The Rake (Boston Belles 4)

“Your mom can shove it.” Sweven rolled her eyes, checking her scarlet lipstick in the passenger mirror. “I want to see where you grew up.”

“Even if I hate the place?”

“Especially because you do.”

We arrived just before darkness creeped in. The green rolling hills of Kent came into view. I spotted the castle from a distance. It looked darker than I remembered, folding into itself like a shrinking violet.

Like it knew how I’d turned my back on the Whitehall name—and it was not going to forgive me.

“Damn, bro. You make the Fitzpatricks look like the assholes down the street who could afford non-domestic vacations and an in-ground pool,” Belle laughed. “This is rich-rich. Like, Mommy-can-I-have-a-diamond-tiara for breakfast rich.”

“Should I have flaunted my wealth?” I side-eyed her, cocking an eyebrow.

“Are you kidding me?” She threw her arms over my neck, kissing my cheek. Harrods bags collapsed between us, the symbol of love. “I was scared shitless of averagely rich Devon. You know how intimidated I’d have been if I knew you were employing ass-wipers and people whose entire job is to blow cold air on your tea?”

At this point, I lost the thread of the conversation. What was she on about?

I pulled the Range Rover by the front gate, killed the engine, and got out. Sweven rounded the front of the car and joined me.

It was still technically my estate. A few weeks ago, I’d planned to sign it over to my mother. Now, she’d lost that privilege too. Call me petty, but I did not appreciate how she’d sent someone to chase my girlfriend away. So the current deal was that Mum, Cecilia, and Drew were to get the fuck out of there by the end of the month. Where to, I had no idea nor desire to know.

I reached for Belle’s hand when I noticed the trucks. There were three of them parked in a neat row in front of the entrance, trunks open. Young blokes in coveralls yelled at each other in Polish as they flung furniture into them.

“Devon?” My sister’s voice rang from the woods. I turned to see her making her way from the thick curtain of trees, lifting her skirts in one hand. “Is that really you?”

She hurried toward me. My heart caught in my throat. Just for a second, she looked like the Cece I’d grown up with. The one I held by the legs and pretended her mass of blond curls was a broomstick, sweeping the floor with them while she giggled. I blew raspberries on her bare stomach and told her to stop farting. Taught her how to snap her fingers and whistle “Patience” by Guns N’ Roses—and not just the chorus.

“Cecilia. This is my partner, Emmabelle.”

Cecilia stopped dead in her tracks, measuring Belle head to toe. I saw Sweven through her eyes. A stunning, self-made woman dressed like she was ready for her Vogue cover shoot.

“Hi.” Cece smiled, offering Belle her hand tentatively. Belle used it to jerk Cecilia into an embrace, hugging her tightly.

“You’re beautiful,” Cecilia blurted after managing to weasel her way out of Belle’s hug.

“Thanks! And you’re … holding a pogo stick?” Belle poked her lower lip out, her eyes widening a little.

Cecilia laughed, and I realized that she was holding a pogo stick. I lit up instantly. “We used to race in the woods with pogo sticks to make it more difficult,” I explained. “I won every time.”

“Every. Single. Time.” Cecilia groaned, mock-punching my arm. “Even after he went to boarding school and I practiced daily. The minute he’d come back, he would leave me to eat dust. I wanted to do it one last time, before … well …” Cecilia turned to smile at me. There was sadness there, yes, but no anger or malice.

“Already moving?” I asked.

She nodded. “Mum can’t afford to stay here. The bills are just too much. There’s no reason to postpone the inevitable. She is going off to London to stay with a friend.”

“What about you and Drew?”

Cece wiped sweaty locks of gold from her forehead. “Drew found a job! Could you believe it?”

“No,” I said flatly.

Cece laughed. “Yes! He is starting from the ground up. An admin assistant for a private bank in Canary Wharf. Can you imagine him fetching coffee and getting people’s dry cleaning?”

I couldn’t, in fact, but I was glad he managed to make use of himself nonetheless.

“I signed up for uni. I think I’m going to become a vet.” She smiled sheepishly.

“I’ll pay,” I offered. After all, Cece was not a part of Mum and Louisa’s plans for Belle.

“Cheers.” She reached to squeeze my arm. “But a bit of student debt didn’t kill anyone last I checked, and it’s time I do something on my own, don’t you reckon?”

Mum decided to make her grand entrance to this odd scene just then, walking out carrying a box full of knickknacks.