Page 153 of Love ad Lib
‘Not at all, Estelle has everything well in hand. I want to be here with you, cheering from the sidelines as you take over the improv world.’
If Libby hadwild fantasies about moving to Somerset and spending her days dressed as Lizzie Bennet, entertaining tourists at the Jane Austen Museum, Henry’s words had shown her dreams the door. And they were just dreams. Her world was in London. Her friends were in London. Her job was in London, as was Henry’s now his situation with Conqueror had been resolved.
In a couple of months Claire would be back and they could pick up where they left off. And even if Claire were delayed, she’d find a way to make it work with Brandon. Respond, adapt, change. That’s what improv was all about. She’d had it easy with Claire. Running improv sessions and workshops with Brandon was going to be a new challenge and a fun one. She’d make sure of it.
She’d arranged to meet Lucas at Regent’s Park on Friday. It was close to Claire’s, so they could practice what she would say before she met him and review the recording afterwards.
On Friday morningshe was sick with nerves and she could tell Henry was worried. Each time he asked if she was okay and she denied it, the tension between them increased. She knew he was frustrated, but she had no intention of telling him anything. She was playing the part of successful improv artist and entrepreneur, not a broke wannabe undercover agent.
‘So, you’ll be back from Claire’s around six?’ he asked as she prepared to leave.
‘Yep.’
‘Anything in particular you want for dinner?’
‘Not fussed. Whatever you want.’
‘You don’t think you might have caught that sickness bug from Claire?’
‘Huh?’
‘You’ve hardly eaten anything all day. How are you feeling?’
‘Fine. I’m fine, honestly. I think it’s the heat. I’m not that hungry.’
His phone rang but he didn’t move to answer it.
‘Henry, I’m fine!’ She checked the contents of her bag. ‘Go answer it. It might be important.’
He hesitated, then went to pick it up.
She had to get away before he asked her any more questions. As he took the call, she opened the front door. Closing it quietly behind her, she took a deep breath and started jogging down the stairs. She could do this. She was a badass who was going to take Lucas down.
‘Libby!’ Henry was yelling from the flat.
She turned and ran back up the stairs. ‘What is it?’
He was at the door, his face ashen.
‘It’s Gram-Gram. She’s dying. I need to go back to Foxbrooke right now.’
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Libby: There’s been an emergency and I have to reschedule. I’ll text you when I’m back.
Lucas: WTF? I need that money, Lib-Lob. You can’t do a runner on me.
Libby: I’m not. Henry’s grandmother has been taken ill and we’re on our way back to Foxbrooke now.
Lucas: Cool. You can talk to the Duke about my art in person! When will you be back?
Libby: By Tuesday for the improv night.
Libby held Henry’s hand tightly as the train ran through the suburbs of west London into the countryside. With his car across town at his flat in Canary Wharf, it was quicker to take public transport. They’d packed overnight bags and Brandon had agreed to housesit for Mr Pussy.
Libby’s heart raced. There had been very little news on Gram-Gram’s condition, only that she’d taken to her bed the previous day and had gone downhill fast. Libby would have accompanied Henry back to Somerset had he asked, but his grandmother had already insisted she return with him to Foxbrooke. Libby couldn’t understand why. She’d only known the family a few weeks.
Henry didn’t talk, just occasionally checked his phone, his face set with tension.
