Oxford Whispers Part 21

Madison turned her back on Rupert and strode toward the entrance of Freud's. But before crossing the threshold, she swiveled her head to check on him. He stood at the same spot where she had left him.

Her self-esteem had already been bruised when he'd rejected her before. She wasn't convinced she had made the right decision.

Yet she was turning twenty-two today. It was time for her to take a risk. Rupert was her bet, the biggest bet she'd ever made.

But what would happen the next time he upset her? She might cry like most girls he dumped had done. Or instead, she might curse him and condemn him straight to h.e.l.l.

Rupert Vance was the one taking the greatest risk.

RUPERT WAS BORED to death and hungry as h.e.l.l.

Around him, the engagement party thrown by his father and stepmother-to-be was a champagne explosion attended by London's creme de la creme. But the lounge music grated on Rupert's nerves, with its sickening tones echoing across his family's London home.

Micro-sushi didn't count as real food after a tough day of training. Soon the rumbling in his stomach would be heard over the excuse for music Camilla always played at these social occasions.

Harriet's murderous look shook Rupert out of his pa.s.sivity. Their breakup was now official, but Camilla had made a point of inviting her younger replica anyway, as well as Harriet's parents, "such dear friends of ours." My a.r.s.e ...

He stepped toward a caterer and helped himself to a gla.s.s of elderflower water, the only thing he would drink that night. All of his muscles ached, making every movement come at a painful price. G.o.d, he hated rowing with a pa.s.sion. But the sense of achievement gave him pride.

Madison's face sprang into his mind. She would be proud too, when Coach Bartlett selected him for the Varsity Race. On Wednesday, he would take her on their first proper date. The thought made his heartbeat leap.

"Rupert, your father would like to talk to you. He's waiting in his study." His future stepmother had laid her manicured hand on his forearm.

"It's the middle of the party."

"You know him. He gets bored at events like these."

Crossing the marbled floor and the crowded hallway, Rupert headed for his father's retreat.

"Good evening, my boy. Take a seat." Hugo's formal manner, amplified by his tailored tuxedo, annoyed Rupert right from the start. "I hope the training went well today. I'm waiting for your report tomorrow."

"Good." Rupert chose the cushioned seat on the other side of his father's desk. The weekly activity reports imposed by Coach Bartlett had been a real pain, but Rupert knew he'd deserved the punishment.

"I have some great news for you. I found a fantastic opportunity this summer. My friend Freddie Munro is ready to take you on board at his hedge fund." Hugo had laid his hands on his white shirt, a satisfied smile pursing his lips.

Rupert leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs. "I don't want to be a banker, and you know that."

His father's smile morphed into a snarl, and his eyes squinted, preventing Rupert from seeing their true expression. "We both know that you're never going to stick with things long enough to get that Ph.D. It's time for you to leave the academic world and tackle the real one."

"I don't want to be a banker," Rupert repeated. There was always a cost to pay when opposing Hugo Vance.

His father swiveled his leather chair and burst into a round of humorless laughter. Rupert's hands gripped the arms of his own chair.

"So tell me, if you don't want to be a banker, what are your ambitions? Going straight into politics isn't the best idea. We've already discussed that."

"I want to be a journalist. I've found a summer internship at the Times. All on my own merit."

The bombsh.e.l.l had been dropped.

Hugo's face registered shock. "I take this is one of your white-trash girlfriend's bright ideas." Venom moistened his words. "Of course, I've heard about her. Harriet's parents are appalled by the way you treated their daughter."

Rupert launched himself out of the chair, the fingers on his right hand curled into a fist. This time he would punch that son of a b.i.t.c.h's face. Hugo's sneer told him his father expected his son to do that and prove his lack of control. Again.

Putting a leash on his temper, he stopped the trembling of his hands. "Leave Madison out of this. Don't ever disrespect her."

"You're getting sentimental."

"Father, I have a chance to be happy. Don't spoil it. I might be different from you, true. I've made mistakes in the past, I agree. But I'm trying to pull myself together now, trying to do the right thing." Surely his father would give him a break, at least once in his life.

