The Heir and the Spare (24 page)

Preston chuckled. “Apparently, she's trying to find something to make Edmund lose interest in you. That's what Chloe told her friend anyway. It sounded like she and Jax aren't getting on anymore, though.”

“I guess that solves the mystery.” I looked up at the blue sky as a V of birds soared overhead. It was naive of me to think Jax would quietly fade into the background. I started walking again. “Why would she want the world to know I had connections to a duchess? How does that help her?”

Shrugging, he answered, “Maybe she knows Clarice is a horrible old witch who'd make your life miserable.”

Maybe she hoped Clarice would denounce me to the world.
I shook my head, my pace picking up an angry momentum.

“Are you okay?” Preston struggled to keep up.

“Who does she think she is?”

“Oh, she knows she's
Lady
Jacqueline. In her world, she can do no wrong. She'll stop at nothing to get what she wants. Her whole family is ruthless.”

“What's your history with her?”

Preston shook his head and tucked a thumb in the strap of his backpack. “It's nothing huge. Basically, her mum and mine used to run in the same circles, they were friends. That is, until Jax's mum decided to cut my mum out. All her friends turned against my mum. It changed her.” His brow wrinkled. “She was lonely and fell into a deep depression. Thanks to the whims of Jax's family, our family's had to live on the outskirts of society ever since.”

“Even with Edmund as your best friend?”

He nodded. “We're not titled.”

“Is your mom okay now?”

“She's okay; she's still ostracized and a little lonely, but she makes do. Therapy and medication have done wonders for her. She has a much quieter life now.”

I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I'm sorry she hurt your mom and your family.”

“Yeah well, watch your back. She wants Edmund and you know she's not going to give him up without a fight.”

Sighing, I released his hand. A breeze made the naked tree branches sway and dance. “Lovely. I'll add it to the pile of things I don't want to deal with right now.”

Preston threw his arm around my shoulder. “Edmund's smart; he won't get caught in her trap. He knows better.”

“Do you think he suspects she's responsible?”

“Doubt it.” Preston held the door to our dorm open for me.

I blew a raspberry. “My head hurts. I'm gonna go lie down. Thanks for the scoop.” I gave him a hug.

“See you later,” he called as I hiked up the stairs.

Unlocking my door, I tossed my bag on the couch. The light on my desk phone was blinking again.

What now?
A small part of me was afraid to push the button.

My head pounding, I grabbed my bottle of ibuprofen. Glass of water in hand, I chugged back two capsules and hit play.

“Hello, this message is for Miss Evangeline Gray. The Duchess of Westminster would like to schedule an appointment with you for tomorrow, Saturday, afternoon at one o'clock.” The nasally man's voice filled my room again. “She requests a
private
audience with you. Please call back to confirm.” He rattled off the same string of numbers he had left the other day.

What the hell is this about?
I threw myself on my bed.
I can't do this again.
Draping my arm over my eyes, I took a deep breath. What could she possibly want from me? There's no way she wants to see me again any more than I want to see her.

So why am I even considering it?

I stood and slipped out of my clothes, tossing them into the hamper. I didn't feel like going down to dinner tonight. It was a good thing I'd grabbed some snacks earlier.

Tank top and boxers on, I groped in my bag for my phone. I needed to call Dad. The proper thing probably would've been to call Clarice back. But I didn't feel like it. The old dragon could wait.

Comfortable on my bed, I tapped the little green phone icon. Pressed tightly to my ear, it rang. I looked at the clock. It was the middle of the night back in Seattle.

A groggy Dad answered. “Evie? Everything all right? What's wrong?”

I rubbed a hand on my forehead. “Everything's fine, I just really needed to talk to you. Do you want me to call back later?” My throat tightened. I knew I sounded on the verge of tears.
Please say no.

Through the phone I heard the rustle of his sheets. “What's going on? What happened? You sound upset.”

“I met Clarice,” I blurted. The phone line went silent. “Dad? You still there?”

