Right Number, Wrong Girl

“What depends on me leaving?”

Hugo turned around and laughed, then hugged the woman with dark hair. “Hey, Helena.”

She returned the hug, peering over his shoulder at me. “She doesn’t look like Mum set you up with her.”

I… probably should have been offended by that, but I wasn’t.

I was more than fine with that.

“Helena,” Hugo said darkly. “This is Camilla. She’s planning Grandma’s party. Camilla, this is my little sister, Helena.”

She shot him a dark look before she stepped forwards and held out her hand for me. “Pleasure to meet you, Camilla.”

I hesitated before accepting her handshake. “You, too, Lady Helena.”

“Just Helena.” She smiled, and it was the same small smile Hugo gave when he knew something I didn’t. “You don’t have a moment, do you? I have a quick question about the party.”

“Oh, of course.”

She turned to Hugo. “Mum’s waiting for you. Grandma is winding her up about the colour scheme.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should have known she wouldn’t co-operate for this long.” He turned and walked into the house.

“What can I help you with?” I asked Helena.

She ran her tongue over her lips. “You aren’t Camilla.”

Shit.

“I’m sorry?” A nervous laugh escaped me.

She tilted her head to the side with an amused smile. “You aren’t Camilla. I met her at Olivia Fortescue’s godawful engagement party.” She paused. “Actually, the party was wonderful. It was the hostess I don’t care for.”

I swallowed, but there was a bubbly tickle in my throat that made me cough.

“So I know you aren’t Camilla.”

“It’s a long story,” I said slowly. “I’m Sophie. Her best friend and flatmate.”

She pressed her lips together, fighting a warm smile. “So, Sophie. What are you doing here?”

I gave her the cliff notes, including the miscommunication. I told her enough that it was somewhere between what Hugo and Henry knew, and I was surprised when she nodded along.

“That sounds about right. I told Mum not to hire her, but she didn’t listen. The problem is that she’s very good at her job,” Helena said quietly, looking at me firmly. “So little mistakes are brushed under the rug.”

“I figured that was the case. It’s just put me in a very awkward position.”

She nodded. “I won’t say anything. It’s not my place. And neither is it to say this, but I’m going to anyway.” She reached forwards and gently touched my upper arm. “Sophie, whatever you’re doing with my brother, make sure our mother doesn’t find out.”

I swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not blind. My brother has a soft spot for you, and judging by the way you looked at him, you feel the same.”

“Soft spot is an exaggeration. I’m not sure if we’ve passed tolerating each other yet, to be honest.”

She dropped her hand with a quiet laugh. “I remember when I felt like that with my husband.”

“Please don’t threaten me like that.”