Page 15 of Love and Loathing

“Are you insane?” he said, taking an angry step towards her, and wishing he didn’t have suits bundled over his arm. They took the edge off his furious gesturing. “Domnall’s here! What the hell are you planning, Evie? Do you think for a moment I won’t tell your father?”

Evie gave a small laugh. “What’s he going to do? Throw me out? He’s already done it a dozen times. Cut off my allowance? I asked him to when I was fifteen.”

“Maybe call the police.”

“For ketchup? Please. The only thing my dear daddy cares about more than money is the family name. He’d be the first to cover it up.”

How was it possible that she’d got worse since last time? If he’d ever wasted a second imagining how his next meeting with Evelyn Blackton would go, it would be with her embarrassed, apologetic. Maybe he would magnanimously accept her apology, for Roscoe’s sake. Then take her slim, pale wrist and reassure himself he hadn’t left any bruises… But she stood there cool as day, smiling faintly to herself as though his anger amused her.

“I could kill you,” he breathed with an alarming degree of longing.

“But that would be a slightly worse crime than ketchup,” she pointed out, coming up to him. She gave him a placating pat on his tensely quivering shoulder and took the suit bags from his arm. “I’ll show you to your room. I suspect you’re lost.”

Lost? Doomed.

“Come on, Aubrey,” she said, smiling, when he made no move to follow her. “I promise I’m not going to do anything to Domnall. That phase of the plan is over. I’m here merely as an observer. I’m allowed to watch what the man does, aren’t I? After all, I’m sure he has nothing to hide. That’s all FTP wants me to do.”

“FTP?”

“For The Planet. The campaign group I’m part of.”

“Oh God. There’s more of you.”

She grinned. “A whole army.”

He had no chance to recover from that. They both turned at the sound of voices. George Blackton, Domnall, and Liv walked into the hall.

“I must take you this way,” Evie’s father was saying. “The painted ceiling is one of Conyers’ finest—”

He stopped at the sight of them. His daughter’s presence seemed to cause him much the same sort of choking anger as it did Aubrey, because, for a moment, he was speechless.

It was Liv who broke the silence. “Oh! How lovely, Aubrey. You brought your delightful girlfriend. What a marvellous time we’re all going to have!”

SEVEN

Evie suspected less truewords had seldom been spoken. The “marvellous fun” part was clearly demented. And as for “girlfriend”… She looked at Aubrey’s horrified face and tried not to laugh.

That really hadn’t been part of the plan. There had been a risk, of course, that she might be recognised. But make-up free, dressed differently, in a very different setting, she’d hoped to go unnoticed. Especially as she hadn’t been planning on being seen by Liv or Domnall. With Conyers being so big, she ought to have been able to go about her business unnoticed. Because her real target wasn’t Domnall at all. It was Aubrey’s laptop. And she suspected, hoped, it was in the leather bag over his shoulder.

Did she have qualms about what she was doing? Yes. Had her days and nights been troubled by dreadful recollection? Yes. Had she, watching Aubrey’s car arrive a few minutes earlier from her bedroom window, nearly run into her bathroom to be sick?

Yes.

Even now her palms were clammy. Her heart was beating so fast in her throat she could hardly think. At any other time, she might have taken a bitter enjoyment from the angry surprise on her father’s face. Hehatedbeing on the back foot. But the thought of the telling off she was going to get, the character assassination that never really stopped hurting even when it was the millionth time she’d heard it, and all of it done before Aubrey, him watching in her father’s study, agreeing with every word… She felt swimmy, faint.

“Howell,” her father called, his voice perfectly composed and smooth. His steward, a grave and competent man in his fifties, stepped forward from where he had been waiting at a polite distance behind the group. “Please show Mr White and Miss Villais to their rooms. I’d love a word with my daughter. It’s been so long since we had a catch up.”

And clearly I’m missing some important news,the stabbing look he turned on her said. His smile didn’t show it, though. His smile was perfect.

Howell shepherded the others up the stairs, but Aubrey lingered, watching her and her father.

“Yes. You come, too, Aubrey. I’d like a word with you as well.”

They followed him in silence, the familiar route to his study seeming to take forever, Evie cold, suppressing the shivers that crawled up her spine. She didn’t fear her father. She didn’t. But his anger was still unpleasant.

They entered the book-lined study, the two of them stopping near the leather-topped desk while her father closed the door. He turned to face them. “Well?”

But he only paused for the barest half-second—not time enough for either of them to collect their wits—before addressing Aubrey: “I couldn’t care less that she’s my daughter. She’ll confirm I have no affections on that score. But I would have thought you’d have more sense.”

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