Uncovering You 9: Liberation (11 page)

A thousand frantic thoughts come to mind. Hugh’s coming? Why? Jeremy wants me to get dressed for him? Again—why?

And I’m reminded, quite unintentionally, of the last time we had a gathering at the estate.

I can’t help the negative associations that bubble up. Jeremy drugged me and I was led to believe I was losing my mind. Even though, since then—since the night after, when he’d slapped me—he’s been absolutely perfect, this sudden announcement puts me on edge.

We’re stopping in front of the doors before I even get a chance to speak.

“Run along, now,” Jeremy says. “You have only an hour and a half to get ready. It’s paramount that you look flawless tonight. I’ll leave you to it.”

True to his word, Jeremy goes his own way, toward the home office. I’m left struggling with feelings of nervous anticipation.

Okay
, I tell myself as I climb the stairs to Jeremy’s bedroom, and our now-shared closet.
There’s a reason Jeremy invited his father to dinner. He wouldn’t do it ‘just because’
.

What might the reason be?
I have no idea.

I shower quickly, glad to shed the constricting work clothes. I blow dry my hair and apply the usual, lightest touch of makeup.

I look at my reflection in the mirror. I look…not amazing. But not half bad, either. Definitely more than presentable, but by no stretch
flawless
, either. Not what Jeremy requested.

I can’t help it. Long hours during the day, coupled with Jeremy’s insatiable appetite at night have created a lifestyle not exactly conducive to sleep. My eyes are slightly red—well, there’s Visine for that. The discoloration underneath? Nothing a little more concealer can’t fix.

And so, I spend way more time than anticipated analyzing my reflection, searching for blemishes, and doing my best to make them less noticeable.

Jeremy’s words had the edge of a warning:
It’s paramount that you look flawless tonight
.

I don’t know what he’s planning. I sure as hell don’t want to disappoint.

Could this hearken back to his obsession about maintaining appearances? What kind of picture has he painted of our lives to Hugh?

And the way he sprung it upon me has me more concerned than anything. ‘
Oh, hey Lilly, dinner’s in an hour and a half with the man I despised growing up and who is probably a danger to you. Run along now and try not to let that affect you.’

I scoff. Jeremy didn’t tell me about it until the last moment on purpose. Does he want me to be off-kilter? Why?

Flawless
, I keep repeating in my mind.
Flawless, flawless, flawless
.

I don’t know if I’m ever going to get there. And fuck him for telling me that I should! It’s a goal nobody can reach. The more I obsess over it, I tell myself finally, the further away it’s going to seem.

So after more than an hour locked away in the bathroom, I finally emerge, only to realize I have less than thirty minutes to pick out a dress.

‘The red one,’
he said. I look at the rows of fabric before me with a wary eye. There are dozens of red dresses there. Which one did he want?

I walk out of the room and lean over the railing. “Jeremy?” I call out. “Jeremy, I need your help with something!”

I hear his footsteps, and then a barked, “What?”

“What dress do you want me to wear?”

“Are you kidding? You called me out here for that?” He emerges from the hall and looks up at me.
He’s
already changed into a crisp, beige silk suit, quite fitting for the warmer spring weather outside. “You didn’t just get out of the shower, did you?” He sounds incredulous.

I roll my eyes, huff, and turn away. He can be impossible sometimes!

“Lilly!” He shouts my name.

I stop but don’t look back. “Yes?”

He exhales audibly, and I can just picture him rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he says, “I’m sure that whatever dress you pick out will be just fine.”

Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.

“I’m sure it will be, too,” I say, a bitchy bite in my tone. “After all, you were the one who approved their purchases.”

With that, I walk back into the bedroom.

“Stubborn, arrogant man,” I mutter under my breath as I jerk the hangers out of the way searching for the mythic, ‘perfect’ dress. “No. No. Wrong. Wrong…”

And so it goes down one entire rack, and then the next. I know I’m just taking my frustration out on this search. The point isn’t even the dress really, or the way Jeremy informed me of tonight’s company, when it comes down to it. The point is that I am becoming more and more annoyed with my own reaction to everything tonight. It’s a vicious cycle. I don’t know what Jeremy intends. This fuels my uncertainty, which, in turn, fuels my frustration
at
myself for feeling uncertain, and so on and so forth.

