Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
THE BEDROOM
I was pacing.
Ian had gone to do something, telling me he’d be “right back.”
He was not “right back.”
I was in his bedroom.
Alone.
I was okay with that. This was a much more populated wing, and as far as I knew, everyone in the house was awake. Anyway, on the way there (by the way, I didn’t walk there—get this, Ian carried me) I did not fail to note that it seemed like every light in Duncroft had been switched on.
Ian finally stalked in, carrying one of those ice packs with a screw top. It was blue.
“You’re out of bed,” he growled, sounding ferociously pissed.
Yes, he carried me right to his bed. Then he tucked me in and everything.
But, obviously, I got out.
“I couldn’t sit still,” I replied.
That made him look more pissed.
But he approached me, and for once, I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
Yes, he was that pissed.
“It’s probably too late to do anything about the swelling, but we’re going to try,” he announced.
Even with his mood, when he used the side of his fist under my chin to move my head so he could look at my temple, his touch was remarkably gentle.
“Not bad, not great,” he said to my wound, then again gently, he placed the ice on it. “Hold that there as long as you can.”
I lifted my hand to take the bag. “What’s happening?”
“I’m sorry, darling. I had to stop and try to talk Dad out of pressing charges. Then I wondered why I’d try to stop that, Bonnie got me your ice, and here we are.”
“Pressing charges for what?”
He stared at me like I’d gone temporarily insane.
“It’s unhinged what she did, and I’d like to understand why she did it,” I went on. “But I’m uncertain the police need to be involved. Though, maybe a psychologist.”
“She’s an ex of Daniel’s.”
My mouth dropped open, and I left it hanging that way.
“Yes,” he grunted. “Daniel ended it, but apparently she had some pictures of him. I believe the kids refer to them these days as dick pics?”
I kept the ice where it was but still looked to the ceiling and prayed for Daniel’s salvation, and maybe for someone to give him some brains in his head, not solely housing them in some other organ.
I did this by using the words, “Oh my God.”
“Mm-hmm,” Ian agreed. “She lives in the village. Not a lot of opportunity there. She demanded he get her a position here. Blackmail. He leaned on Stevenson when Maggie got pregnant and quit to get married and move to Newcastle. This still left why she targeted you a mystery, until Dad started threatening the police. She then confessed the get-up was supposed to be used on Portia, but Portia was never alone at night. She heard talk of what happened to you last night and decided it was the perfect atmosphere to make her play. Since you’re Portia’s sister, she figured, if she scared the absolute fuck out of you, this would cause you to leave, and Portia would leave in camaraderie. I’ve no idea why she’d want to send Portia away. Possibly jealousy, possibly sour grapes. It doesn’t matter. In the end, it was you who got the Dorothy Clifton treatment.”
There was nothing else I could do but let out a massive sigh.
Therefore, that was what I did.
“Are things settling down?” I asked after I did it.
“No. Dad is beside himself. I’ve never seen him so angry. Stevenson blames himself. Danny feels like shit, and I want to say he deserves it. That was fucked up, what he did. We all know we don’t meddle with staffing. It takes a great deal to run this house and none of us have the skills. But Stevenson was up against the wall, the earl’s son asking him a favor and to keep it confidential. Even with all that, Daniel could never know she’d do something so radically bizarre.”
“This is true,” I muttered.
“Portia is pissed at Danny, as she would be. Brittany’s been doing her hair.”
Now I was pissed.
That woman was doing my sister’s hair?
“This is a disaster,” I snapped.
“Agreed. Mum tore a few strips off Brittany. We exclusively get our meat at the local butcher in the village. Our groceries from the small market there. Mum’s flower arrangements from the florist when our garden is out of season or when she’s throwing a party. Stevenson even orders our liquor through the off-license. It isn’t like it used to be, where that village was almost entirely dependent on us in one way or another, but it’s not ancient history that Duncroft puts more than a small amount of coin in their pockets. And the village wouldn’t even be there if it wasn’t for Duncroft. We not only endowed the school and library, we built both. And that ambulance service that could get here so quickly for Lou?”
“Yes?” I prompted.
“It’s helped to stay afloat from a very generous yearly donation from Duncroft. There’s not enough population for the NHS to operate that service in this area. But there are a lot of farmers and herders here. Some of them are even farther away and much more remote than we are, which makes the hospital dangerously far if something happened without at least paramedics to wade in. It was needed. Duncroft made it happen. Most of our staff is from the village. We have groundskeepers who work here and live there, and they earn a very good wage. In other words, people like us, and they might not depend on us, but this house is important to them. And it’s Duncroft. They have pride in it, even if it isn’t theirs.”
“You’re telling me this because?”
“I’m telling you this because Lady Jane Alcott is pissed as shit at Brittany, who’s from the village, and the girl I saw downstairs is scared out of her mind she’s going to be a pariah. And she’s right to be. Mum could make it impossible to live there if she had a mind to do it. And she’s of that mind right now.”
