Unbound (24 page)

“Sarah, this is Grace,” he explains. “She’s …working for me.”

I notice how tense he is and feel a wave of disappointment rising inside me. But what was I expecting? Did I think he would introduce me as his new girlfriend? He made it very clear earlier that a relationship was out of the question for him.

But I still have a lump in my throat as I step inside the room and close the door behind me. Sarah’s eyes, which are so similar to Jonathan’s, are twinkling with amusement as they slide back and forth between Jonathan and me.

“Nice to meet you, Grace,” she says, and then gestures toward her leg in its plaster cast with a shrug. “Though I would have preferred to have met you under more pleasant circumstances.”

She somehow sounds as though she knows who I am, although that’s not possible. Or has Jonathan told her about me? But then Sarah and Alexander smile at each other and I realize that he must have been the source of her knowledge about my introduction into the world of Huntington Ventures.

The two of them are clearly not a couple, but they’re obviously close. I remember the sarcastic comments Jonathan always makes when Alexander mentions Sarah. He obviously assumes that his sister is not at all interested in his partner, but I think he’s wrong about that.

“How could this have happened?” Jonathan asks. He seems to still be bothered by the fact that his sister is in the intensive care unit, injured. He’s noticeably remorseful, too, as if he believes he could have prevented it. “I should have picked you up, as we planned right from the start.”

Sarah places her other hand on his, takes hold of it, and gives him a compelling look. “No one could have known, Jon. Hastings really didn’t stand a chance. The car that cut us off came out of nowhere. He reacted really quickly, otherwise it would probably have been much worse. I hope he’s OK. Dad’s just gone to see how he’s doing.”

Jonathan shakes his head. “Why did you ask Father to pick you up? I could have cancelled my appointments. I would …”

“He offered and I had the feeling it was important to him,” she interrupts. “You know how difficult this time of year always is for him.”

Jonathan, who obviously doesn’t see it like that, snorts scornfully.

“He still misses Mommy, Jon. Even after all these years.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jonathan answers bluntly. “He’s not suffering, Sarah. It’s always other people who suffer.” He gestures toward the cast with his chin. “Why isn’t
he
lying here in pain? He deserves it.” He almost spits out the final words.

“Stop it.” Sarah’s smile has disappeared and her expression has suddenly become serious. “That’s totally unfair. The accident wasn’t his fault, you know full well.”

Jonathan shakes his head again, but he doesn’t pursue it further, which seems to anger Sarah even more.

“Why are you so pig-headed when it comes to him?” she says, reproachfully, withdrawing her hand from Jonathan’s. “I wish you two would …”

At that moment, the door opens and a man enters the room. When he sees all the visitors, he stops abruptly.

He’s an older man, around sixty, tall, and with unbelievably good posture for his age. The hospital gown conceals all his clothing, except for two brown pant legs and his shoes—but his pants are clearly made of an expensive fabric, and his shoe leather is highly polished. He looks very well groomed. He wears his salt-and-pepper hair severely combed back, and he’s clean-shaven. But his face doesn’t match the rest of his appearance. It’s criss-crossed by an unbelievable number of wrinkles, making him look haggard, and his lips—which remind me a little of Jonathan’s—have a pinched look.

“Dad!” Sarah says, but it’s already obvious to me that none other than Arthur Robert Charles Hugo Earl of Lockwood has just entered the room. I knew what he looked like from the Internet—although, like his son, he’s more impressive in real life.

He nods to Jonathan and Alexander and then his gaze rests on me for a long moment and his gray eyes examine me keenly, which makes me very uncomfortable. In a flash, his presence changed the atmosphere in the room. It’s colder now, tenser.

“How’s Hastings?” Sarah wants to know. She must have felt the change too, but she’s clearly decided to ignore it.

“So far so good,” the Earl explains briefly. His voice sounds pleasant but the expression in his eyes remains uneasy, as he focuses his gaze on me. “May I ask who you are?”

He says it so sternly that I automatically swallow and stand up a bit straighter.

“I’m Grace Lawson,” I tell him, only just preventing myself from adding “my Lord.” I get the feeling it wouldn’t have gone down well with Jonathan.

