The Heir and the Spare (29 page)

I really hope he comes.

The driver stopped in front of the church and came to open my door, his eyes not meeting mine. Photographers flanked the entry.
Who'd want to photograph a funeral?

I climbed the steps to the church. A few people who'd visited the townhouse saw me and nodded with tentative smiles. Some even came over and hugged me, like they knew me.

Since coming to England, this was the loneliest I'd felt. Dad offered to come over, but I told him not to bother. Clarice would've sat up in her coffin and shooed him out.

I walked down the hardwood aisle and sat in the front. The first few pews were ribboned off, reserved for family and close friends. I was relieved her lawyer, Thomas Collingsworth, and Anton were sitting there already. I'd spent so much time with them recently they felt like family. It also meant I wouldn't have to sit alone.

“Hello, Thomas, Anton.” I nodded.

Anton stood and hugged me. “Evie.”

“Your Grace.” Thomas smiled warmly.

Him calling me that still startled me. Heck, when anyone did, it threw me for a loop. I shook Thomas's hand and sat next to Anton.

Organ music reverberated through the large stone church as people took their seats. I glanced back at the doors, hoping to find a familiar face from school. I wasn't counting on it, though; finals were too close.

The benches filled quickly. I spun around and saw the bishop come through the side door near the pulpit.
Here we go.

I blew out a deep breath. Today had just begun, yet I was drained.

“Have you given any thought to the advice I gave you, Your Grace?” Thomas leaned around Anton and spoke softly.

“I have, and I agree. I intend to keep her staff on at all the houses.” Houses, plural. Clarice was like a female Daddy Warbucks. My bank account now held a staggering amount of money and I was officially the Duchess of Westminster. My life was unrecognizable from the one I'd known when I'd first arrived in England.

What seriously blew my mind was that, from my title alone I made an income—a very large one. It apparently had to do with the land I now owned. And I owned lots of it. Well, I would once I got my dual citizenship sorted out. In addition to all this land, I now had the townhouse in London, Welsington Manor in Brighton, a villa in Italy, an apartment in Paris, and a cottage in Ireland.

What the hell am I gonna do with all that?

“I think that's a wise move.” Thomas's eyes crinkled as he smiled at me.

“Agreed.” Anton gave my knee a comforting pat. I was glad he was here.

I felt someone sit beside me on the end of the pew. I turned to say hello. My pulse jumped.
He came.
Edmund wore a black suit, but it may as well have been silver and metal, because at this very moment, he was my knight in shining armor. My shoulders relaxed and I gave an appreciative nod.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, as the church dramatically quieted.

I didn't trust my voice at the moment, not with my eyes stinging. With a small smile, I nodded. He knew I was about to cry. Taking my hand in his, he squeezed it tight and gave me his endearing grin.

“We are gathered here today to remember a remarkable woman. The Duchess of Westminster, Clarice Augustine Eustace Goddard Elliot.”

The bishop continued to speak, but the only thing I could concentrate on was Edmund. I didn't have to face this by myself. He came for me.

Afterwards, he didn't leave my side as I accepted the condolences of Clarice's friends and acquaintances.

“Do you mind if I ride with you to the gravesite?” Edmund whispered in my ear at a break in the mourners.

Clarice had arranged to be buried next to her husband, Maxwell. They would spend eternity together in a small churchyard in Brighton, near their country estate.

“Please do,” I said, glad I wouldn't be alone with my thoughts.

Anton approached us and gave Edmund a nod. “Your Highness.”

“Anton.” Edmund shook his hand.

Turning to me with a smile, Anton reached in his jacket pocket. “Evie, I must apologize. I've been carrying this around with me, meaning to get it to you, but it kept slipping my mind.” Out came a letter.
My final quest letter.

I took the envelope from his hand and stared at the scrawled number six on the back. “I forgot about it, too. Thank you, Anton.”

“Of course. I'll see you at the gravesite.”

I nodded. As Anton left, I saw the bishop on a path toward us.

