everyone determined to put a better face on the day.
Eloise joined them. She said that Brooke would ride along with Geoffrey back to London. “And how about we all go out to the lake later?” Everyone agreed that the weather was beautiful and a day at the lake would be lovely. “We’ll have a picnic.”
“I’ll get a few more candid shots,” said Rory.
Adrienne nodded. “It’s an excellent idea.”
Brooke and Geoffrey appeared a few minutes later. Brooke was fully dressed, her makeup perfect, her manner subdued. Geoffrey’s hair was wet and slicked down. He wore his school uniform.
Eloise said, “Come along, you two. Eat before you go.”
So they filled plates from the buffet and joined the group. It wasn’t too bad. They all did their best to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It worked, more or less.
Brooke ate hardly anything. When she slipped her napkin in beside her plate, she turned a somber face to Genny. “Genevra, I wonder if I might have a word with you.”
Rafe started to say something, but Genny beat him to it. “Of course.” She pushed her chair back and followed Rafe’s sister out to the terrace garden.
They found a bench by one of the fountains. Brooke sat on one end, Genny on the other, with plenty of space between them.
There was a long, bleak silence.
Finally, Brooke said, “I’m sorry, all right? I’m a hopeless bitch. Everyone knows it. I’ve embarrassed myself and my family in front of Princess Adrienne and your father. I don’t know what gets into me.”
Genny tried to decide how to respond. Best to patch things up.
But anger, like a burning pulse, beat beneath her skin—for Geoffrey, for all that the woman at the other end of the bench insisted on putting him through. She tried to remind herself that Geoffrey was doing fine overall, that Brooke did love her son, she just didn’t really know how to love. Brooke inevitably managed to make everything that happened all about her.
Genny understood that Brooke felt left out of her own family. Edward had been the old earl’s favorite. Their mother had adored Rafe. Brooke had never been anyone’s special darling.
And then Genny had come along. From the age of five, Genny had been the princess of Hartmore. The earl had pampered her. Brooke’s mother had lavished affection on her and Eloise had welcomed her with open arms. Brooke remained nobody’s favorite—only from then on, she had Genny to blame.
Plus, there was the Geoffrey situation. Genny would have been wiser not to pay so much attention to him, not to love him so completely. But how could she help it? He was sweet and smart and funny. Genny’s heart had been his from the first time she saw him, the summer he was three, when Brooke had divorced her American husband and brought Geoffrey home to Hartmore.
“Nothing to say to me?” Brooke muttered, growing surly again.
Genny turned and faced the other woman squarely. “I accept your apology.”
Brooke stared back at her, defiant. She made a scoffing sound. “As if I believe you.”
Genny had a very powerful urge to scream. “What do you want from me, Brooke?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Everything you took from me?”
A sudden wave of nausea rolled through her. The baby didn’t like all this tension. She stood. “I know you resent me. I even understand why. But in reality, I didn’t take your place, and we both know it. That you feel somehow...left out, well, Brooke, that’s your feeling. You would be dealing with the same emotional issues whether I was here or not.”
Brooke sighed. For once, it wasn’t a dramatic sigh. She let her shoulders slump. “I promised Granny I would make things up with you. And I promised Geoffrey, too. Somehow, we have to learn to get on together.”
Genny put her hand against her belly and took a slow breath. “Fair enough. Let’s call a truce. Put some real effort into getting along with me. I’ll do the same. We’ll muddle through somehow.”
Brooke regarded her, narrow eyed, her head tipped to the side, her dark hair tumbling along her arm like a waterfall of silk. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
Genny longed to deny it. She didn’t want to give Brooke the satisfaction of knowing for certain why Rafe had married her. But please. Brooke would know soon enough anyway. “Yes, I am.”
“Suddenly it all makes sense.”
Genny refused to rise to that bait. “Rafe and I are thrilled. So is Eloise.”
Brooke produced a slow, mean smile. “Allow me to congratulate you.”
“Thank you.”
“Granny’s asked me to go away, did you know? For a week. I’ll stay with Fiona.” Brooke’s lifelong friend had a house in Chelsea. “It’s partly a reprimand for my behavior this morning. But it’s mostly for you, of course. To give you time settle in as countess of Hartmore without having to deal with me.”
“Do you want me to tell Eloise to let you stay, is that it?”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t dream of that.” Brooke stared up at her, defiant.
“Brooke, I’m not going to beg you to stay.” And who was she kidding? It would be a relief to have the woman gone.
“It’s fine.” Brooke gave a lazy shrug. “Time away from here with someone who loves me is just what I need about now.”
Genny wanted to grab her and shake her. “Why does it have to be my fault that you feel unloved at Hartmore?”
“Did I say I felt unloved?”
“You didn’t have to.”
Brooke made a humphing sound. “Well, you can take what I said however you want to.”
Genny asked with excruciating civility, “Was there anything else you needed to discuss with me?”
“Not a thing.”
“Then, let’s go back in.”
Brooke swept to her feet and they turned together for the house.
* * *
The remainder of the day passed uneventfully. Brooke and Geoffrey left for London.
In the afternoon, the rest of them walked down to the lake, where they threw sticks for the dogs to fetch. Rory took more pictures and they shared a picnic. And that night, they all enjoyed a lovely dinner in honor of the bride and groom and the visiting Bravo-Calabrettis.
After the meal, Genny’s father and Rafe disappeared into Rafe’s study. Eloise pleaded exhaustion and went to bed. Genny, her sister and her mother went out to sit at an iron table under the stars in the terrace garden. It was good to have a little time together, just the three of them.
At
