“It’d have to be waaaay deep down.”
“Leo.”
“Fine! I’ll be sweetness and light.”
“I know you will. Now... Sorry. Hang on a moment.” Hugo put her on hold.
The village below was quiet in the looming gloom of late autumnal dusk. Through the curled iron of the balcony she watched a small, battered Fiat bump slowly along the street below. When a group of revellers pushed their way out the front door of a pub down the road, she ducked down so they wouldn’t see her.
And she suddenly felt terribly alone.
But while he had people clamouring to do his bidding, Hugo was far more alone than she was. He always had been. It came with the position, with the expectations thrust upon him from birth, with not knowing if people liked you for who you were or what you had to offer. And now, without her at his side, she feared he always would be.
Was that why she’d planned to marry him? Maybe. Partly. If so, at one time it had seemed like reason enough.
After a most inauspicious entry into the world, Sadie’s life had been blessed.
Educated by royal tutors. Given music lessons, dance lessons, drama lessons. During the latter, she’d discovered the direct link between putting on a show and having people look to her with smiles on their faces. Thus her love of theatre had been born.
But who deserved that kind of luck? Truly? People who earned it, who were grateful for every ounce; who were nice and kind and likeable; who made sure not to let down all those who’d been instrumental in giving her the chances she’d had.
The Muzak stopped as Hugo came back on the line. “Apologies. It was Aunt Marguerite.”
“Ruing the day she rescued my mother and me?”
“Asking if you are all right.”
Of course. “What did you tell her?”
“That if you’re not yet, you soon will be.”
Sadie let her feet drop to the ground, the freezing cold tiles keeping her in the here and now.
“I should go,” Hugo said.
“Me too. Busy, busy! You don’t have to send someone for me, you know. I’m a big girl.”
“I don’t have to, but I want to.”
Her eyes fell closed. Giving him that was the least she could do. “Do it soon.”
“As soon as I’m able. Stay safe.”
With that, Hugo rang off.
Sadie uncurled herself from the chair, shivering as she stood. The temperature had dropped fast as night closed in quickly. The sky was now a soft dusty blue, the mountains guarding the borders of her tiny country glowing white.
Just before she turned to head back inside, the first star popped into sight. She thought about making a wish, but had no idea what to wish for.
Will was on the couch, one foot hooked over the other knee, fingers running back and forth over his chin.
He looked up at the sound of the French door sliding closed, a slice of moonlight cutting his strong face in half. “All’s well in the state of Denmark?”
Sadie’s mouth twitched. She could count on one finger the number of men who’d quoted Shakespeare at her without knowing what a geek-fan she was.
She walked over to Will and gave him back his phone, then took a seat on the other couch. “Princess Marguerite is hosting the party to end all parties in the hope of either giving everyone the night of their lives so they leave with only good to say, or they are too hungover to speak of it.”
“Seems a pity to be missing it.”
Sadie coughed out a bitter laugh. “For some strange reason, I’m struggling to imagine you partying. You seem a little straight for all that. More of a cognac and non-fiction tome kind of guy.”
Will breathed out hard, his hands coming together, fingers running over fingers in a hypnotic pattern. “Is that what you came in here to say?”
Well, no. But it had felt good to have a dig at the guy anyway. Hugo clearly thought more highly of her “working it” skills than she did.
Enough dilly-dallying. Time to get this over with. Hugo seemed to think Will would stay simply because he’d asked him to. Hugo believed Will was a good guy. And that had to count for something.
So, while the words felt like stones in her mouth, she managed to say, “While I feel like I’m taking the feminist movement back decades by asking this, is there any chance you could stick around until Hugo sends someone to whisk m
e out of here?”
Will sat forward. His hand went to his watch—big, fancy, classy—twisting it about his wrist as he made his decision.
It hadn’t occurred to her until that moment that he might say no—claim work, or play; claim a jealous wife or a sick child or a job that needed him more. That he might leave her here, in this honeymoon suite with its princess bed and its view of the palace.
“And how long might that be?”
