“Surely you didn’t really think that the Duke of Grovesmoor lived in a crumbling pile of stones.” Eleanor made herself smile. “Given that he owns the better part of England.”
“It’s quite intriguing that you’ve decided you need to keep secrets from me now that you work in such a posh old house, isn’t it?”
There was no denying the fact that there was more than little attitude in her sister’s voice. But Eleanor ordered herself to remain calm, and not only because she never called her miracle of a sister out on anything, much less tone. But because she couldn’t trust the things that were happening inside of her.
The truth was that she hadn’t felt much like herself since Hugo had kissed her that first time. Maybe Vivi was right and Eleanor had gone squirrely and secretive. She’d never done anything like that before.
And when, exactly, were you permitted to have any kind of a life before? that voice inside demanded. Or have you forgotten that your whole existence is catering to Vivi’s life, not yours? She just doesn’t like imagining that anything might have shifted.
It was possible that Eleanor didn’t really like it all that much, either.
“If I failed to tell you something it wasn’t for any nefarious reason,” she said, still keeping her voice even. “I thought you knew everything there was to know about this position. You’re the one who recommended I interview for it in the first place.”
Vivi shook her hair back from her face, though none had fallen forward. “I assumed he’d thrown the kid in some second-rate cottage somewhere rustic. Not this.”
Eleanor did not rise to the defense of the kid. She did not dig into Vivi’s assumptions about rustic cottages. And she did not ask herself why it was apparently perfectly all right for her to live somewhere not quite as nice as Groves House. Because Vivi didn’t mean it. Vivi came across as thoughtless, but only because every thought that moved through her head came out of her mouth, not because she harbored any ill will. It was part of the larger-than-life charm that Eleanor had been grateful for every single moment since Vivi hadn’t died in the car accident that had claimed their parents.
She reached out a hand to place it on her sister’s arm and build a bridge, but Vivi pulled away.
“Vivi, whatever is the matter?” she asked.
And she wasn’t surprised when her sister’s expressive eyes filled with emotion. Not quite tears, but their glassy precursor. This felt like normal, suddenly. Like common ground again. Vivi had problems and Eleanor fixed them. That was the way the world turned.
“Everything.” Vivi’s voice was ever so slightly husky, as if from the force of her feelings. “The rent wasn’t paid. The credit card is full. The flat is a complete tip. I can’t find anything and what I can find is filthy and I don’t know what to do about any of it.”
“You didn’t pay the rent? And you went over the maximum on the credit card?” Eleanor shook her head, feeling dazed. “But I left you the money—”
“And that’s not the worst of it. Peter’s asked Sabrina to marry him.” Vivi stared at Eleanor as if she should have an explosive response to that bit of news. Eleanor only blinked and Vivi made a frustrated, impatient sort of noise. “Lord Peter, Eleanor. Hello. Only the man who’s been crucial to my happiness for as long as I can remember.”
“As long as you can remember,” Eleanor repeated dryly.
Vivi waved a hand. “This past month, anyway. We’ve been quite close.”
“And by this past month,” Eleanor said, trying her best not to panic at what Vivi must have done to their finances in so short a time, “do you mean the month that I’ve been here, in this house that you might have noticed is miles and miles away from anything, teaching lessons to a seven-year-old child?”
“The point is that everyone thought that I was in with a chance,” Vivi complained. “But he chose Sabrina, of all people. The cow. She’s no better than she has to be and who cares if her father has all that money? But everything’s gone pear-shaped.” Vivi held Eleanor’s gaze for a moment, then shifted to look around the foyer again, almost as if she was calculating something as she did. “It was time to make myself scarce, that’s all. I thought I’d hole up with you for a little while.”
“Vivi,” Eleanor said softly. “What did you do?”
Her sister shrugged, though it was more of a defensive gesture than anything else. “Some people need to learn how to have a bit of a laugh, that’s all.”
Eleanor suddenly became very aware of where they were standing. The foyer appeared empty, but Eleanor had been in Groves House too long now. She knew that the Duke’s staff were everywhere. That every word was being watched, recorded, judged. That whatever Vivi might have done, the whole house didn’t need to know about it.
Though it was entirely possible that all of England would, if she’d got up to her usual tricks. And found her way into the tabloids again. Of course, Vivi would likely view that sort of exposure as a great success.
“Come on,” Eleanor said, reaching out once more and this time, actually taking hold of her sister’s arm. “This is not the place to talk about this. We’ll go somewhere a bit more private.”
Vivi certainly didn’t evidence any sense of urgency as she sauntered along, letting Eleanor keep hold of her as they walked. Eleanor didn’t know why it made her teeth clench, hard. This was nothing new. This was who Vivi was. She never thought things through. The rent, the credit card, whatever idiotic thing she’d done to Lord Whoever and his new fiancée. She expected the whole world to revolve all around her, and because of that, it usually did.
Or Eleanor’s did, anyway. It always had.
But Groves House wasn’t the place for Vivi, something deep and dark in Eleanor’s gut insisted. She couldn’t let her sister take—
Eleanor was ashamed of herself. There was nothing here that was hers. There was nothing anyone could take from her, especially not the sister she loved. The sister she would give anything to if she had the chance. The sister who had somehow survived that accident, and kept Eleanor for being all on her own.
That was what she was telling herself, fiercely and on repeat, when she turned the corner that led toward the nursery wing where her rooms were and nearly ran straight into Hugo.
And she knew who she was then, in an instant. She knew too much about the feelings she’d been telling herself were uncertain for so long now. Particularly after what happened in his library a week ago. Oh, the lies she’d told herself to explain it all away...
But there was nothing but truth here, pouring into the hallway like the diffident light of the afternoon outside.
Eleanor did not want Vivi to meet Hugo.
There was something inside of her, hunched and ugly, all claws and spite. And it was dragging all of its sharp edges around and around in the pit of Eleanor’s stomach, because it wanted to avoid this. It would have done anything to avoid exactly this.
She did not want Hugo to behold her vibrant, charming sister who wrapped men like him around her fingers.
Or tries, anyway, that ugly little voice hissed.