I’m probably putting way too much stock into the importance of dinner. But then again,
Hugh
is coming. Jeremy’s father. And although this has nothing of a ‘meet-the-parents’ vibe, it’s still very much unsettling.

I’m probably guarded and on edge because of all that Jeremy told me about Hugh. The way that he presents a certain danger to me. The way that he likes to operate from the shadows, unseen and out of harm’s way. The fact that, as far as I know,
he
was the one responsible for Jeremy’s mother losing her hearing. That’s me making a pretty big assumption, but what else fits? I know he beat his wife.

That
could be the root cause of my discomfort. Tonight, I’m going to be having dinner in the company of two very volatile, very destructive men. Even if I feel that Jeremy is on my side, he still has that obvious capacity for violence that I can never forget.

I check the clock. Fifteen minutes left. “Fuck this,” I mutter, grabbing the next red dress I see. As least I don’t have to worry about it fitting.

Ten minutes later, almost precisely at seven, I glide down the stairs, affecting the demeanor of one completely in control and self-assured.

In reality, I‘m anything but.

Jeremy is waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. “Five minutes early,” he says. “Impressive. In my experience, you give a woman ninety minutes to get ready and she’ll stretch it out to the final seconds.”

“Maybe that’s not so much a blanket description of our gender,” I answer sweetly. “Perhaps, it’s more a testament to your poor choices of former companions.”

He laughs. “You do look marvelous, though, Lilly. I’m impressed.”

“Why, thank you, Jeremy.” I give him a slight, mocking curtsy. “You don’t look half-bad yourself.”

“I try hard now that I have you to keep up with.”

I eye him sideways. He laughs again.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” I ask. “Why’d you invite your father here?”

“Oh, that?” Jeremy’s eyes glint with mischief… or maybe something a tad darker, a bit more perverse. “
That
, you’ll have to wait and see for yourself.” He checks his watch. “Don’t worry, now. It won’t be long.”

We enter the dining room together. Jeremy separates from me and takes his usual seat. I take mine across the table from him.

There are four sets of cutlery.

I look at Jeremy. “I thought only Hugh was coming.”

“I invited Rose as well.” Jeremy picks up a glass of ice water and takes a sip. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I—no,” I stammer. “Why would I mind?” I remember that thing Jeremy screamed out in the midst of his night terror. I sit up straight. Maybe I’ll finally get some answers. “In fact, I think that’s a marvelous idea.”

“Do you, now?” Jeremy muses. He leans toward me. “Why?”

I shrug and make something up on the spot. “The three of us haven’t had a chance to be together in one room since—Jesus—since Christmas dinner when you pulled me out of the dark.”

“Hmm.” Jeremy appears satisfied with my explanation. “Remember, Hugh will be here as well.”

Footsteps announce the arrival of a third person. I look up and see Rose. She’s dressed impeccably. I’ve never seen her like this. She’s wearing a tea length, lavender dress with lace detailed cap sleeves, with her hair down. Silver waves curl around her neck. She has a beautiful pendant at her throat, and two stunning diamond earrings.

What the hell is going on?

“Mr. Stonehart,” she says, smiling at Jeremy. “Miss Ryder.”

“Rose,” Jeremy makes an expansive gesture in welcome. “Please, won’t you sit?”

“It will be my absolute pleasure,” she says. “Thank you, for inviting me tonight.” She glances my way, and surprises me with a wink. “Though I must say, I feel a little ridiculous in these clothes.”

“Nonsense,” Jeremy smiles. “You look both elegant and sophisticated, just as you deserve. It brings up memories of older times, does it not?”

Rose shifts under the questions, suddenly uncomfortable.

I make a mental note of her reaction.

She clears her throat. “So,” she says. “Who’s the fourth spot for? You didn’t invite Charles as well to surprise me, did you?”

“No, no.” Jeremy almost laughs. “I have a much more refined surprise in mind. Though Charles is free to join us as he wants, as the night progresses.

“Somehow, though,” Jeremy adds after a moment’s reflection. “I think he will prefer to sit this one out.”

I share a look with Rose and see the discomfort on her face.

Does she not know Jeremy invited his father? Why? Should I tell her?

