2. Eliza

2

ELIZA

W hile the University of Edinburgh had one of the best fine art programs in the UK, it was only one of the reasons I chose to apply there when I was seeking my undergrad degree. It was its distance from London I found most attractive.

My parents could be overbearing. My father, in particular, and I wanted to put as many miles as I could between us, albeit without leaving the UK.

I went on to pursue a master's degree, then accepted a job as an adjunct professor—much to my parents' dismay. As their only child, Nigel and Millicent, as I'd begun referring to them, expected me to be at their constant beck and call. I'd placated them with the assurance I was but a ninety-minute flight away should they truly need me.

Today, I received a message from Niven St. Thomas, my only living relative other than them. His mother was my father's sister, and given he was also an only child, the two of us had been close since we were children.

Something to discuss. Are you available?

Level of urgency? I asked.

Not immediate.

I'd been feeling out of sorts of late, and a trip to London might be the very thing I needed. I was able to get a flight, arriving early evening, and when I landed, I called him.

"You've no idea how good it is to hear your voice," he said.

"I decided to be spontaneous. Meet me at the pub?"

"Would that I could see you tonight, but I'm afraid I have a houseguest."

"Intriguing. A woman, perhaps?"

"Yes, luv."

"You said there was something you needed to discuss."

"Right. I'll do my best to get away tomorrow. Earlier in the day would be better, but I'll see if I can figure out a way to meet you for dinner. Soon, I promise."

"I'll book a room, then. Miss you, Niv."

"Yes, luv, I miss you too."

When in town, I usually stayed with Niven, not that I couldn't afford to stay elsewhere. I didn't earn much as an adjunct, nor did I from my art—sculpture specifically, which could be described as more of a hobby than a career—but I had other funds to fall back on.

My grandparents on my father's side had established an irrevocable trust fund on my behalf that left me flush with cash. More than I could spend in a lifetime. The other thing I'd inherited was a three-bedroom flat in Mayfair. While I could live there, there were two reasons I didn't. First, the aforementioned required distance from my parents. Second, renting it out earned me upwards of ten thousand pounds a month.

The trust was yet another bone of contention with my father, who hadn't received anything from his parents when they passed. He insisted he had no idea why and was particularly irked when I refused to "share the wealth," so to speak.

The decision to do so or not wasn't mine to make. That fell on the shoulders of the trustee, a solicitor who also managed a similar trust on behalf of Niven.

From what I could tell, not that either of my parents shared information regarding their finances with me, they lived a very comfortable life. Their flat was twice the size of mine, and they entertained lavishly, particularly so since my dad had been appointed the UK's foreign secretary.

Feeling like spoiling myself for a night, I booked a suite at Claridge's and, after checking in, grabbed a bite to eat at the Fumoir. I preferred its quiet intimacy over the main bar.

I'd just ordered their signature fried chicken appetizer, another means of spoiling myself, when a man at the bar caught my eye. Given I hadn't caught his, I let my gaze linger. He was magnificent. Tall, a requirement for me since I was five feet ten. My guess was he was at least six inches taller, maybe more. His dark, almost-black, long hair was tied back, but still hung beyond his shoulders. His build was best described as big and powerful. Even from a distance, I could see evidence of defined muscles under his long-sleeve dress shirt and trousers.

When he glanced over his shoulder as though he felt me watching, his gray eyes met mine for a split second before he turned away, signaled the bartender, and left.

Disappointed that he hadn't offered to buy me a drink, I returned to the suite. As anxious as I was to sleep, fantasies of the mystery man kept me awake. I closed my eyes and pictured his hands on my body. A man like him was the fulfillment of my ideal—big, hard, and commanding. Dampness coated the inside of my thighs as I imagined his hardness pounding into me or his tongue licking through my folds.

God, I needed to get laid.

Given my late-night self-satisfying escapades, an early call jarred me awake.

"Good Lord, why are you up so bloody early?" I asked when I saw it was Niven ringing.

He chuckled. "Late night?"

"Not in the way you're thinking." I glanced at the time. "It's half seven. Who are you?"

"Right, well, I wanted to chat with you before Harper woke."

I was intrigued. "Harper? Interesting name."

"A far more interesting person."