“I...don’t know. As soon as humanly possible.”
“Is this a request from you, or Hugo?”
“Does it matter?”
The slight tilt of his head told her it did.
Well, buddy, you rub me up the wrong way too. The funny thing was, though, sitting there beside him, her hairs standing on end, a tornado in her tummy, prickling under the burn of his hot, hard gaze, being on his bad side felt like the safer option.
Sadie shuffled forward on the chair, held her hands out in supplication and said, “Look, I get that I’m not your favourite person.”
There, now it was out there. Maybe that would alleviate the tension sapping the air from the room.
“But neither am I some damsel in distress, if that’s what you think.”
To that he said nothing.
“The truth is, you don’t know me. You just happened upon me at just about the crappiest moment of my entire life. And now I’m exhausted. And hungry. And stuck in a hotel room with a stranger. Which isn’t going to bring out my best. I promised Hugo I’d be sweetness and light, but I’m not sure how long I can keep that up. So, stay, don’t stay; right now I’m done caring.”
Will looked cool as a cucumber as he said, “Is self-sabotage a habit of yours?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m simply going by the evidence. I’ve known you a couple of hours and in that time you’ve rejected a prince and done your all to convince me to throw my hands in the air and give up on you.”
“I’m not! I—”
“Then my staying won’t bother you.”
Oh.
“Not a jot,” she said.
She lied. He bothered her. But that was just the price she had to pay.
“Then that’s that,” said Will.
Sadie breathed out hard and flopped back into the couch, feeling better about having a plan, even if it wasn’t hers.
Will opened up his battered silver bag to pull out a laptop. He flipped it open, long fingers tapping in a password. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get some work done.”
Sadie flapped a hand his way, barely wasting a thought wondering what that work might be. He was a doctor of some sort. Did they give doctorates in such pedantic things as forensic accounting, or comment moderating?
She closed her eyes for a second. When she peeled her eyes open—five seconds later, or five minutes, she couldn’t be sure—it was to find Will looking at her strangely.
Sadie followed the path of his gaze to find her gown had fallen open. Not much—enough to show her collarbone and a little shoulder. Maybe a swell of something more, but nothing to get excited about.
When she found his eyes again his jaw clenched, as hard as stone. His nostrils flared with the fervour of a racehorse, then with patent effort tore his gaze away.
Sadie was surprised to find her hands shaking as she surreptitiously tugged her dressing gown back together. And her heart beat like gangbusters.
He didn’t like her. But it turned out he was very much aware of her.
The horrible truth was that she was aware of him too. The sure strength of his arms, the scent of his neck, the intensity of his gaze had been playing like a brutal loop in the back of her mind whenever she felt herself begin to relax.
And now they were stuck here, in this romantic hotel room.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Sadie had fallen asleep on the couch almost instantly.
A few hours later she lay there still, breathing softly through open lips, her lashes creating dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her gown...
Will looked away from her dressing gown and ran a hand over his face. A move he’d made so much in the past day he was in danger of rearranging his features permanently.
Will refocused on his laptop—not that it looked any different from the way it had ten minutes before. The internet was prohibitively slow, meaning he couldn’t check Natalie’s updates to his calendar. Or access Hubble’s latest infrared take on Orion that was due to land, eyes only, that morning. Or open the latest incarnation of the Orion’s Sword game sitting temptingly in his inbox.
And he’d had no word from Hugo.
Edgy and frustrated, Will rolled his shoulders, got up, started a fire and checked out the kitchen, to find only a few mini-bar items. He could have done with some real food, but, since he wasn’t lucky enough to be at the non-wedding reception—aka the party to end all parties—he had to make do with instant coffee and a bar of chocolate-covered ginger.
The fire made short work of the cold room, so, needing some fresh air, Will headed to the balcony. The village was spread beneath him like something on the front of a Marks and Spencer biscuit tin.
Sipping on the bitter brew, he looked up. And promptly forgot to swallow.
For the perfect day had given way to an even more perfect night.