"You'll grow bored with her." Hugo gave a dismissive wave. "But I won't let you spoil your career in the meantime. You have consistently let me down, let your family down and let your name down. You're making a mistake."

"I'm informing you of my choice. It would be great to have your support, but I can do without it." Rupert turned toward the study door, but he should have watched his back.

Hugo's voice stabbed him from behind. "This summer you will work in my friend's hedge fund. If you don't, I'll make sure this new, jolly happiness you're swimming in goes away and never comes back."

Rupert froze. The threat sobered up the flaring anger running through his body. He overcame the paralysis to turn and face his father. Hugo didn't even return his stare, silently telling his son he wasn't even worth looking at.

"Tell me what you're planning to do," Rupert ordered.

"I'm sure your new girlfriend doesn't know everything about you."

"Yes, she does," Rupert lied. He knew what weapon his father intended to use against him, the only one he feared.

"Come on, son. I'm sure you've kept a few secrets from her. Does she know you're a murderer?"

Chapter 32.

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT," Rupert shouted and kicked the chair he had risen from. "You're the one who made me feel guilty all these years. Just to make yourself feel better."

Disgust caused bile to rise from the pit of his stomach. He needed to escape, but courage he didn't know he had made him stand tall. He threw back his shoulders and lifted his chin. "If anyone killed Mum, it was you. Slowly, cruelly, but surely. And you were an adult, and her husband. No excuse."

"How much are you willing to risk? Once this amazing girl discovers what you are, she'll never want to see you again."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"This is what you did with your mother. You blackmailed her, so that she had to choose between you and me."

"What are you talking about?"

Hugo took a loud breath, then exhaled. "The night before she died, your mother asked for a divorce. The reason she gave was that she had to do it for you. For you. She didn't want you to think she was weak, that she was a victim. I'll never forgive you for ruining my marriage."

"Your marriage was ruined the first time you cheated on her."

Rupert wanted to cry. He had lost his father-what was left of his family. There would be no way back. He opened the door and the sound of the party drifted into the study.

"Leave Madison alone," Rupert ordered his father again.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll dig out some real dirt on you. Even Camilla would not lower herself to marry an a.s.shole like you." Without sparing one more glance for Hugo, he added, "I hope there's no heaven. If Mum could see us now, she would die again. Of shame."

Rupert had to get out of this viper's nest.

He left the house, the engagement party, and walked out onto Belgrave Square with its grand stucco residences. Knightsbridge and its shops would take Rupert's mind off the vision of his father sneering and threatening.

His own dad hated him. Surely that wasn't normal. Something must be wrong with either Hugo or him. At least now, Rupert had the start of an explanation.

Self-disgust took over his body, and he fought off a wave of nausea. A sour taste invaded his mouth. He inhaled the smoky February air to shake off the feeling. The sketchy memories of the night his mother had died flashed in front of his eyes.

He had been with her that night, but had survived.

After two days in a coma he had woken up, Monty's pudgy face staring down at him. His father never even took the time to tell his son that Laura Vance had succ.u.mbed to her injuries. After all, Rupert had been seventeen then, adult enough to take the news on the chin.

The story of a grieving son wasn't the entire truth.

Later, Hugo had sworn Rupert to silence in the name of the family's honor and to protect their reputation against the tabloids. For the past four years, the secrecy on the exact role he'd played in his mother's death had eaten Rupert alive. Even now, the burden of it was too much to carry on his shoulders.

He sought a bench along the pavement.

"I told you this girl would cause you trouble."

He lifted his gaze and traced the curves of Harriet's endless legs with his eyes. The fur coat he hated was wrapped around her skinny silhouette.

"What are you doing here? And how do you know ..." He stopped mid-sentence. Of course, Harriet would have spied on his confrontation with his father. She wasn't beneath listening behind doors.

She took a seat next to Rupert and lit a cigarette. After taking a puff she offered it to him. He took it, ignoring the tobacco ban he had set for himself.

"I've always known the truth about your mother, you know. I would have kept the secret for the sake of your family's reputation."

