Break Me: Smith and Belle (Royals Saga Book 12) Read online

  “See why we’re not worried,” I said under my breath.

  “He still might know something.”

  As we approached, Rowan whipped around, taking a defensive posture like he’d been cornered. He relaxed when he saw my face. “Oh, it’s you.”

  It was a good thing the man worked with plants more than people. “How’s it coming?”

  Georgia shot me a look that said she didn’t approve buttering him up, but didn’t speak.

  Judging by the look on Rowan’s weathered face, he didn’t approve of small talk either.

  “Fine. Wish this bloody snow would stop.” He shook a bit more snow off his precious plants and continued, “Heard there was a bit of excitement here last night.”

  Rowan, unlike the rest of the staff, didn’t live on the estate. He had a home in the village. I had no idea why, given that he seemed to be here during every daylight hour and then some. He was always on property before I’d risen for the day and never left before supper.

  “Yes. An accident,” I told him.

  “Thornham’s always had more than its fair share of accidents,” he said darkly.

  “Actually,” Georgia jumped in, seizing her window of opportunity as soon as he spoke. “That’s what we want to talk to you about.”

  “About what?” He raised one bushy eyebrow, pausing to reach for a shovel before starting to clear the path leading to the offices.

  “That’s not necessary,” I said. “I doubt Belle will make it into the office today.”

  “It’s better to do it now than let more collect,” he said stubbornly and continued his work.

  “We wanted to ask you about your old job,” Georgia said, shifting the conversation back to what we had come to discuss. “More specifically about when you worked here before.”

  “It was nearly fifty years ago.” He paused and rested the shovel in the snow. “And I didn’t work here for long.”

  “We were just curious. We’ve heard some stories in the village,” I said. I didn’t want to press the old man. If he was unwilling to share, so be it.

  “I was only eighteen. They kept a full staff of gardeners,” he explained. “Like I said, I wasn’t here that long.”

  “Okay, then, “Georgia said in a disappointed tone.

  “But my older brother had been working here for five years before the disappearances,” Rowan went on. He went back to shoveling and continued, “The stories he told. Like I said, lots of accidents.”

  “What kind of accidents?” I asked. Maybe it was the cold air around me or the snow, but my body seemed to be kicking into some type of survival mode. Blood roared in my ears. Why hadn’t we learned about Thornham’s past before we purchased the place? Why did I think it mattered now?

  “Little ones, most of them,” Rowan said as though this explained it. “One child would push another. A broken arm. Then there was the incident on the roof.”

  “The roof?” Georgia repeated.

  “Some say one of the girls slipped,” he said. “Others say she jumped. She claims she was pushed.”

  “She fell off the roof?” I asked, my gaze traveling instinctively to look at the house. Even at this distance, it loomed along the horizon. I couldn’t imagine anyone surviving that fall, especially with the driveway below.

  “Not that roof,” he said. He pointed the shovel at the former stables. “That roof.”

  “Was she okay?” Georgia asked.

  “She hit her head. Some say she forgot things after that. I suppose it hardly matters. She’s gone now.”

  “Do you know where they went?” Georgia asked innocently.

  A muscle in his jaw ticked as he shrugged. “I suppose that’s what they found in your basement. Everyone always suspected they were dead. They think it was the mother that did it.”

  “Her bones weren’t down there,” I confirmed. “And I know people around the village claim to have seen her over the years.”

  “That’s rubbish.” Rowan laughed and resumed shoveling.

  His reaction struck me as odd. He clearly put some stock in the rumors about the Thorne family.”Why’s that?”

  “Because they couldn’t have seen her. But that won’t stop the village from talking. Nobody has anything better to do than imagine wild stories.”

  “How do you know?” I asked carefully.

  He stopped and looked me in the eye. “Because Miranda Thorne is in an insane asylum in Brighton.”

