Chapter Thirteen
Later that evening, Gideon knocked on my door to escort me to dinner. He was wearing a perfectly tailored three-piece suit I immediately recognized as Ermenegildo Zegna, one of Jamie’s favorite menswear designers. He’d slicked back his auburn hair just slightly, and for the first time since we met, was sporting a completely clean-shaven face. The rugged quality I’d come to associate with him had been replaced with a handsome and distinguished-looking man. I caught myself staring and quickly averted my attention to the bracelet I was struggling to close on my own. Gideon softly took hold of my wrist, fastened it, and gently kissed my hand.
I took a few steps closer to the full-length standing mirror in the corner of the room.
I smoothed out the one cocktail dress I’d packed. “I hope I look okay. You didn’t tell me it was going to be a formal dinner party.”
I’d accused Jamie of having a Downton-Abbey-induced freak out when he forced me to throw the dress into my suitcase. Now, I was extremely appreciative of his commitment to authenticity.
“You look great.” Gideon took a seat on the bed. “I’ve been spending so much time at Highclere, I haven’t been home in a while, let alone home with a girlfriend. I think my parents are just excited and decided to step things up a notch.”
I turned from the mirror to face him. “Girlfriend?”
He looked up at me. “Oh, you caught that one? I thought it might just slide through.”
I sat down next to him on the bed. “I like you a lot, Gideon. I think you know that. But we just…” my voice trailed off.
“We just met,” he said, finishing my thought. “I know. And I also know you were very much in love with somebody else for a very long time.”
“This isn’t about him.”
“Of course, it is. I’m the poor bloke who has to follow in the footsteps of Perry Gillman.”
I rubbed Gideon’s forearm. “If it’s any consolation, he wasn’t that guy when I met him. He was a summer camp counselor in the backwoods of Milbank, Pennsylvania.”
“We can take it slow, Gigi. As slow as you want to. Just think about it,” Gideon said.
“I promise I will,” I answered.
Jamie peeked his head into the room to check to see if we were ready to go down to dinner. He was wearing his Tom Ford blue velvet smoking jacket with black satin lapels and matching pants. He only wore that suit on very special occasions and looked every inch in character.
I picked my wrap off the bed. “If I don’t have the two most handsome dates tonight, I’ll be very surprised. You both look amazing.”
Gideon took my arm. “Shall we?”
We walked down the candlelit mahogany stairway to the library where some of Gideon’s parents’ guests had begun to congregate. Servers were walking around the room offering glasses of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
I nudged Gideon in his side. “I thought you said you didn’t have an army of staff?”
He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “It’s called a catering service.”
“Ahh,” I said, picking up a flute.
We inched our way farther into the room, and Gideon introduced me to several of his parents’ friends. It was obvious they traveled in a very specific social circle that included some of England’s most prominent families. A few people recognized Jamie and me from the week’s headlines and wanted to hear more about our plans for Victoria Ellicott’s wedding gown. I quickly put down my champagne flute. In this crowd, it would be best if I stayed stone-cold sober and didn’t risk any more slip-ups. I stood up on my tiptoes to look for Jamie and spotted him talking to Linney, Gideon’s sister, and a few of her girlfriends. After another half hour or so of mingling, Gideon’s father announced we should start making our way to the dining room for dinner.
Gideon and I found our place cards and took seats in the middle of the table beside his parents. Jamie sat down to the right of me, and the rest of the guests milled around, finding their assigned places. Just as I noticed the two empty chairs at the far end of the table, Jamie kicked me hard in the shin.
I lifted my leg up to examine it. “Jesus, Jamie, I think the spikes on your Louboutin’s just punctured my skin. I might be bleeding.”
“Perry and Annabelle just walked in,” he whispered.
I threw my leg back under the table and looked up. Annabelle and Perry were making their way to their seats.
Gideon pulled me close to him. “Linney must’ve invited them. I had no idea they were coming.”
I pushed my hair behind my ears. “It’s fine.” Jamie started to fill up my wineglass, but I put my hand over it to stop him. “I don’t want to be drunk,” I said.
Annabelle removed her wrap to reveal a tasteful slinky black cocktail dress that hugged her body in all the right places.
“You sure about that?” Jamie murmured.
I looked up at her again and tapped the glass. “Fill ’er up.”
Perry took his seat at the end of the table and unfolded his napkin into his lap. He looked over and our eyes met. Gideon’s father stood up and clinked his glass, breaking our gaze. Everyone at the table turned to face the Earl of Harronsby.
“Looking around the table, I see some old familiar faces and some new familiar faces. Amelia and I are delighted to welcome all of you to Badgley Hall. We are especially pleased Mr. Perry Gillman was able to join us straight off the stage at Her Majesty’s Theater.”
The room turned to look at Perry, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his face flushing.
“How many Olivier Awards is Elizabeth up for?” Gideon’s father asked.
Perry cleared his throat. “Twelve, sir.”
The table politely applauded his answer.