"I thought you had a rule about women staying over. Present company excluded, given I'm the closest thing you have to a sister."

"It isn't like that. You'll see when you come around later."

Later being the operative word. "Unlike you have become, I am not a morning person, Niv. I'll ring you back."

I ended the call, knowing if I didn't, I'd soon be wide awake at what felt like the middle of the night. I hugged my pillow, imagining it was the tall, dark, and handsome man I'd seen at the bar, and drifted to sleep.

When I woke again, it was half ten, a far more civilized hour. After showering, I rang Niven.

"Nice nap?" he teased.

"At least I'm partially human now. What did you want to discuss with me?"

"The Alfriston cottage."

It had to have been close to twenty years since I'd visited. "What of it?"

"I'm thinking of purchasing it. That's if your father still owns it."

I had no idea and said so.

"The point is, I'm giving you first right of refusal."

I laughed out loud. "Have at it, cousin. I've no interest whatsoever."

"You're certain?"

"Cross my heart."

"We ran into him, by the way," he grumbled.

I knew who he was referring to, but the other word he'd used intrigued me more. "We?"

"Harper and me. Her manners far exceeded his."

That wouldn't be difficult. Unless he was conversing with someone who could advance his and my mother's social status, my father was typically rude. "So, when do I get to meet her?"

"No time like the present since you're finally awake. Not that she is. She's lovely, by the way. Oh, and the reason I asked about the cottage. She's a theology student, whose fondest desire is to become a vicar. I've arranged for her to meet with Reverend Primrose."

I lowered my mobile from my ear and studied the screen. The conversation we were having was so unlike any Niven and I had ever had that I wondered if it was really him on the other end of the call.

"Last night, you said we'd meet for dinner. What's changed."

He sighed. "Everything."

"I'll be around in an hour."

"Brilliant. I can't wait for you to meet her."

While I had direct access to his flat, I wondered if I should ring Niven to say I was here. On the other hand, he hadn't asked me to. It would be far more entertaining to catch him and his paramour unaware.

"She's here!" I heard Miss Bardwell, my cousin's housekeeper, squeal when the lift door opened. She raced from the kitchen to embrace me. "Not eating again, I see," she said, stepping back and inspecting me from head to toe.

I laughed. "I'm confident you'll see to it I have plenty while I'm here."

"There you are," said Niven, smiling broadly in the same way Miss Bardwell had when she'd greeted me. "Come, I'll introduce you. Where is Harper?" He took my hand and pulled me in the direction of the kitchen when his housekeeper pointed to it.

"Miss Godfrey, may I present Eliza Fox? Eliza, Harper," Niv said when the woman stood. While she wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense, there was something about her—her aura, perhaps—that made her almost angelic.

"It is such a pleasure to meet you," I said, stepping forward. Rather than shake Harper's outstretched hand, I embraced her and kissed her cheeks. "You were right," I said, turning to my cousin. "She is lovely."

She looked between Niv and me. "Wait. Are the two of you related?"

He put his arm around her shoulders. "My apologies. I should've said. Eliza is my cousin. My only cousin, in fact."

"I heard you had the pleasure of meeting my father," I said, rolling my eyes. "My apologies if he said anything offensive. Which, clearly, he is prone to do."

"I'm attempting to beg off dinner with your parents for that very reason. However, now that you're in town, that may prove harder to do," Niven said, leaning down to kiss Harper's cheek and leaving me stunned.

"I've a better idea. Let's plan a dine out. That way, we can rest assured he won't cause a scene." I turned to her. "We will also be sure to put Harper and him on opposite sides of the table."

Niven kissed her temple for a second time and gazed at the woman he'd plastered to his side.

"I love seeing you this way," I said, meaning every word. Not that he appeared to have heard me. Miss Bardwell seemed to notice as well and offered to help me get settled.

"I'll take care of it," Niv said, kissing Harper's temple a third time before leaving the room with Miss Bardwell in tow.

I plucked a piece of bacon off his plate. "So, I hear you've an interest in becoming a vicar."

"Ministry of some sort. Yes. At least, that's how I felt before the wedding."

Wedding? My eyes opened wide.

"Wait. That isn't what I meant. I was supposed to be married, but my ex-fiancé decided he didn't want to go through with it."

