Authors: Kate Perry
“And hair,” Bea said. She waved a sheet of paper. “And if we needed more proof, this is her birth certificate. Her name is Summer Welles. Ten quid to the person who names her father.”
“How can that be?” Portia asked incredulously.
Bea raised her brow. “Please don’t tell me I have to explain the birds and the bees to you, Portia.”
“We have a half-sister, and she’s named after us.” Portia said in a shocked tone. She looked at Rosalind. “You talked to her.”
She was designing a wedding dress for her. “She told me her name was Sara.”
“What’s she like?” Portia asked reluctantly.
Lovely. A lot like her. Only she was a liar.
“On the bright side, Nicholas Long was adopted by Tabitha Welles.” Bea handed over the adoption papers. “Not that he could have been Father’s son. He’d have claimed him in a second.”
She hadn’t even thought of that. Not that she could feel relief over it. Mostly she felt numb. Shaking her head, she stood. “I have to go.”
Viola’s eyes were sad for her. “Do you want company?”
No, because that’d only remind her what an idiot she’d been. She shook her head and moved to leave.
“Rosalind.”
She stopped and turned around at Bea’s command.
Her sister opened her mouth. Then she shook her head and said, “We’re here when you need us.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded, knowing without a doubt they had her back.
There was only one place for her to go.
She walked the whole way to Nick’s house. Through the south side of Hyde Park, by Harrods and its elaborate Christmas displays, and through the quaint side streets of Kensington.
It was late when she rang the buzzer. The house was dark, and she wasn’t sure he was home.
But then the lights came on and the door swung open.
“Rosalind.” His face lit just as brightly as the entrance. But then he must have registered her expression because his enthusiasm dimmed. And then he winced, saying, “You know.”
She stepped back, her hand over her heart, feeling it crack. Until that moment, she’d hoped they’d been wrong, or that Nick hadn’t been aware of anything. “Why did you lie to me?”
He started to reach out to her, but he stopped short and stuck his hands in his pockets “I’m not going to be an ass and say I didn’t lie, because I did. I didn’t want to, but I’d promised Summer.”
“Summer Welles,” she said repeated with a shiver. “Not Sara.”
“Bloody hell.” He ran a hand over his neck and then held it out. “At least come in out of the cold while I explain.”
“You can explain all you want, but I doubt I’ll understand.” She woodenly stepped inside the doorway and let him close out the night.
“Summer Welles is my half-sister, by your father. Her mother raised me after my father died. Summer is, for all intents and purposes, my sister, and I promised Tabitha I’d keep an eye on her.”
“Keeping on eye on her seems like it’d preclude having her lie about her identity.” She stubbornly swallowed the tears that sprang into her eyes. “Is your name really Nick?”
“
Yes.
” He took her arms, looking into her eyes. “My name is Nick Long. I’m not a lawyer though, I’m a Formula One race car driver. Everything you know about me is true, except for that one thing Summer made up.”
She shook her head, feeling like she’d been sideswiped. “Why would she do that?”
His inner debate was written on his face, but she saw the moment he decided being truthful to her was more important than his promise to Summer. “She was concerned about the will,” he admitted.
“The will.” Because if her father had changed it and left everything to the other woman, Summer would receive it.
“Rosalind—”
Shaking her head, she pulled out of his arms. “I know what you’re going to say. You did it because you love Summer and you didn’t know me before, but now things are different.”
“They
are
different.”
“Bullshit, as my best friend would say.” She shook her head. “You knew what you were doing, and that it was wrong, and you still did it.”
He nodded. “All that’s true.”
“You’d do it again.”
He paused, and then he nodded again. “You’re right. I would, because I love Summer. She’s my sister. Even when I want to strangle her it doesn’t change that I’d protect her.”
Rosalind wilted into herself.
“But, Rosalind”—he took her by the arms—”wouldn’t you do idiotic things for your sisters?”
At one time, she’d have said no, but it was different now. She’d broken into a house for them, and she knew that if they needed anything she’d be there for them.