Jonathan is standing up. “She works for me,” he adds.

The Earl obviously doesn’t think it’s necessary to return the courtesy and tell me who he is, and Jonathan doesn’t introduce him to me either. They probably both assume I know who he is. Or they’ve simply forgotten. When I observe Jonathan more closely, I suspect the latter might be the case because his neck muscles are taut and he’s looking at his father as if expecting him to attack at any moment.

“I see.” The Earl examines me once more then turns to his son. “May I speak to you for a moment.”

It’s not a question. He says it in the peremptory tone I’m used to from Jonathan. But Jonathan clearly finds it as unpleasant to be ordered around as I do. He looks back at his father with a cold fire in his blue eyes.

“I came here to visit Sarah. We can talk here, if we have to.”

“As you wish,” his father answers with a growl, clearly angry at the putdown. “Richard was with me yesterday and told me that he met you for dinner. You were in the company of a very drunk young lady, who was clearly very attached to you.”

The Earl looks at me in a way, which makes me forget to breathe.

“So?” Jonathan asks, unmoved.

“I simply could not believe it. And then today at the airport, I spotted your photo on the cover of one of those dreadful tabloid papers—arm in arm with a young woman who fitted Richard’s description. And now you’ve brought that same young woman to your sister’s sick bed.”

I can feel the blood that just rushed into my cheeks drain my head again instantly. What does he mean, a photo? There’s a photo of the two of us?

The Earl looks straight at Jonathan. “Perhaps you would like to explain that to me?”

The two men stare at each other for what seems like an eternity.

Then Jonathan says, “No, I don’t want to explain anything to you.” His expression is grim, his voice dangerously calm. “It’s none of your business.”

“What photo?” Sarah wants to know, but her father and brother are paying no attention to her. They’re totally focused on each other.

“If you’ve got a woman in your life all of a sudden, it’s very much my business. Richard says you were very intimate with Miss Lawson.”

Jonathan turns toward me briefly before looking at his father again. In the brief instant during which our eyes meet, I feel myself turning hot and cold because I don’t know whether the anger in his eyes is directed at me or at his father.

The fact that they are talking about me is completely overwhelming. I want to defend myself, but I can’t think of what to say. My guilty conscience about my behaviour in the restaurant is tormenting me again. Is there really a photo of him and me, which has appeared in some newspaper? If it’s true, then I dread to imagine the consequences.

“I don’t owe either you or Richard an explanation,” Jonathan says.

“Oh yes, you do,” his father contradicts him at once. “You’re my heir, Jonathan, the next Earl of Lockwood. You know what it would mean if you took a wife.”

“Yes, I know, believe me.” Jonathan takes a step closer toward his father. “But I don’t care if the Lockwood line dies out. As far as I’m concerned, let it. You can be its last true representative. That would be very fitting.”

The Earl’s lips have turned white.

“Jonathan!” Alexander warns him. He’s standing right next to Sarah’s bed now, as if he wants to protect her. But Jonathan and his father pay no attention to him—they’re too busy arguing with each other.

“The day will come when you’ll understand that we have responsibilities in this life, responsibilities we have to fulfill, my son,” the Earl says, and his voice sounds tired. “We don’t always have a choice.”

“No, I know we don’t,” Jonathan agrees with him. His face is distorted by anger. “Mother, for instance, didn’t have one.”

The Earl shrinks back at Jonathan’s words. It’s obvious how hurt he is.

His expression visibly shuts down. “I should have known there’s no talking to you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have brought up the subject,” Jonathan barks. “I’ll be the one to decide which responsibilities I intend to fulfill—Father.” He pronounces the word with utter scorn once more.

“And what is Miss Lawson doing here then?” the Earl asks, pointing to me. “Why have you brought this young woman with you, if she doesn’t mean anything to you? I can’t help drawing my own conclusions, if you …”

“Stop it!” Sarah shouts. “Can’t you be together without fighting for once?” She’s paler than before and looks unhappily at her brother and her father alternately. One of the monitors above her head starts flashing.

“Yes, for God’s sake,” Alexander agrees with her, angrily. “Can’t you see that you’re upsetting her?”