I put a hand on my heart.

"What?" asked Niven, rejoining us.

"I thought you'd neglected to tell me you and Harper were wed," I said, looking up at him.

"I was just saying that before the ‘non-wedding,' I'd been reconsidering whether I would go into ministry."

I suddenly felt like an interloper when he looked at her and said, "Are you leaning against it now?"

I could never have predicted the scene before me. It was as though my cousin had morphed into someone I no longer knew.

"I have many decisions to make before that one. My whole life to figure out, really."

I watched him look from her to her plate. "Harper, you haven't eaten!" he exclaimed, sounding like Miss Bardwell. "What about you, Eliza? Fancy some breakfast?"

"I ate on the train." I motioned for him to sit, stunned by his lack of reaction. He knew I'd stayed in town last night, not come in on the train.

It occurred to me that my presence might make Harper uncomfortable. "I hope you don't mind my crashing here," I said to her. "I usually stay with Niven when I'm in town, so I can avoid the inquisition from Nigel and Millicent."

"Millicent is Eliza's mother," Niv explained.

"I am only a guest myself," Harper murmured.

"Very well, but if I'm a nuisance, don't hesitate to say so."

"I will not hesitate for even a moment," said Niv, winking at me.

"He's always been that way. Doesn't care at all about my feelings," I teased before leaning down to kiss his cheek. "If you'll excuse me, I'll freshen up."

I made eye contact with Miss Bardwell and motioned for her to follow.

"I'm stunned speechless," I said once we were out of earshot.

"She's lovely, is she not?" Clearly, she was as taken with Harper as Niven was.

Not that I wasn't. I'd truly never dreamed he'd fall in love or even allow someone to get close enough to care for them. The realization hit me so hard that my eyes filled with tears of happiness for him, but also of sadness for me.

He and I were cut from the same cloth. Niven fed his insecurities with alcohol, meaningless sex, and a surly disposition with everyone but me. My way was to act the part of a free spirit. I was an artist, after all. Eccentric, empty-headed, emotionally unaffected, and amusing. I was none of those things. A fact only Niv knew.

"Bloody hell," I muttered. "I've a change of plans. My father has summoned me to meet him. Since I have to leave anyway, I'll give them their privacy. I'll ring Niv later and let him know I won't be staying, after all."

When Miss Bardwell nodded, I returned to the kitchen only to find Niv and Harper engaged in a passionate kiss.

I cleared my throat, and he broke away and turned to me.

"I'd say I'm sorry for interrupting, but I'm not."

"You're a nuisance," he muttered, making me laugh.

"I've been summoned. Evidently, my father's new position allows him access to the travel records of whomever he pleases. As he's aware I've arrived, I am now expected to join him for lunch. I'd apologize, but I somehow think you don't mind my leaving in the least."

When he didn't respond, Miss Bardwell offered to walk me out.

"If he breaks her heart, inform me immediately," I said, squeezing her hand before I got on the lift.

"Aye, Miss Eliza. I just pray it isn't the other way around."

"Me too."

It wasn't a far walk to the Carlton Club, where my father had demanded I meet him at noon sharp. Fortunately, I was close enough to be able to do so.

"Eliza," he said when I approached his table and he stood.

Rather than a kiss on the cheek or other display of affection, he pulled the chair out and I sat.

"How long did you plan to stay in London without contacting your mother or me?" he asked, his eyes on the menu he had to know by heart.

"I only arrived last night," I muttered.

He mumbled something I didn't understand, then added, "I suppose you've already seen Niven."

"Briefly." I slammed the menu on the table more than set it. "Why was it you summoned me? I've been in London less than twenty-four hours."

"Your mother and I are hosting a dinner this evening. We expect you to attend."

"I have other plans," I lied.

"Cancel them."

I folded my arms and waited until he lowered the menu to look at me, then said, "No."

"Don't be a chit. Your mother and I ask so little of you. You could at least agree when we do."

"You give equally to what you ask, which is next to nothing. As I said, I have other plans, which I'm unwilling to change." I pushed the chair from the table and stood. "Give my regards to Millicent."

I stormed from the dining room, not caring at all that I'd caused a scene. In fact, I was happy I had. The bastard deserved the raised brows of those he considered his peers.