‘These walls are beginning to make my skin shrivel.’
Philip’s eyes shoot up, spearing her from across the room. ‘In that case, maybe it’s time you found yourself somewhere else to live. Perhaps you and Clara could bunk up together, Mother. You get on so very well and she’ll be looking for someone else to feed off now that I’ve told her it’s over.’
What? It’s over. Him and Clara. Really?
The first ripple of hope, of excitement runs through me as his mother pales on a sharp intake of breath. I wait for her to retaliate, to hit back as soon as she’s over her shock, but instead she gives a meek ‘Yes...well...perhaps I should.’
‘Excellent!’ His eyes go back to the papers as he lifts them up. ‘Don’t take too long about it.’
She says nothing, her disbelieving gaze frozen on her son, and when she realises he’s finished with her she flicks me a look.
‘I think you can go,’ I can’t help saying.
I want to laugh, but that would probably take things too far. Instead, I take great delight in her heightened colour and wobbly exit.
As the door closes I look back to Philip. What the hell have I missed? I’ve seen her treat him in all manner of ways—trample, push, goad, belittle, the works—it’s partly why he’s like he is, and it’s why I can’t hate him for what he did. But never have I seen him stand up to her.
And as for him and Clara...?
I find my anger towards him floundering, a surprising swell of admiration building. How long have I itched for him to fight back? And not at me, but at the real purveyors of his misery.
‘What?’ he says.
I realise I’m staring, lips parted, eyes wide. ‘Can we get her back in here and do that again?’
He takes a shaky breath and tosses the papers down, reaching for the almost empty whisky decanter on his desk and pouring a double measure. ‘Look, Coco, I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m tired, fed up and trying to get my head screwed on straight, so if you want to lay into me please just get it over with. I deserve it—and more.’
I study him closely. He looks like he’s barely slept, worry lines mar his perfect features, and the glassy state of his eyes suggests he’s had several drinks already.
‘What’s going on?’
‘What isn’t going on?’ he mutters, taking a swig and turning in his chair to look at me. ‘Clara told me what a fool I’d been not to see what was going on under my nose with you and Ash, told me it just proved what a mug I was. This was after she’d informed me that Granny’s deterioration was a blessing in disguise as it meant her and Mother could resume their party preparations without the worry that she would still be here.’
His voice cracks and he breaks off, his eyes falling to his glass as he clenches his jaw. His pain is so obvious and I know it has nothing to do Clara and everything to do with Granny’s health.
‘As for Mother...’ He shakes his head as he says her name, his mouth twisting derisively. ‘She’s spent the last hour listing every one of my useless qualities to ensure I take full responsibility for her crappy existence too, as well as informing me of my failings as a husband and a future Duke, that letting Clara go is an epic misjudgement, that my darling wife makes the perfect Duchess.’
He laughs now. ‘And, oh, how I know Clara agrees. She only married me for my title, you know. It’s so obvious now. My title and my money.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He looks at me. ‘No, you’re not.’
‘I am.’
It’s the truth. I know he won’t understand it, but I am. I lived his childhood with him. I was aware of the pedestal on which I sat while he took all the shit that was thrown at him by our father as well as his mother.
He shakes his head. ‘You shouldn’t be.’
‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m still livid at what you did—what you tried to do. I still can’t get my head around it.’
He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. ‘You and me both.’
‘Are you saying you’ve had some wonderful epiphany—that you can miraculously see the horror of it all?’
His eyes stay shut and he shakes his head again. ‘I wish I could go back and undo it—the whole damn lot. Go back to before Clara...before...’
He swallows hard, his skin deathly white. He looks like he’s going to be sick, and even though I don’t want it to I can feel my anger ebbing away.