He cleared his throat. “I'm still here. But did I hear you right? You met Clarice? Clarice your grandmother?”

I nodded. “Yeah, and there's something you really ought to know.”

“Oh boy, what's that?” His half-asleep voice was tinged with worry.

How do you tell your father that the love of his life had lived a huge lie? That she'd kept things, big things, from him? It's better to just get it over with, right?
Like ripping off a Band-Aid.

“She's—she's a duchess. A very wealthy one at that.”

I could hear his smile when he spoke. “Okay, wait, are you trying to tell me your grandmother's a duchess? Very funny, Peaches.”

“Dad, I'm not joking. She's Clarice Elliot, Duchess of Westminster. I saw a painting at her country estate of Mom as a little girl. When I met with her she knew about Mom. She still hates you. And she's not too fond of me either.”

He was silent a moment before asking, “Why didn't your mother tell me?”

“I don't know.” I closed my eyes and rubbed a hand over my face. “I've also been getting more letters from Mom. Not the birthday ones, but new ones, with tasks to accomplish. She led me straight to Clarice. Apparently there's a choice I have to make.”

“How are you getting these letters?”

“Anton.”

“You've met Anton?” Dad's voice cracked with surprise.

“Shortly after I got here.”

“Why have you been keeping this from me?” The pain and confusion in his voice pulled tight in my chest.

I sighed. “I don't remember why I thought it was a good idea in the beginning. I think I wanted to see what Mom was guiding me to first. And . . . it's weird, me telling you something about Mom.”

She should've told you. Not me.

“I'm not sure what to say.” He blew out a long breath. “This explains why she never let me meet her family and insisted on eloping. I suppose in a weird way it makes sense.”

My finger traced along the satin binding of my blanket as my pulse raced. “You okay?”

I didn't want this to change his memories of Mom. If he was mad at me for keeping her secret, I couldn't really blame him.

“Yeah, just surprised. So what's your grandmother
really
like?” He voice sounded distracted and far away.

“Awful. She was cruel, hateful, cold—nothing like Mom. I can see why Mom didn't want you to meet her. She was probably terrified that if you saw the kind of life she came from, you'd never have dared take her away from it.”

“That impressive, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” I sniffed and rolled my eyes.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “So what does this mean for you?”

“Absolutely nothing. Clarice wants nothing to do with me. She made that crystal clear. But at least I met her, right?”

“I suppose so. Have you told Edmund about this?”

“He was with me. He saw me blow up at her and thought it was pretty badass.”

“I knew he was a good guy.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, Dad, I really needed to hear your voice tonight. Sorry to call so late.”

“Eves, you can call me anytime. You know that. And as for Clarice, she's gone from your life. Don't give her any more space in your mind.”

“I kinda have to. She wants to see me again.” I pulled the strap of my tank top up and leaned against the wall, gasping as my bare skin met the cool paint.

“After her behavior, why would you go back?”

My face screwed up. An uneasy guilty feeling ran rampant through my brain.
I shouldn't go back.
“Because I'm curious. Why does she want to see me again after what we said to each other?”

“I wouldn't call her back.”

Reaching for my backpack, I pulled it onto my lap. “Maybe you're right. I'm still intrigued, though.”

Dad sighed. “Well, let me know what you end up doing. But be warned, if she hurts you, I'm going to come over there and she'll have to deal with me. After what I suspect she did to your mom, I'm tempted to anyway.”

“Thanks, Dad.” My heart felt lightened, unburdened by the sharing of my secrets.

Outside the gate to Clarice's townhouse, I looked up at the overcast sky and took a deep breath. Even the heavens matched my mood today.

What the hell am I doing here?

When I told Edmund this morning about going to see Clarice, he offered to join me. He was less than thrilled when I insisted on going alone. He'd called me mental.
He's probably right.

Refusing to be at her mercy, I took the train in. On the ride there I prepped myself to walk out if she laid into me again like I suspected she would.