The combination of minimal light pollution from the old-fashioned gas lamps below, the elevated position of the hillside hotel and a first-quarter moon had made the galaxy come out to play.
* * *
From his cramped position tucked into the corner of the small balcony, Will found a nice angle on his target and racked up the focus.
His serious telescope—with long exposure CCD camera attachment—which lived in the permanent glass box atop his London town house, had collected more detailed images of the nebula’s famous irregular, translucent fan-shaped cloud, and ultraviolet glow. But this telescope—smaller, older, less sophisticated—was the one he took with him all over the world.
It was the last gift he’d received from Clair.
He’d added to it over the years. Modified it to keep it relevant. And right now, as always, it did right by him, giving him a really nice shot of vivid grey-green mist enshrouding a distant star.
But what he was really hoping for was—any moment now—There! A shooting star. And another. The annual Orionid Meteor Shower in all its glory.
Will sat back in the freezing wrought-iron chair and did something he rarely took the time to do nowadays: he watched the sky with his own two eyes. The moment seemed to require it.
It was late. A ways after midnight. And the entire world felt quiet. Still. Slumberous and safe within the cradle of jagged mountains all around. It was as though this spot had a direct link to the heavens.
“Will?” Sadie’s voice cut through his thoughts.
His chair scraped sharply against the tiled floor of the small balcony as Will arose.
Sadie stood in the French windows, nibbling on a bag of peanuts. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing. You should... Oh.” Her eyes widened comically as she spotted the apparatus taking up most of the balcony. She stepped out onto the tiles, wincing at the cold beneath her bare feet. “Was this here the whole time?”
Will laughed, the rough sound drifting away into the darkness. “I brought her with me.”
“Her?”
Will put a hand on the body of the telescope. “Sadie, this is Maia. Maia—Sadie.”
“Pretty name. An old flame?”
“A young star. Found on the shoulder of Taurus.” Will pointed unerringly towards the bull constellation without even having to look.
“So that’s what you had hiding in your silver case! By the measly contents of your other bag I’d have bet you were planning on skedaddling tomorrow at the very la
test. And yet you lugged this thing all the way here? Why?”
“Did Hugo not mention what I do for a living?”
She grimaced. “No. Maybe. He mostly told stories about your time at school. How you led him to the dark side, teaching him how best to ditch class. Or the time he dared you to petition the school to reinstate Domestic Science and you won. So many Boys’ Own adventure stories I may have drifted off now and then.” Her eyes darted to the telescope and back again. “So...this. This is what you do? What are you? Some kind of...astronomer?”
Will nodded.
And Sadie’s eyes near bugged out of her head. “Really? But that’s so cool! I imagined you in a career that was more...phlegmatic. No offence.”
None taken. In fact, he took it as a compliment. A high level of impassivity was necessary to doing his best work. Besides, Will was too busy noticing she seemed to imagine him a fair bit. But he kept that noticing to himself.
“Hugo’s friends are all in their family business—money, politics, ruling.” She scrunched up her nose. “But not you. Unless astronomy is your family business...?”
“My family business was holding on tight to old money. And my grandmother’s version of ruling was browbeating the butlers until they quit. This seemed a better choice.”
Her hair rippled in the light breeze. “I would have thought that kind of thing was done by computers nowadays. Super-robots.”
“Computers can certainly extrapolate data, make comparisons, find patterns in big, random, violent actualities that rise and fall over billions of years before we’ve even seen their first spark of light in our sky. But—as my old university mentor, Professor Templeton, used to remind us—the first step, the human element in all that, is to wonder.”
“I like the sound of your professor.”
“He was one of the good ones.”
“You’ve surprised me just now, Will Darcy. Quite a bit. So what are you looking for?”
“That’s a big question.”
Sadie laughed. And waggled her fingers at the telescope.
“Ah,” said Will. “You mean in there.”
She laughed again, her eyes gleaming. The quiet, the dark, the late hour...they all promoted a sense of playfulness. Or maybe that was simply her: mischievous, bright, irreverent, with an agile open mind.