  I was still processing Rowan’s revelation when I reached the house, realizing we had new company. I tore inside the house. Racing upstairs, I found the doctor leaving my bedroom. He stepped through the door and shut it with a gentle smile.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “I was just here checking on Mrs. Price. I’m sorry it took me so long to get by. With the holidays I’m stretched a little thin.”

  I found myself making a mental note to make a financial contribution to the local clinic that would ensure we found ourselves on the top of his list in the future.

  He looked at me for a moment, then turned and made sure the bedroom door was completely closed behind him. Lowering his voice, he said, “Can you tell me about what happened the other day? Mrs. Price’s recollection of the event seems to be a little fuzzy.”

  I filled the doctor in on what I remembered from that day, everything from the milk supply all the way to finding her on the ice, and how concerned she’d been to be with Penny alone after that. He listened without comment until I stopped.

  Then he nodded his head thoughtfully. “Mrs. Price seems concerned that it’s down to her antidepressant, but it shouldn’t be causing that. It is possible that it’s a side effect of the sleeping tablets I gave her, but she claims she’s not taking them very often.”

  “I think she took one that morning.” She’d been in a state after Penny had been inconsolable. I hadn’t thought anything of it.

  “Then it’s best for her to avoid them. Some people are known to sleepwalk while taking them. It’s very rare,” he added quickly when he saw my face. “Although, I did have a patient drive all the way to Surrey without realizing it once.”

  I stared at him, wondering if he had earned his medical degree online, but kept the thought to myself. “We’ll definitely avoid it. Is there anything she can take to help her sleep?”

  “Best stick to an herbal tea. I’m sure she’ll recognize a camomile properly,” he said with a wink.

  “I’m sure she will, too,” I said, not hiding a caustic note in my voice. I was beginning to rethink my donation to the local clinic. Maybe it was best if I took Belle to see a doctor in London in the future. She certainly didn’t need an old wanker condescending to her.

  “I left a week’s supply of her new medication for her,” he told me, missing my anger entirely. “You’ll need to have the rest picked up at the pharmacy.”

  I nodded, moving closer to the door. I wanted to check on her and see if the good doctor had irritated her as much as he did me.

  “Mr. Price,” he said, stopping at the top of the staircase. “Detective Longborn mentioned you were looking into the Thornes.”

  My hand froze on the nob, and I nodded.

  “I treated Mrs. Thorne, too. Small village.”

  “Was what they say about her true?” I asked.

  “Some called her crazy,” he said, saying what I hadn’t. “I don’t like to use that term, but that’s as close as I’ve ever come to true insanity.”

  I studied him for a moment, an icy hand wrapping itself around my heart as I considered what he was really saying. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I had the chance fifty years ago to intervene,” he said sadly, “but I was young and foolish, so I didn’t. The accidents. The stories we heard. Someone should have done something then. Just like someone has to do something now.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked. I wanted to hear him say it.

  “I’d keep a careful eye on your wife, Mr. Price. Thornham do
es funny things to people.” He tipped his hat and continued down the stairs, leaving me with more questions than answers.

  Jane passed him on the stairs. It was the first time I’d seen her since the party last night. She smiled warmly at the doctor before floating the rest of the way up. “I came to check on her. Edward filled me in on what happened last night. It sounds like a tragic accident to me.”

  “It was, but Belle blames herself.” I managed to force the corners of my lips up a little.

  “She’s always been the motherly type,” Jane said with a sigh. “I saw it when she lived with Clara, and, of course, she had to take care of herself when she was a child. She’s too hard on herself for her own good.” Jane’s eyes narrowed into a shrewd look. “That’s why you must go easy on her.”

  “I try,” I promised. But I couldn’t help feeling as though I was failing. If Jane was right, what Belle needed most was someone to take care of her. “I feel like she doesn’t want me to mother her.”

  Jane laughed, shaking her platinum head. “Don’t mother her! I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood me. Just be her refuge. That’s all any of us want from love: a safe place in someone’s arms.”

  “Is she giving you advice?” Belle asked, startling us both. “She’s always giving relationship advice.”