Straightening my spine, I walked up the steps to her front door and rang the bell. Jeeves promptly answered.

“Miss Gray.” He nodded. “Please come in. I'll let the duchess know you're here.”

I sat on the bench, pumping myself up for another long wait then an ensuing battle. To my surprise Jeeves returned right away.

“The duchess will see you now. Please, follow me.”

Instead of guiding me toward her office again, we climbed the flight of stairs just beyond the foyer. After a brief knock on an oversized door, he opened it.

“Your Grace, Miss Gray to see you.”

“Send her in,” Clarice called. “Thank you, Denby.”

Denby smiled and allowed me to pass through the arched doorway. I surveyed the room. My eyes widened when I realized we were in a bedroom. It was clean and feminine, decorated in creams and violet.

This wasn't where I'd imagined our epic battle taking place.
Where are we?

“This was your mother's bedroom. Everything is just as she left it,” Clarice answered, as though she'd read my mind.

My mom's room?

I walked around, glancing nervously at Clarice, who reclined on a pale lavender chaise lounge. She'd caught me completely off guard. I hated how vulnerable that made me feel.

Without a word, I went to the window. Beside it sat a vanity, covered with half-used perfume bottles and silver-framed photos. I bent and looked closer. Most of the pictures were of Dad. There was a fantastic one of both of them standing in front of the Victoria and Albert Museum, smiling, arms around each other.

She's been there.
I smiled as tears welled up in my eyes. She was so beautiful and they looked so happy.
This is incredible.

I spotted a handwritten letter and picture lying on the desktop. I recognized Mom's handwriting instantly. The photo was of her and Dad on their wedding day. Mom wore a short, white, lacy summer dress, and Dad, khakis with a navy blue blazer. He had a pink peony in his lapel, matching Mom's small bouquet of peonies. His arm was around her, and he kissed her cheek.
Young and in love, just how it should be.

I cleared my throat, not wanting to get swept up in emotions. Backing away from the photos, I brushed the wetness from my eyes, and rounded on Clarice. “Why did you ask me here?”

Clarice sighed and stiffly said, “I wanted to apologize for my behavior at our last meeting. I fear you did not catch me at me best.”

When her eyes flashed to mine I saw the same anger and irritation that'd been there the first time we met. I didn't believe for a second she wanted me to come just so she could apologize. That was too big a change of heart. Especially when I'd yet to see any evidence of her actually having a heart.

“Is that so?” I met her eyes challengingly.

“Indeed,” she spoke, her lips tight.

“Right.” I chuckled. “Why am I really here? We both know you aren't sorry.”

Clarice raised her chin and sized me up. She looked paler than she had at our last meeting.

Here it comes. She's going to unleash the beast.
I nearly giggled at the thought of some foul creature bursting from this frail old woman's body. This was ridiculous. At least I wasn't as terrified as I was last time.

“Fine, I'll get straight to the point. I want to strike a deal with you.” She raised a withered hand to her hair, smoothing and patting the silver bun.

Okay, wasn't expecting that.
“What exactly do you have in mind?”

Clarice took a deep breath and gazed out the large window the chaise was positioned in front of. “I went to my doctor earlier this week. I've been battling breast cancer for the past year and a half.” She paused and met my surprised gaze.

Just like Mom.

“Apparently, I haven't been as responsive to treatments as the doctors would have liked. They're suggesting I get my affairs in order, quickly.” She looked away from me. The words seemed to have left a bitter taste in her mouth.

I scoffed.
I know what this is about.
“You don't have to worry, Clarice. You made yourself perfectly clear. I don't expect or want anything from you. I know you disowned my mother and I have absolutely no expectations of you or your estate.” I waved my hand around the grand room. Turning on my heel, I went to the door.

“You are so like your mother, far too headstrong and stubborn. You don't know what I was about to say. Sit down and listen to me, you impertinent girl,” she chastised me curtly.

I slowly turned, meeting her icy blue eyes. “What then? What do you want from me?”