This made even less sense than the rest of it.
“Then why did she do it?”
“Because she didn’t think she’d get caught,” Ian told me. “She also thought we’d think you were crazy when you said you saw Dorothy. It isn’t like we’re immune to the ghost stories. But I’ve lived in this house for thirty-eight years, maybe not daily, but I’m no stranger. And I’ve never seen a single ghost or even had the minutest experience.”
At least that made me feel better. The house wasn’t actually haunted.
“You can’t arrest someone for scaring someone,” I pointed out.
“You can for blackmail.”
Whoa.
“Is Daniel okay with people knowing he was blackmailed? And how that could happen?”
With his hands at my waist, Ian started herding me to the bed, saying, “Dad’s not going to press charges. But he’s also not an idiot. She was being stubborn. The threat of police and Mum getting involved loosened her mouth.”
He pushed me carefully to sitting on the bed.
I looked up at him. “Do you think that was where Daniel was going that early morning? To tryst with her or talk to her or, I don’t know, maybe she made some other threat or demand, and he needed to bargain with her?”
Ian suddenly looked reticent.
Uh-oh.
“Ian?”
He crouched in front of me. “When Daniel admitted to getting her hired and why, I had that same thought. So I took him aside and asked him. He said he wasn’t outside that morning. He seemed sincerely confused by the question.” When I was sure my expression shared how much I didn’t like that, he quickly added, “It’s likely he’s lying. He can be a good liar when he needs to be, and he’s in hot water right now. He’s not about to make it worse by confessing to…whatever he might have to confess to.”
“So at least now we know why you thought Britany was off.”
“At least now we know that.”
After he said those words, unexpectedly, he cupped my jaw.
And then he rocked my world.
“Come home with me.”
“Wh-what?”
“We’ve both arranged to take the week. I’m working, but not full steam like normal. We can go back to London.” He smiled rakishly. “I have a big flat. I can’t say you’ll see much but the bedroom, but we can take the time we have left to get to know each other better and see where it goes from there.”
It was an amazing offer. And I was tempted.
That said.
“It wasn’t twenty-four hours ago you talked me into staying here.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“Why?”
He sounded incredulous when he repeated, “Why?”
“Do you think Portia and possibly Daniel don’t have anything planned anymore?”
“No, I think I raced through my own damned house in the middle of the bloody night to get to you, only to find you in bed with blood all over your face, looking like you’d stared evil right in the eye. And all this shit is just shit, but it keeps happening. To you.”
“Tonight wasn’t fun—”
He interrupted me to mostly repeat after me again, and continued to do it incredulously, except a lot more incredulously, “It wasn’t fun?”
“But it’s been explained.”
He stood, and scowling down at me, asked, “Are you out of your mind?”
“I’m tired. And my head hurts a little. And I fell on my hip, and that doesn’t feel great either. Maybe we can talk in the morning?”
“It is morning.”
I looked to his tablet.
It was nearly five.
A chill slid over my skin because I wondered when all this started. It had to have been a couple hours ago.
At around three.
“Daphne,” he clipped.
I looked up at him. “Okay, then later. Can we talk about it later?”
He appeared frustrated, then he stalked to his bathroom, came back with a glass of water and a clenched fist.
“Hand,” he ordered.
I held out my hand.
He dropped some pills into it. “Ibuprofen.”
“Perfect,” I whispered.
I took the pills while he walked around turning off lights.
He came to me, divested me of the glass, then I scooted into his bed while he kicked off his slippers, pulled off the long sleeve T-shirt he’d donned somewhere along the way and entered the bed with me.
He turned out the lamp on the nightstand and turned me into his arms.
I guessed he was giving in, and we were going to talk about it later.
I settled against him.
“If we stay, you’re moving in here,” he declared into the dark.
“You’re fresh,” I teased.
“I’m not joking. This isn’t sexy teasing texting. I’m being very serious.”
He sounded very serious.
“How about I move to the Magnolia Suite? We can leave the adjoining door open.”
“No.”
I lifted up. “Ian!”
He pulled me back down. “No. We’ll talk more later, but that’s the caveat. If we stay, you’re with me.”
“This is the zaniest courtship on record,” I griped.
“I’m not courting you. I’m trying to keep your mind in one piece so you can pay attention when I fuck you. You’ll want that too, just to say.”
“Arrogant.”
“Maybe, also true.”
“I’m not talking to you anymore.”
“Good. Then sleep.”
I humphed.
Ian held me closer.
I was still holding the ice to my head, which was a good excuse not to hold him back.
I thought I’d stay awake, but I woke up from a snooze when the ice bag skidded into my face.
Ian took it and tossed it to the floor.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmured drowsily.
It was only then I slipped my arm around him.
And I went back to sleep.