Scarlet Wilson – A Bride for the Runaway Groom (страница 4)
A flicker of something passed over Violet’s face. Not annoyance. Not frustration. Just...something.
‘I’ll make your wedding jewellery for you, too,’ she added quickly.
Violet let out a laugh. ‘I’ll need to find a groom first. In fact, we both do. Our baby sister’s gone and beat us to it.’
Rose leaned backwards on the bed, propping herself up with her elbows. ‘I know.’ She lifted one hand up. ‘And she’s done it in such style. Do we really need to call her Lady Holgate now, or Countess? Because I can tell you right now—’ she shook her head ‘—it’s never,
The two of them laughed out loud and collapsed back onto the bed. ‘Daisy Waisy it stays.’
Rose turned her head to look at her sister, leaning over and picking up a strand of her blonde hair. ‘You know, Vi, we almost look like twins,’ she said sarcastically. ‘We’ll have to do something about these hairdos.’
Violet sighed. ‘I know. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you the other day. Maybe I’ll go back to curls.’
‘Don’t you dare. That frizzy perm was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.’
Violet laughed and shook her head. ‘Oh, no, the worst thing
Rose’s shoulders started shaking with laughter and she shuddered. ‘Oh, yuck, don’t remind me. I still feel sick at the thought of that. He was all tongue. The guy had no idea what he was doing.’
She turned on her side and rested her head on her hand. ‘Is there anyone you’ve been kissing lately?’
Violet sighed again. ‘You’re joking. There are absolutely no decent men around.’
‘What about Will—your runaway groom?’ She was prying and she knew it. But she couldn’t help but ask the question out loud. Violet had been talking about Will for months. Maybe Rose just hadn’t been paying enough attention.
But Violet’s eyes widened. ‘Are you joking—Will?’ She let out a snort. ‘No way. I mean, I love him to bits—just not like that. Never like that. I trust Will. Completely. I’ve been in his company lots of times, sometimes even raging drunk. He’s a gentleman through and through. He’s the kind of guy that sees you home, puts you to bed and stays with you until morning.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘In fact, I’ve done the same for him. We’re good company for each other.’ She smiled. ‘And every time he gets engaged, I get to buy a new wedding outfit with matching shoes and bag. What more could a girl want? Even if they never get an airing.’
Rose rolled her eyes. She knew better than most that Violet couldn’t care less about wedding outfits, shoes and handbags. She was much more down-to-earth than most celebrities. They all were. ‘Yeah, right.’
But Violet had drifted off. Her eyes were fixed on the ornately decorated ceiling, carved with cherubs. ‘There’s just no spark between us, Posey. None. Not even a little zing, a little tingle.’ She turned her head to face her sister on the bed. ‘You know what I mean?’
Oh, boy, did she. She’d felt that little tingle shoot up her arm like an electric shock. She blinked. Her sister was looking at her with her identical big blue eyes. They were unyielding. Their bond was strong. She’d always been able to see inside Rose’s head—even when Rose didn’t want her to.
Rose shifted uncomfortably on the bed. But Violet blinked. For once, she was lost in her own little world. ‘I mean, there’s got to be someone out there.’ She regained her focus. ‘For both of us,’ she added quickly.
Rose smiled. It was the first time she’d ever seen her sister actually contemplate a future partner. Maybe the fact their younger sister, Daisy, had beat them both up the aisle and was going to be a mother had made their biological clocks start to tick. It was an interesting concept. And one she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to explore.
Coming back to England had been hard enough. Visiting in the last three years had been painful. Everything seemed to be a reminder of that dreadful night a few years ago. The one that was imprinted on her brain like a painful branding.
But sisters were sisters. She couldn’t really stay away too long. She still spoke to, Skyped or emailed her sisters every day. Not even an ocean—or a tragic death—could come between them.
But now her father’s tour was coming back to Britain. It was big news for the band. A relaunch after a few quiet years—with only an annual charity concert—followed by a brand-new album. And she had to be here, in England, to deal with the last few PR issues. Her quietly building wedding jewellery business would have to be pushed to the side for a few months. She needed time to focus on the final details of the tour.
