Page 74 of Duke It Out
“Oh yeah,” He spears a piece of asparagus and pauses with it in mid-air, his tone casual. “I had a call from someone at the Telegraph Magazine wanting to do a feature on the rewilding project.” He grins before popping the asparagus into his mouth then carries on with his mouth full. “They want to send a photographer.”
There’s a beat of silence. Rory is preternaturally still, like a lion waiting to pounce.
“I said no press.”
It’s as if someone turned the thermostat down by twenty degrees. I glance at Anna, whose expression doesn’t change but I see the flicker, she’s noticed it.
“Journalism’s a dying art, anyway,” she says, and I shoot her a narrow-eyed glance. “The power is in helping people control their narrative.”
My fingers tighten on the stem of my glass.
Jamie barrels on. “I think it’s a really good opportunity. We’ve got some amazing plans—in fact I wanted to talk to you about it, Edie. They were talking about a community storytelling role. You’d be amazing at that.”
I know he’s trying to help, but it’s like someone turned a full power search light right in my eyes. I want to crawl under the table and hide. The hairs at the back of my neck prickle.
Anna cuts a slice from her steak, her knife moving elegantly as she pauses for a moment, her chin raising slightly as she smiles. “Edie? She can’t even sell her own book.”
The silence is immediate.
“I—” I open my mouth and nothing comes out.
I want to say something, anything. Something sharp andself-deprecating. All I manage is a small sound, like air escaping a balloon.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rory’s voice is low and commanding and the words land like a gavel on the table.
Anna’s back straightens. I curl my fingers around the rim of my wine glass, clutching it too tightly.
“Edie is an excellent writer,” he says, almost too lightly, as he picks up a priceless bottle of red. He tips some into my glass, and then into his. The silence lengthens. “We selected her based on her experience, her academic background, and my personal enjoyment of her previous work.”
I have to hope he’s talking about my ghost-writing of Annabel’s memoir and notTarot Cards for BeginnersorA Cat for all Seasons.
Opposite, Anna raises her brows slowly, as if she’s taking mental notes. I take a sip of wine I don’t want. My cheeks are hot, and I swallow it back with an audible gulp. I sneak a sideways glance at Rory and realise his eyes are still on me and for a second, it’s like I’ve been pinned in place. For a second I forget everything. The NDA, Anna, the rewilding project, the prospect of my reputation circling the drain – all of it.
“I’m sure she’s brilliant,” says Jamie, breaking the tension. “No offence, Edie, but I’ll have to take my brother’s word for it, under the circumstances.”
And with that the mood shifts. I watch Anna shift her focus from Rory to Jamie with practised ease. Gregor comes in with another course and Rory’s eyes meet mine for a moment as if he’s checking in on me.
I’m left with something warm and unfamiliar under the humiliation I feel.
I don’t know how Anna does it – how she always seems to know the moment to strike, and then follows it up with something breezy so I’m left wondering if I’ve imagined it all.
“Come on,” she says, looping her arm through mine as we leave the dining room stuffed full of dessert wine and chocolate bombe. “We haven’t climbed the turret yet, and I’m dying to know what’s up there. It’s the perfect time to do it.”
“In the dark, when it’s howling with torrential rain and wind outside?” I hang back, dubious.
She tugs my arm, laughing. “Exactly. It’s got to be haunted. Let’s go and see if we can find any of the Kinnaird ancestors floating about.”
I let her lead me in the direction of the narrow, twisting staircase because despite my fear I’m still too keyed up from dinner to think about sleeping. Because Rory’s words,“Edie is an excellent writer”are echoing round and round my head on a loop, and I can’t quite tell if it was real or I imagined it all.
The turret stairs are worn from hundreds of years of footsteps, and the walls smell of cold and damp. It’s tucked into a corner of the house like it grew there by magic, although in fact it was the remnant of the original building, and the rest of the house was rebuilt around it nearly two centuries ago. The steps are narrow, and I keep bumping my shoulder as we climb up and up, Anna’s voice floating down to me with every echoing footstep.
At the top there’s a heavy wooden door which sticks. It takes both of us to shove it with our shoulders before it gives way and we step into a circular room. Anna opens the window and a gust of wind rushes in, making the frame rattle.
“Careful,” I say, grabbing it as it threatens to crash againstthe wall. “If it breaks it’ll cost about a million pounds to fix, I bet.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Anna looks outside and I stand by her side, feeling the warmth of her shoulder against mine as the spots of rain land on our skin. “And they’ve given you the keys to the castle. All that access, all those documents. They must really trust you.”
I clench my hands. My palms are sweating, and my stomach feels like lead.