The two of them turn back toward Sarah, shocked. Jonathan looks guilty, as if he’d briefly forgotten that he’s in his sister’s sick room. The Earl, on the other hand, still looks wound up and is having obvious difficulty pulling himself together.

Nurse Carole comes in, looking serious and determined, and makes the men clear the space around the bed. She checks the sensors and the monitor readings.

“The patient needs to rest now. Perhaps it would be better if you left,” she says in a friendly but firm voice, adding quickly, “You can return as soon as Lady Sarah has been transferred to the general ward.” If it had been anyone else—anyone she didn’t have to make any concessions to—she would have thrown them out already. Which just goes to show that Sarah really isn’t well. But, just as we are about to go, Sarah protests. “No, let them stay,” she asks Sister Carole, but the nurse stands firm. “You need to sleep now, Lady Sarah. The loss of blood has weakened you,” she says and Jonathan agrees with her.

“Get some rest, Sarah. We’ll come back later.”

It’s clear how little he relishes the prospect of meeting his father there again, but for his sister’s sake he smiles.

All four of us head for the door, but Sarah calls after us, stopping us.

“Well, let Alexander stay, at least.” She looks at him. “Please?”

Jonathan and his friend exchange looks. They’re both clearly surprised by the request. But Alexander nods right away. “Of course I will. If you like.”

Sarah beams at him and he goes back to the bedside and sits down where Jonathan was just sitting, while the rest of us leave the room. As I look back, on the way out, I can just see Alexander taking Sarah’s hand as she shuts her eyes. Then the door shuts behind me and I’m standing in the corridor with Jonathan and the Earl. Sister Carole helps us out of the green gowns and takes them away, and then we leave the intensive care unit in silence and make our way downstairs to the entrance.

Jonathan and his father seem to have decided not to continue their conversation, at least not while we’re still in the hospital. But I’m so curious I can hardly contain myself.

When we get to the reception area, the Earl stops and talks with the receptionist, and I seize the opportunity to pull Jonathan out onto the sidewalk.

“What photo?” I ask urgently. “What was your father talking about?”

Jonathan lowers the corners of his mouth a little, expressing his distaste at the whole affair pretty clearly.

“When we were outside the restaurant on Friday night, a paparazzo must have taken a photo of us. The picture appeared on the cover of
Hello!
today, together with the remark that I’ve clearly found a new love interest—bla bla bla. The usual.” He sighs. “I assume it will appear in
OK!
tomorrow and it’s probably already circulating online too.”

I feel dizzy. “What? But that’s …How long have you known about this?”

Jonathan exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “Steven told me when I called to order the limousine. One of the employees discovered the photo and told him about it. He got hold of a copy for me, after he dropped us off.”

So that’s what the chauffeur wanted with Jonathan in the hallway just now—to show him the magazine.

“Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

Jonathan shrugs his shoulders. “I wanted to wait until we were alone.”

Slowly, very slowly, my brain begins to process this bombshell. “A photo of the two of us on the cover of a gossip rag?” I stare at him, stunned. How can he be so calm? “What happens now?”

He doesn’t have a chance to answer because the main door of the clinic opens and the Earl comes out.

Now I finally have a chance to take a closer look at Jonathan’s father. He looks incredibly English, with his brown pants and a V-neck vest over his plaid shirt. He’s wearing a brown tweed jacket on top, which looks much too warm for this sunny May day—a high over London has been providing us with unusually lovely spring weather for the past two weeks now.

He seems to have noticed that too. He sticks a finger under his shirt collar and tugs at it a bit. But I’m not completely sure whether he’s really sweating or whether his son’s critical glances are just making him uncomfortable. He clears his throat.

“I’ve had them call a taxi,” he says, and you can tell he’s not used to that form of transport. But what other option does he have, since his car’s been totalled and his chauffeur is in the hospital with a concussion? It clearly doesn’t occur to him to ask Jonathan to give him a ride, and Jonathan doesn’t offer him one either. He just treats his father’s announcement as a signal to make a show of taking out his phone and ordering Steven to bring the limousine back to the clinic. I ask myself once again whether their relationship has always been so obviously screwed-up.