Nick leaned down, looking into her eyes. “I made a mistake, and I’m sincerely, direly sorry. But maybe I can explain.”
“How?” She shook her head. “What can you possibly say that’ll make it better?”
“Will you stay and listen?”
She should have turned away—she knew better than to look into his eyes. But her heart made her nod, even though logically she knew there was nothing he could say that’d take away the pain of being deceived.
Chapter Twenty-six
Nick watched Rosalind fold her arms, waiting for him to start. He knew he had this one shot to make her understand, or else she wouldn’t be able to forgive him.
He raked a hand through his hair, walking back and forth in front of her, not sure where to start.
From the beginning, he decided. He faced her. “My mother left my dad the week after I was born.”
Her gaze sharpened, obviously not expecting that.
“They weren’t married, and she was really young. My father’s family was well-off and disapproving of her. I understand why she’d have run away.
“When I was three, my father met Tabitha Welles.”
He saw Rosalind stiffen. He couldn’t blame her, given the circumstances, but it made him sad because Tabitha, though misguided in her decisions, had been a warm, loving woman. “Tabitha used to say that she fell in love with me before my father. They’d been planning to get married when my father had a heart attack and died. He was only thirty-three.”
“I’m sorry,” Rosalind murmured.
“I don’t deserve your compassion.”
“You really don’t.” She gestured to the floor. “Can we sit?”
“Please.” He settled cross-legged across from her, wishing he could take her hand but knowing better. “Anyway, I had Tabitha. My father’s family had no interest in taking me, so Tabitha did. She always told me I was the best gift my father had ever given her.
“A year after my father died, Tabitha met Reginald Summerhill and fell in love again.”
Rosalind stiffened.
He told himself to ignore the sudden wall she’d thrown up and continue. “Tabitha was a romantic, and when she loved someone, she loved him wholly and completely, giving her heart completely away.
“From the time I was a young boy, I remember not liking Summerhill much. It was more than the fact that he paid no attention to me. Why would he? Even my father’s family wasn’t interested in knowing me, so it made sense. But he treated Tabitha like a possession he remembered he had from time to time, and I didn’t like that.”
“He treated everyone that way,” Rosalind said, sounding like she said it despite herself.
“Tabitha didn’t see it though. She was happy for the little bits and pieces he gave her, and she was absolutely beside herself when she found out she was pregnant.
“The next nine months Reginald coddled her, making sure she had everything she needed, until he saw the baby was a girl.
“Tabitha didn’t care. She was thrilled to have a baby. She named her Summer so that she’d have a part of the Summerhills with her, and she told me I was a big brother now and that Summer was mine forever to protect. She made me promise to take care of her as long as I was alive.
“Not that it was a hardship. I loved her the moment she was born. She looked scrunched and splotchy, but the first time I looked down at her she grabbed my finger in her tiny fist, and I knew she was mine even though there was no blood between us.
“When I was old enough, I left Tabitha and set out to discover myself. I didn’t want to go to university, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I was backpacking through Italy when I met a race car driver and joined his crew.
“Just like with Summer, the first time I drove a race car, it was instant love. I learned from Pietro and his crew and eventually began racing myself.
“Tabitha hated it. She used to ask me to stop, saying how dangerous it was. Ironic that she was the one to die in a car crash, isn’t it?”
Rosalind sighed. “Nick.”
“I’m telling you so you understand.”
“You’re clearing up the lies, but none of that explains why it happened.”
“Summer always felt the odd man out. She’s always longed to be one of the Summerhill sisters. Somehow, in her mind, having a piece of the estate meant she belonged.” He took her hand. “I was definitely wrong in going along with Summer’s scheme. I kept urging her to come out and tell you who she was.”
She pulled her hand away. “But apparently you weren’t convincing enough.”
“She’s bloody stubborn.” He stared at her steadily. “It’s a Summerhill trait that runs true.”
He could see she wanted to deny that Summer was related, but she couldn’t. He smiled sadly. “Family and love are complicated.”
“Summer isn’t family,” she declared, her mouth set firm.
