Page 77 of The Devil's Deceit
“Come inside and you’ll see what I mean.” I take her hand and unlock the front door. I’ll admit, the hallway is grand, the staircase leading to the upper floors even more so, with its oak railings and matching treads, but as I veer left, where the owner told me the snug is located, cozy is the word that instantly comes to mind.
The fire is already lit, probably by the live-in housekeeper, and it crackles and spits, sparks landing on the hearth. There’s a three-seater couch tucked under a wooden beam, complete with a gigantic fur throw, and bookcases jammed with books line two walls.
“This is gorgeous,” Grace whispers, fingering the spines of the books before moving in front of the fire and warming her hands over the flames.
“I promised you cozy, and that’s what you’ll get. This was the original part of the house. It’s been extended over the years, but there’s still plenty of old-world charm to be found.”
“I love it. It’s perfect.” She stands on tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. “Thank you, Christian.”
“Thankyoufor agreeing to marry me.”
“Let’s agree that we’re both amazing.”
I chuckle. “Deal.” I slide my hand around the back of her neck and lightly squeeze. “How about we grab a bite to eat, then head out exploring. There are still several hours of daylight left.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Stomachs full, we leave our suitcases on the bed in the smallest room in the house, as Grace insisted she’d rather stay in the original part of the house than the far moregenerously-sized extension. It’s fast becoming my reality that I can’t say no to her. Whatever she wants she can have. I’m not yet willing to examine too closely why her happiness seems to be so tied to my own, but I’m not mad about it, either. Grace’s enthusiasm for the smallest thing makes me appreciate how lucky I am. Sure, I’ve suffered loss and guilt and have demons like most people, but I’velived, helped in no small way by unlimited funds. I’ve never had to worry about where the next meal is coming from or how to make rent. I’ve traveled extensively, and those experiences have enriched my life.
Grace has seen so little of the world, and despite her self-confessed fear of flying, I’m determined to take her places she won’t ever have dreamed of. A fear of flying is easily overcome by the right education. Once she’s settled, I’ll raise the subject again and see if I can persuade her to give it a try.
It’s after one when we leave the house, and many of the sights I’d like to take her to are a full-day excursion, so instead, we wander the streets of the local village until the sun dips beneath the horizon.
Somewhere between the cobbled streets and her soft laughter, I forget our arrangement was intended to be temporary.
I’m under her spell, and the thing is, I’ve no intention of breaking it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
GRACE
From what little memory I have of the Cotswolds, it’s lost nothing of its charm. Or maybe it’s Christian’s charm that has me walking around with hearts in my eyes and a chest filled with joy. I’m losing the battle to stay neutral.
Hell, if I’m honest with myself, I lost the battle a while ago. Sooner or later, I’ll need to face up to the fact that extricating myself from him is going to rip my heart to shreds, and I have no one to blame but myself.
My mum used to tell me that when people show you who they are, believe them. The problem I have is that since the first day I met Christian, he has shown me he’s good right through to his core. Oh, I don’t doubt his family walks the line of morally gray. No one gets that rich without some nefarious activities threaded through their veins, but I just cannot match up Christian the murderer with Christian the husband.
The last three days have been some of the happiest I can remember. His endless patience and extensive knowledge of history has had me enthralled, and there have sometimesbeen hours in the day where I’ve forgotten I’m supposed to play a part. Or maybe I don’t want to think about the lies I’ve told and must keep telling if I’m to stand a chance of uncovering the truth.
If Uncle Daniel or Arron could see me now, they’d lose their ever-loving minds. I managed to send a text to Arron to let him know about the trip, and I know when we return to Oakleigh tomorrow, he’ll have questions. I’m not sure I’ll have the answers, though. At least not ones he’ll want to hear.
“Ready for lunch yet?” Christian asks after three hours exploring Blenheim Palace.
“God, yes, please. My feet are killing me.”
We make our way to one of the on-site cafés, and I grab a seat while Christian goes up to the counter to order food. Marshall takes a seat at an adjacent table, within touching distance of me, although his eyes are locked on Christian the entire time. I thought having him follow us around would be awkward, but most of the time, he fades into the background, and I forget he’s there. When we return to Oakleigh, Christian says he’ll introduce me to my personal bodyguard. One thing I cannot do is allow myself to forgetheis there, watching me like a hawk. I have no doubt every employee within the De Vil ranks has their loyalties straight, and I’m not dumb enough to think that’s with me.
Christian returns with soup and sandwiches for all three of us, as well as bottles of water. It’s one more thing that I find attractive. He isn’t too up himself to get his bodyguard food and water. I’ve never been up close and personal with rich people before I met Christian, but I’d assumed they were all vile creatures who went around hoovering up money and hoarding it while the masses suffered. I’m sure manyarelikethat, but Christian isn’t. Nor, from what little I’ve seen, is his family. They treat their staff with kindness and respect, and aren’t above doing things for themselves.
We finish lunch, and I rise to my feet to put my coat on. As I shove my arm in the sleeve, I knock my handbag on the floor. The clasp bursts open and everything spills out including (kill me now) a stray tampon that rolls across the floor.
“Ah, crap.” I race to scoop up the tampon, hoping no one has seen it. As I turn back to our table, Christian is crouched on the floor gathering up the rest of my stuff: ChapStick, hand lotion, a coin purse I keep in case I need loose change.
My work ID badge from the job I quit hanging from a blue lanyard.
My work ID badge.
My heart stops dead. Oh, no. No, no, no. How the fuck did that get in there? I haven’t seen that since my last day at work. I fall to my knees, snatching my bag and the ID badge from Christian’s hands. I stuff it inside and retrieve a small pack of tissues from underneath the table.