“Your Highness.” The bishop addressed Edmund, then turned to me. “Your Grace, we'll be ready to proceed to the burial site shortly, once people are finished paying their last respects.” He inclined his head toward the coffin where people were standing, waiting to have a moment of silence, prayer, or whatever with Clarice.

“Thank you.” I nodded.

“Have you had a chance to say your goodbyes?” Edmund asked as the bishop walked away.

“I have. Last night, I went to the funeral home with Mr. Collingsworth and Anton to make sure everything was to Clarice's exacting specifications.” I smiled at the memory of the long list of dos and don'ts regarding her funeral.

“I'm glad.” He lifted my hand and pressed his lips tenderly to the back of it before releasing it. Once the majority of mourners left, Edmund asked, “Are you ready to go?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Edmund guided me down the church steps then helped me into the car. He grabbed my hand again and we sat in silence as the car wove through the crazy London streets, taking us toward the motorway and
my
country estate. I still couldn't believe all this.

In the end, it hadn't been as much of a choice as Mom thought it'd be.

Edmund's deep voice startled me. “My timing is crap, I know, but we have a bit of a drive ahead of us and this is making me mental. Can I ask you something?”

I nodded, curious where this was going.

“This only friends thing, are you sure it's what you want? Because I don't.”

I stared at my hand in Edmund's and shrugged. “I'm tired and burnt out. I haven't had a chance to think of anything but Clarice and her estate.”

Edmund turned to face me; his eyes never left mine as he spoke. “There is nothing between Jax and me. If you look at the picture, my hands are on her shoulders because I'm pushing her away. She and I agreed to be friends and
only
friends. I told her how I felt about you.”

How about telling me how you feel?
In all the months I'd been here, neither of us had really said anything about our feelings. Yet here he is confiding in
her
, which bothered me.

When I didn't say anything, he continued. “You have nothing to worry about.”

I stared into his eyes, unsure what to say. A warm itchiness overtook my body. I pulled at the collar of my dress with my free hand. The car seemed to shrink and close in on us. “Give me time to process everything. Right now, I just . . . I can't.”

He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

I stared out the rain-spattered window. My stomach churned. I needed to get out of the car, get some fresh air into my lungs. My hands were starting to sweat, as was my upper lip. I ripped my hand from Edmund and leaned toward the driver.

“Can you pull over, please?”

“Now, Your Grace?” The driver's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. The "Your Grace" was the final straw. I wasn't sure I wanted this life. I hadn't been able to properly breathe since I'd met Clarice. I needed space.

“Yes, now,” I said louder than I intended. Softening my voice, I added, “Please.”

“Are you okay?” Edmund looked worried.

“I just can't be in here right now.”

The car pulled off the road. As soon as it was going slow enough that I wouldn't kill myself, I opened the door and jumped out.

I walked down the embankment into someone's pasture, surrounded by green grass and tall trees, not caring where I went. My heels sank into the soft, damp earth. Inhaling deeply, I continued to put distance between the car and myself. Rain softly pattered on my head and misted my skin.

“Evie, where are you going?” Edmund caught up to me, slightly out of breath.

I stopped and turned to face him. “I just can't do this. All the drama with Jax, Clarice's death. I'm a freaking duchess now. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? I miss my dad, school is slowly killing me, and everyone's calling me ‘Your Grace.' I just . . . I just don't know if I want any of this.” I walked over to a low stone wall and sat down, mindless of the wetness, burying my face in my shaking hands.

Edmund sat next to me quietly, letting me catch my breath.

“I'm sorry.” I don't know why I was apologizing. Edmund put his arms around me. Dropping my hands, I laid my head on his shoulder and wept.

“
You
have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who's a bloody sorry git.” He stroked my hair, trying to calm me down. “Evie, you'll be a great duchess. You'll figure it out. You're intelligent and kind. You can't go wrong with that combination. You're an excellent student, we can study together, and you'll ace the exams like you always do.”

I looked into his face, my eyes welling with tears.