He could have denied everything, pretended she had misunderstood, but what for? He didn't give a rat's a.s.s about what this girl thought.

What really mattered was what Madison would think of him. He could always pretend and do what his father wanted, at least for the coming summer.

But what after that? What about living a lie?

Right from the start he had been lying to her, even that evening at the Turf. Not a real lie, just a f.u.c.king big omission.

"I don't care about the truth. I love you," whispered Harriet, sliding her hand up his thigh, higher and higher. Her teeth gave tiny, hungry bites at his throat. He let her.

Maybe he deserved this conniving b.i.t.c.h. Madison had told him he and Harriet were the perfect match.

A whiff of Harriet's flowery perfume reached his nostrils and brought back the nausea. He shook her off, then stood and threw the cigarette onto the ground before stamping on it.

"You don't know what love means. I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore." He moved away. The sight of her made him want to puke, or to bash her head on the pavement.

Harriet wasn't ready to let go. She threatened, "I'll tell the squeaky-clean American about your dirty little secrets. She'll hate you."

Rupert retraced his steps, grabbed Harriet by the elbow and forced her to stand.

Their faces were a few inches apart when he said, "Don't talk to Madison ever again. Don't get close to her. Don't even look at her. Or ..."

"Or what?" Harriet challenged him, echoing Hugo's question earlier.

"Or I'll kill you, like I killed my mother."

Harriet's body flopped back onto the bench, and Rupert headed to his father's house. Ten minutes later, he was driving back to Oxford, back to Madison.

The truth mattered. He owed it her. He owed it to himself.

TODAY, PETER INTENDED to show Sarah he was flesh and blood, he was the here and now. Tonight, he would reveal he was real.

Sliding against the wall, he cast rapid glances up and down the staircase leading up to Sarah's room. He was forced to act, and the haste increased the rate of his breathing.

Events had indeed moved forward at a pace he hadn't foreseen.

Tonight, the n.o.bleman would start his formal courtship. He had made a reservation at the Randolph, Oxford's legendary restaurant where the famous dined. Sarah would surely fall for such an extravagant expression of the young man's interest. What a conceited fool she had become.

Standing in front of her door, he wiped his damp palms on his trousers and settled his trembling fingers. Then, with a swift movement, he inserted the wrench between the door and its frame, forced the lock and broke into her room.

He stepped into her personal s.p.a.ce. Time was ticking. But he couldn't resist the intimate sight of her private life. The chance to experience it all on his own. Her desk was tidy, her pencils placed in a straight line, and her study books leaned against each other in alphabetical order.

Venturing into her bedroom, he opened the wardrobe and tucked his head into the midst of her hung clothes.

Her soft vanilla scent penetrated every cell of his being. He turned toward the single bed and fought the temptation to lie on it, to pretend he could rest in their marriage bed. However such indulgence would compromise his plan. He had to act. But his eyes stopped on the picture frame resting on the bedside table. Her family, the women who had sheltered her ancient soul, smiled broadly. They surrounded Sarah with signs of love. They looked genuine and very real.

The twitching of his cheek started again. Maintaining this facade, keeping up the physical appearances of this human life, demanded too much strength from him. His reserves would not last much longer. Sarah and her modern n.o.bleman had their own blood pulsing through their veins. They had the unlimited strength of their youth, whereas he was a visitor in this human realm. G.o.d had given them the physical chance of a new life, while his wronged soul had to cheat to exercise his justice.

Peter's shoulders slumped. He looked down at his hands, the hands of a stranger. Nothing was his, not even Sarah. Voices in the room below shook him out of his depressed state. He couldn't let doubt soften his resolutions; he would follow his plan through to the end. One month, maybe two, and his endless wandering would be over.

Sarah's powers had complicated his plan. He could get to her only when she was defenseless, when her guards were down.

A triumphant smile spread over his face at the thought that shot through his mind. All would be done by the time the d.a.m.ned race was over. Peter would not let Dallembert enjoy a victory, if victory there was.

Peter extracted an object from his bag and left it in the middle of Sarah's desk. Then he was gone.

Chapter 33.