Page 39 of Carbon

Another problem I hadn’t thought of. Mother’s ire wouldn’t only affect me. Could I bear to line Midnight up in her sights and wait for her to blast both barrels?

Maybe Angie was right, and a relationship with Gregory would be the kindest thing for everyone.

* * *

Another day, and another posh restaurant, this time quintessentially British. Dishes included a traditional roast dinner and macaroni and cheese—my go-to comfort food.

“Two portions of the game pie,” Gregory told the waiter. I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “Trust me—it’s delicious.”

I’d never been the biggest fan of game, but Mother was always telling me to expand my horizons. “I’m sure it will be.”

“So, have you had a busy week? What is it you do for your sister exactly? I understand you’re her personal assistant?”

“I help with book marketing, advertising on social media, organising events, sending out promotional copies, that sort of thing.” Everything Angie did for me. “It’s been quite a busy time, what with the book launch coming up next week.”

“What’s involved in that?”

“Angie will be doing signings at three local stores and four in London, a few interviews, plus we’ve got the masquerade ball at the end of it.”

“Ah, yes. I’m very much looking forward to attending.”

“Do you have your costume organised?”

“Our butler assures me it’s all in hand. How about you?”

Back when the idea of the masquerade ball first came up almost four months ago, and before Midnight made an appearance, I’d sketched out my dress based on the picture of Lady Anne in my head. Dorothy had spent weeks sewing the outfit for me, although the idea of wearing it anywhere near Mr. M now gave me the jitters.

“My dress is almost finished.”

“I’m sure you’ll look wonderful.”

Dinner arrived, and despite my reservations, I had to concede Gregory was right—the game pie did taste good. Rich and flavoursome with crisp pastry, I’d certainly order it again.

“I hate to say I told you so...” he said.

“But you did. Thank you.”

“A friend of mine co-owns this place. The pheasants come from his estate.”

“Please pass on my appreciation.”

“I’ll be sure to do that. Can I tempt you with apple crumble for dessert?”

“Does he grow the apples as well?”

Gregory roared with laughter, even though my question had been serious. “Not much fun in hunting apples, but I believe they buy in fresh produce every day.”

Dessert tasted every bit as good as the main course, the tartness of the apples offset by creamy vanilla ice cream. The intimate setting, discreet staff, and good company all made for the perfect second proper date. I didn’t count the business dinner Gregory had taken me to when he was behaving like a prick.

On the way home in his town car, Gregory shuffled as close as the seatbelt would allow, holding my hand again. He had a surgeon’s hands, with long, slender fingers, soft skin, and buffed nails. I tried to imagine them roaming over my body, but no matter how much I willed it, I didn’t feel the same shiver of excitement I got every time I thought about Midnight. Would Gregory ever be capable of that sort of passion?

When he climbed out of the car behind me back at home, I wondered if I’d find out.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he said, settling one hand lightly around my waist.

“Thank you.” My voice came out croaky.

We walked in silence, and my nerves built. Would he invite himself in for coffee, or more?

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