I have a feeling, however, that there are undercurrents to the night to which I am completely blind. Dangerous ones. Ones that scare me.

I decide to take a more subtle approach.

“Jeremy,” I say sweetly. “Would you mind telling me why you invited Rose to join us tonight?” I smile at her, “Not that I mind her company, of course.”

“Now, now,” Jeremy says. “Is it so surprising that I dedicate one night to spending time with the two women who know me best?”

“And Hugh?” I ask.

Rose does not react to the name. And then I realize: if she knows Jeremy’s father at all, she would know him by his real name! I rack my brain, but can’t for the life of me remember what it was.

“Hugh will be…an honored guest,” Jeremy says. He looks at Rose. “But now Lilly has ruined the surprise.”

The doorbell rings. “Ah,” Jeremy says. “The fourth member of our company has arrived.” He gets up and starts for the door. “Excuse me a moment, while I let him in.”

As soon as Jeremy’s out of earshot, I lean toward Rose and hiss, “Hey! Do you know what all this is about?”

She takes a breath, closes her eyes, and lets it out slowly. Her hands have a death grip on the edge of the table. “My dear,” she says finally. “I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“I don’t like it,” I say. “When did Jeremy tell you about dinner?”

“Less than an hour ago,” Rose answers. “He rang me up and told me to put on my most expensive dress. The one he’d picked out for me years ago for the right occasion.”

“This is it?” I wonder abstractly. Another shiver crawls up my spine. I feel like Rose and I are pawns in some invisible chess game that Jeremy is playing tonight. “He sprung it on me at the last moment, too. Rose, you know who Hugh is, don’t you? He’s Jeremy’s fa—“

I cut off. Precisely at that moment, Rose’s jaw falls open. She goes ghostly white as she stares behind me.

I spin around in my chair to see what she’s looking at.

And there, entering the dining room, are Jeremy and his father.

The two men could not look any more dissimilar. In fact, if I didn’t know it as true, I would never have guessed they were related.

Jeremy stands tall and proud. He walks with a confident strut, a cocky, arrogant edge to each step. His head is up, his shoulders back, his impressive body emphasized by the crisp lines of his pale blazer and matching pants.

And then there’s Hugh. He’s wearing an old, brown pea coat. A brimmed hat sits low over his eyes. He almost looks like half-a-man beside Jeremy—not just because of the stark disparity in height. Somehow, standing beside Jeremy, being compared to Jeremy, makes him look shrunken, small. His clothes seem too big. None of that smug self-assurance he’d shown in the airport in Boston, or the few times he’s been one-on-one with me is on display here. In fact, he looks…cowering.

What did Jeremy do to him?

That question is lost in the commotion that ensues.

“Blackthorne,” Rose breathes. It sounds like both a gasp and a prayer.

Hugh looks up, then, and sees Rose. The most splendid expression of shock and disbelief comes over his face.

Jeremy, there beside him, smiles widely.

Hugh breaks out in a run. Rose is up and rushing to him just as fast. They meet halfway, just behind me, and embrace like old lovers.

“Blackthorne,” Rose mutters, again and again and again. She touches his face, as if she’s afraid he’s an apparition who might disappear at any moment.

And Hugh looks at her just as tenderly, just as sweetly. In fact, for a frightening moment, I think they’re going to kiss…

That possibility is shattered by the loud crash of dishware against the floor.

I spin toward the noise. Charles is there, standing in the gaping entrance to his kitchen, looking, for all his kindness and gentleness, like a reaper out of hell. The large silver tray he was bringing to the table is on the floor, along with all the steaming piles of food.

His mouth twists into an expression of absolute rage. And with a wordless snarl, he flies at Hugh.

I scream as Charles collides with Hugh and tackles him to the floor. Rose is knocked aside.

Jeremy begins to laugh.

I’ve never seen such ferocity in my life. I would never have guessed it of Charles. But even though he’s younger, larger than his opponent, Hugh gives him a good fight. They grapple on the floor, rolling this way and that, engaged in a terrifying battle.

Rose’s shrieks pierce the room.

All that happens in the span of a second. In less than the time it takes to blink, before my shock has even begun to wear off, I bolt from my spot and run to separate the men.