That was what it came down to, wasn’t it? He nodded though he didn’t agree. “Okay.”
She frowned. “You don’t believe that’s true.”
He brushed a finger against her cheek. “No, but you don’t either.”
Rosalind stood up abruptly. “I need to go.”
“Will you think about what I said?”
“How can I think about anything else?” She speared him with a look that broke his heart. “You
hurt
me by deceiving me with this. How can I ever trust you?”
“I’ll help you find the will,” he said, standing up.
She held her hands out. “And then what?”
“And then you can do with it whatever you want,” he said without hesitation.
She shook her head, confused. “You’d betray Summer?”
“No, I’d trust you.”
“If only you’d trusted me before.” She turned and let herself out of his house.
As much as he wanted to go after her, he knew he had to let her go—for now. He’d come up with a way to make it up to her.
He had to.
He walked out of the elevator to the reception for Summer’s office.
The pretty woman he’d met before sat at the desk, taking a call. She looked less bright and peppy than she had the last time.
Join the club.
She studied him as she ended the call. “You’re Summer’s brother.”
“Stepbrother,” he corrected, not feeling generous. “Is she in?”
“I’ll call her.” The woman punched a couple buttons, murmured into the receiver, and then nodded at him. “She’s waiting for you in her office. You know where that is?”
“I’ll follow the smell of sulfur.” Saluting the receptionist, he went to find Satan’s spawn.
She sat at her desk, writing on a pad of paper. She wore her traditional black dress, but over it she had on the colorful gypsy scarf Rosalind had given her.
He felt both sad for her and angry at her, but his anger took over. “Rosalind knows,” he said without preamble, closing her office door behind him.
Summer frowned. “Knows what?”
“All of it.”
“How did she find out?” She blinked, touching the scarf. “You told her?”
He sat in a chair and rubbed a hand over his neck. “Is how she found out more important than the fact that she knows we lied to her?”
“Was she angry?”
“What do you think, Summer?”
At least she had the grace to wince. “Did she say anything about me? Or the will?”
“Tell me you aren’t more concerned about the will than you are about your relationship with Rosalind.”
She lowered her gaze. “The will is important, Nick.”
“The will isn’t important. Your place with the Summerhills is, though, and you’ve compromised that.” He reached across the desk and took her hand. “Rosalind didn’t deserve being deceived. She cared for you. You should have seen the pain in her eyes.”
Summer looked stricken.
“I just thought you should know so you can grovel, too. Maybe she’ll be willing to talk to you.”
“She’s not talking to you?” Summer asked, eyes widening. “But she loves you.”
“What?” His attention sharpened on his sister.
She nodded. “Rosalind told me she loves you. It was a few days ago when we had tea.”
Something in his chest twisted. “That may have changed since she found out I betrayed her.”
“You didn’t betray her. I did,” she said, remorse heavy in her voice.
“I went along with your mad scheme. I knew better, and now I’m paying for it.”
Summer stood up with him. “It wouldn’t have worked anyway, because you’ll eventually go back to racing and she’ll go back to the States.”
He shook his head as he stood. “I’ve been thinking of staying in London and managing endorsements with Jon.”
“You didn’t think that Rosalind would stay here with you, did you?”
“Why not?” he asked. “She has family here.”
“She didn’t care before.”
“No, but maybe she’s realized how important family is, too.” He crossed his arms. “That aside, Rosalind gave you friendship, and what have you given her in return?”
Summer slumped onto her chair, playing with the edge of her scarf. “I made a mess of things, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Nick.”
When he looked at her he saw the little girl she used to be and his anger softened. He went to her, slung an arm around her shoulders, and tugged her to him. “I’m sorry, too.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Em’s feet hurt already. That’s what she got for wearing cute shoes for their date.
No, that’s what she got for wearing cute shoes when she had to take the tube. If Ben had picked her up instead of having her meet him at the café, she’d have been fine.
Joe would have insisted on picking her up. He’d have opened the door for her, and told her she looked amazing, and he’d have copped a feel—all within the first two minutes of seeing her.