The last thing she needed was any distractions. And that was exactly what the Runaway Groom was—a distraction. Even if he did make her arm tingle.
Rose rolled off the bed. She hated that little feeling at the pit of her stomach. The one that had given a little flutter when her sister had assured her there was nothing between her and Will.
THE FROZEN PEAS were a godsend. It appeared that Hawksley Castle did have some—even though Rose had doubted. The lump on his head wasn’t quite so big and, as long as he kept them pressed to his head, the bleeding stopped.
He’d managed to struggle into the T-shirt and jeans that Rose had brought from his bag in Violet’s room. But instead of leaving him alone to get dressed, she’d leaned against the wall with her arms folded.
‘What, no privacy?’
‘From the guy who was in my bed? You lost the privacy privilege a while ago, mister. Anyway, hurry up. I’ve got things to do today.’
‘Really? I would have thought after your sister’s wedding you might want to chill out a bit.’
She crossed the room as he slid his feet into his training shoes. ‘I’d like to have time to chill out, but I don’t. I’ve got the final touches to make to my dad’s tour, then I need to finish some jewellery for another bride.’
He looked up. ‘Ready. Do you know where the nearest hospital is?’
She nodded. ‘I know this area well. Let’s go.’
They walked down the corridor and out of the front doors of Hawksley Castle. She opened the door of a pale blue Rolls-Royce and nodded at him to get in the other side.
Will couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he slid into the cream leather seat. ‘Didn’t take you for this kind of car,’ he said in amusement.
She started the engine and frowned at him. ‘What kind of car did you think I’d drive?’
‘Something sporty. Something small. Probably something red.’ He looked thoughtful for a second. ‘Probably one of those new-style Minis.’ He wasn’t revealing that his identical Rolls-Royce was parked a few cars down in the car park.
She pulled out of the car park and down the sweeping mile-long driveway. ‘This is my dad’s. You forget, I’ve been in New York for the last three years. There isn’t much point in me having a car here right now, so I just borrow one when I’m home.’
‘And he lets you?’ Rick Cross’s car collection was legendary. ‘How many does he actually have?’
She laughed. And it was the first genuine laugh he’d heard from her. It was beautiful. Light and frivolous. Two things that Rose didn’t really emanate. ‘You mean, how many does Mum think he has—or how many does he
Now Will started laughing. ‘Really? How does he manage that? Where on earth can he hide cars from her?’
She shrugged. ‘He’s a master. We’ve got more than one home. You’ll have seen the garages at Huntingdon Hall. There are eighteen cars there. Four in New York. Three in Mustique. And—’ she glanced over her shoulder as if to check if someone was there ‘—another twelve at an unspecified location in London.’
‘Another twelve? You’ve got to be joking.’
‘I never joke about my father.’ She shrugged. ‘What can I say? It’s his money. He can spend it how he likes. Same with my mother. They have beautiful homes, there might even have been the odd nip and tuck here and there, and to the outside world they seem like a pretty frivolous couple.’
He could hear the edge in her voice. Just as he’d heard the same tone in Violet’s voice on a few occasions. He’d met Rick and Sherry. They seemed like regular, nice folks. Polite, well-mannered, and they obviously loved their daughters.
‘So, what’s the problem?’
Her head whipped around. ‘Who said there was a problem?’
‘You did. Just now.’
‘I did not.’
He sighed. ‘You and Violet are more alike than you think. She does that, too—starts talking about your parents and then starts to say strange things.’
‘She does?’ Her voice was a little squeaky and her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. It was nothing to do with her driving. And nothing to do with the car.
The Rolls-Royce was eating up the country roads with ease. It should be a pleasant enough drive. But Rose looked tense.
‘You must deal with the press all the time. Why does it annoy you when they describe your parents as frivolous?’
‘Because they’re not really. Not at heart. Yes, they spend money. But they also give a lot away. Lots of celebrities do. My mum and dad both support lots of charities.’