  “That’s because I know what I’m talking about,” Jane said, recovering quickly. She moved to Belle’s side and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears. “Do you want to tell me about your night—or should I tell you about mine?”

  Belle laughed for the first time all day. “I think I’d rather hear about your night.”

  “Hughes has already asked me to go to Paris,” Jane told her, steering her back towards the bedroom. She tossed me a wink before she closed the door to gossip. It was a good distraction for Belle—for the moment. But if I knew Jane, she’d depart in the same flurry of activity she arrived in.

  I found myself walking down the hall, not really clear on where I was going. Somehow, I found myself at Edward’s door. I knocked, wondering if he’d made it back yet either. He opened the door, sporting bed-head. He squinted at the light in the hall and held a hand up to block it from his face.

  “Hungover?”

  “More than a little.” He closed both eyes as if words actually hurt to speak. “Need something?”

  “I was thinking that maybe Belle could use some time away from the house.”

  Edward drew a breath, and I knew he understood why I was bringing this up. “She wanted to go to London for a shopping trip.”

  “I’ll talk to Georgia.”

  “I don’t know if we need—”

  I flashed him a don’t-fuck-with-me look and he shut his mouth. “I’ll talk to Belle.”

  12

  Belle

  “If you check your phone one more time, I’m going to confiscate it.” Edward had taken the backseat, which had only left him craning to see what I was doing in the front. He leaned over my shoulder and swatted my arm. “We’ve only been gone an hour.”

  “I know.” I turned off my screen and placed my mobile in my lap, already feeling the urge to check one more time.

  “Give her a break,” Georgia said from the driver’s seat. “This is the first time you’ve been this far away from Penny, isn’t it?”

  I swallowed and nodded. The last few days had been calm at Thornham since Nora’s accident on New Year’s Eve. But calm at Thornham felt like a relative concept. I hadn’t wanted to leave the estate. Edward had insisted we go through with taking our shopping trip to London. Jane had left the day before, swept off to Paris by Hughes, and I wasn’t entirely certain when she might return. That made finishing her guest room feel less important. I doubted Georgia cared very much about her living space. But Edward’s insistence was both infectious and persuasive. I got the impression he needed a shopping trip more than I did. I’d finally agreed, and then, Smith had insisted that Georgia drive us. I’d wanted to take Penny along, but I was met with resistance on all sides. It seemed I “deserved a break from the baby.” I couldn’t help thinking that it had less to do with a break and more to do with no one trusting me to handle her for a whole day in the city. I’d lost the debate, and now Penny was home with Nora. I had even managed to pump a few bottles of breast milk so she wouldn’t have to give Penny formula. She was in good hands. Smith would be there the whole time. Still, I found myself nervously tapping the sleek black console of Georgia’s Porsche.

  “Maybe we need to get her drunk,” Edward piped up helpfully.

  “I really am going to have to babysit you two,” Georgia muttered, exiting the M25. Spotting a sign for Heathrow, my nerves shifted. Despite my worry about leaving Penny behind, my excitement grew with each mile that took us closer to the city. I hadn’t been back since Penny was born, and I had spent most of that trip trying to go into labor. This would be the first time in months that I could walk around freely, doing whatever I wanted. I didn’t care what Georgia thought, this called for champagne.

  When we reached Harrods, Georgia pulled directly up to the entrance. She ignored the door attendant clad in his pea green uniform, trying to wave her down. “I’ll be in in a few minutes. Behave yourself.”

  “Yes, mum,” Edward teased her as we made our way out.

  “I’m sorry but there’s no parking—” The man immediately froze when he spotted Edward and moved to the door. People in the crowd, who’d turned to look at the renegade Porsche, began to whisper. For one second, the paranoia I’d felt since moving to Thornham took hold, and I gripped Edward’s arm. He dragged me inside with practiced disinterest, nodding to a security guard, who moved to block the curious onlookers from following us.

  “I haven’t missed that,” he gritted out.