“Your dad would fly over here in a heartbeat if you needed him. You'll get through this. It feels like a lot right now, but you're going to be incredible. You always are. And you'll get used to the ‘Your Grace' thing. It just takes time.” He leaned down and gently kissed my forehead. “Take all the time you need. I'll wait for you. I promise.”

I closed my eyes, took a deep, cleansing breath, and slowly blew it out.

“I'll always be here for you.
Always
.”

I curled back into his arms. One day at a time, that's how I had to do this. Right now, I just wanted him to hold me.

I switched my phone to the other ear, took off my diamond stud earring, and placed it on the desk with its mate. Edmund and I'd just got back from Brighton. The clock glowed a red four-thirty in the morning.

Down my back, I slid the zipper of my black dress. Today had done me in.

Dad answered on the first ring. A clear indicator of how concerned he'd been. We didn't talk much about the funeral. After I assured him I was fine and didn't need him to fly over, the conversation took an unexpected turn.

“I saw the pictures of Edmund and some girl. They seemed pretty friendly. What's that about?”

Kicking my dress in the direction of my hamper, I said with a tired sigh, “I guess she tried to kiss him or something.” I slid into my pajama pants and pulled the phone away from my ear while I changed into a worn, baggy, black T-shirt. “At the moment, we've decided to be just friends.”

“Just friends?” He sounded surprised.

I slumped onto my bed. “Yeah, I need time to get my life sorted out.”

Dad huffed. “If he hurts you, I'm going to hurt him.”

“I'll warn him.” I chuckled.

“He better treat you right, friend or boyfriend.”

Silence blanketed us. I didn't know what to say.

“I want you to take it easy.” His office chair creaked. He must've leaned back.

“That's not really an option.” I groaned as I sat on the side of my bed. “How've you been?”

“Aside from worrying about you? I'm good.” He cleared his throat. “Um, I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Do you remember Mrs. Therazauld?”

I laughed. “Of course I do. She only lives across the hall and babysat me every day after school while you worked.”

“Right, well, I ran into her recently and we decided to grab some dinner. She's quite an interesting woman. I never realized. It's been nice to have her company. I guess you could say we're seeing each other. You don't mind, do you?”

Sliding between my sheets, I turned my desk lamp off. “No, it's time you started dating again. I was worried you were becoming a recluse.”

He sniffed. “You know me too well. It'll be good to have you home. Well, until the fall at least.”

About that.
“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

I hesitated. “Do I have to come back to Oxford next fall?”

“What?” His voice rose in surprise. “Why wouldn't you want to go back?”

I sighed. “It's just my life here is so out of control and chaotic. Plus, I miss you, and home, and Abby, and . . . just everything.”

“Sweetie, the choice is up to you, it always has been. I'm not going to tell you where to go to college. If you want to come home, fabulous. I'd love to have you closer. But I think you'd find there's a lot at Oxford you'd miss just as much. Don't make any decisions because of what you're feeling right now. Think it over.”

What if I'd already made up my mind?

“Please tell me you're not spending the weekend in London.” Caroline came and sat next to me at our lunch table, her short yellow dress reminding me of a ray of sunshine.

“Why? Do you have plans?” I asked groggily. It'd been a week since Clarice's funeral and I hadn't been sleeping well. My brain wouldn't shut off. I couldn't stop pondering leaving Oxford for good, being just friends with Edmund, and kicking Jax's interfering ass.

“Darling, I always have plans.” Caroline grinned wickedly.

“She's still dealing with Clarice's estate, aren't you?” Suzy sat, opened her bottle of water, and took a sip.

“According to the lawyers, things are mostly finished. So, I'll be sticking around here and trying to catch up.”

“Are you planning to run it like your grandmother did?” asked Preston, who'd been sitting silently at my side.

I shook my head. “She didn't run it, not really. My grandfather had it all set up, with a business manager, estate managers, the works. Right now, I'm going to let them keep doing what they do. Then I'll slowly figure out what to do with it all.”