  “Honestly, I forgot how much of a stir you cause.”

  “Trust me, it’s been worse the last few months.” He forced a smile, but it was flat on the edges like his body wanted to grimace instead.

  I could only imagine after his husband died so soon after their overly politicized marriage that the reporters had been relentless. The last time we’d been here before Penny was born, he’d kept a low profile by sporting a style that was somewhere between panhandler and rockstar chic. Now, in his pressed khaki trousers and oxford button-down, he was instantly recognizable.

  “Where to first?” he asked, displaying a remarkable tenacity for forgetting that dozens of people had just stopped to gawk at him. The looks continued inside, but due to the upscale nature of Harrods where it wasn’t unusual to see a celebrity, or in this case a prince, shopping amongst you, no one approached us.

  “Third floor,” I chirped. We were here for the guesthouse, not ourselves, which meant going to the home department.

  “Okay, but I have strict instructions from Smith,” he confessed to me.

  My eyes shuttered for a moment, wondering if I’d even be allowed to use the loo alone, but to my surprise, Edward added, “He says I’m to make sure you pick up something really expensive, and really useless, for yourself.”

  “Am I, now?” I said with a laugh. I shouldn’t be surprised. Smith had always known how to spoil a girl. I’d once discovered he bought the entire fall collection of Louboutins and had it delivered to his closet for my use.

  “Deal.” I dragged him toward the lifts, bypassing the bronze escalators that led to more tempting pursuits. It also avoided a half dozen new arrivals who were pointing at Edward like they were visiting a zoo. “But first, let’s figure out what to do about the guesthouse.”

  Part of me had hoped that Georgia would take the opportunity to return to London full time on this trip, but she’d insisted on driving us here and back. Whatever she was up to with Smith, they were still in the thick of it. I chose to trust my husband, not pushing him for answers as to the real reason behind her stay. I knew he wanted to keep an extra set of eyes on me and the baby, but it was more than that. Doubt tickled the back of my mind. We’d been through this before, but then he’d
been more honest about what was happening. I didn’t know if he was trying to keep me from more anxiety or if he saw me as the primary danger confronting us.

  “Don’t do that,” Edward said, breaking into my thoughts as the lift dinged, announcing we’d reached the third floor.

  “What?” I asked, blinking and trying to get my attention back on him.

  “You’re worrying,” he told me. “I’m going to have to start plying you with champagne before noon if you don’t stop.”

  “I’m not sure Smith would approve of that.” I trailed my finger along a table, displaying a lovely selection of Wedgwood plates as we made our way to the bath and bed linens.

  “It was his idea.”

  “It was?” I stopped.

  “Well,” Edward hedged, nudging me onward, “he said to make sure you enjoyed yourself by any means necessary.”

  “That sounds like permission to me.” I couldn’t help giggling as I looped my arm through my best friend’s. All around us, displays of luxury fabrics and bespoke decor tempted shoppers into redoing every room in their house. Thankfully, most of Thornham had been recently decorated or I might find myself spending a small fortune. Shop attendants murmured hello’s and polite questions as we passed, but we simply nodded and thanked them. The one nice thing about the luxury store was how well it trained it’s employees to be helpful but not bothersome. Still, we were gathering the usual amount of interest I expected anywhere I went with Edward.

  “What about this one?” He asked, pointing to a classic Ralph Lauren-designed bedding set, its tartan duvet cover perfectly complimenting a thick, navy velvet coverlet. It was simple, elegant, and would do for most guests. I nodded. “That will be good for Georgia’s room.”

  “But I suppose we should do something a little more eccentric for Jane?” he guessed.

  “Other people will stay there,” I murmured, considering my options, “but I want Jane to visit as often as possible and feel comfortable.” We meandered over to a different display, this one with silk sheets in rich, jewel tones. I was debating whether I should continue the blue into the other side of the guest house or go with the deep plum color I preferred when Edward muttered beside me,” Are you fucking kidding me?”