Gideon waited for the clapping to die down, then stood up next to his father. “A few of the Badgley Hall docents have graciously volunteered to give tours of the house and gardens this evening after dinner, for anyone interested in learning more about the house’s rich history. I hope you take them up on their offer. For now, though, please enjoy dinner.”
Gideon and his father both sat back down, and the servers brought out the first course—shrimp cocktail in antique frosted glass bowls.
I looked over at Perry, who was whispering something into Annabelle’s ear. His wavy, dark hair was pulled back, emphasizing his chiseled features and long lashes. Jamie caught me staring.
He prodded me. “Gigi, your shrimp cocktail’s gonna get…er…cold.”
I turned my attention to my plate, using the small cocktail fork to pick up a shrimp. My hands were trembling so hard the fork dropped from my hands, crashing into the glass bowl. The entire table turned at the clang. Gideon clasped my hand and guided it under the table, where he held it firmly until it stopped shaking. Soup came next and I knew better than to even attempt it.
An hour and a half and several courses later, dinner finally ended. The guests retreated to the drawing room for after-dinner drinks. When Gideon went to see about organizing the docents for the house tours, I pulled Jamie over to the quietest corner of the room.
“When everyone takes off to explore the house, I’m just gonna sneak off to my room.”
“You know Gideon’s doing all this for you. To impress you. The dinner. The tours. It’s all for you.”
Jamie’s words hung in the air as Annabelle came up behind him. I scanned the room for Perry and let out a breath when I saw him over by the fireplace, deep in conversation with Gideon’s father.
“Lovely to see you both. Linney just invited us this morning, or I would’ve mentioned it at the fitting yesterday,” Annabelle said.
“Perry was able to take the night off from Elizabeth?” Jamie asked.
“He’s been pulling back on his performing schedule a bit since he’ll be moving to Broadway in a few months.”
“That’s right, Gigi and I saw the marquee in Times Square just the other day. Didn’t we, Gigi?”
“We did,” I mumbled.
“It’s all very exciting,” she said, her eyes wide and shining with possibilities. “We’re going in a few weeks to look at some apartments for when we move.”
“We? You’re both moving to New York?” I asked.
“It’s easy enough for me to transfer to my company’s New York office. I want to be as supportive as possible,” she said.
I felt like she just sucker punched me in the stomach. In the beginning, Perry had pleaded with me to move to London while he was writing Elizabeth, but I couldn’t leave G. Malone and everything I was trying to build. After years of flailing, I’d just found my way back to solid ground. I’d finally broken through my creative block and was pumping out some of my best designs. I was angry at Perry for assuming his work was somehow more important than my own and naively believing we’d find our way back together after we took time apart. Instead, we imploded.
Gideon came into the drawing room and announced the house tours would be setting off in a few minutes. He asked us to divide into groups of four and make our way into the entrance hall.
Annabelle excused herself to return to Perry, and Jamie leaned into me.
“You okay, kiddo?” he asked.
“I think I’ll head upstairs,” I said.
Gideon found his way over to us. He put his hand on top of my shoulder. “There you two are. I know this is uncomfortable for you, so go with the first group and I’ll push Perry and Annabelle over to the third.”
“Great,” I said.
“Great,” Gideon repeated and went to find them.
“What happened to going upstairs?” Jamie asked.
“You’re right. I don’t want to hurt Gideon. He’s gone to a lot of trouble. I’ll just take the tour and then head off.”
“Well, I think I’ll go join group two, far away from both you and Perry,” Jamie said. “I actually want to learn about Badgley Hall.”
I laughed and shook my head.
“What?” Jamie asked.
“You fought me tooth and nail about going to Highclere Castle for the Downton Abbey tour, and now you’re a full-fledged Anglophile.”
He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “When in Rome…or South Gloucestershire…”
I joined Group One as they were making their way up the main staircase to some of the bedrooms off the first-floor gallery. The docent took us through the bedrooms no longer in use by the family because of their historical significance. The first and most impressive was the room Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn had supposedly stayed in on their honeymoon tour. The walls were a deep crimson, and the four-poster canopy bed was draped with the most beautiful gossamer fabric. I snapped a picture of it on my phone for the inspiration board Jamie had put together for the royal wedding.
The docent led us back downstairs while reciting information about the servants’ hall. Gideon had told me before Downton Abbey, nobody was particularly interested in viewing the downstairs quarters of these grand houses. After the airing of the show, it was the most requested tour. Gideon recently oversaw a full historical renovation to bring the kitchen back to its more original state, hoping it would be an additional draw for the house. I knew he was looking forward to showing off his achievement.
As we filed down the corridor, I could hear someone playing piano on the main floor of the house. I knew immediately it was Perry. Like the Sirens of Greek mythology who lured sailors to nearby shipwrecks with their enchanting music, I found myself called to him. I turned down the hallway and into the music room. Perry was alone, seated at the Baby Grand Steinway, head down, his fingers flying over the keys.
I slowly tiptoed into the room. “Debussy? Brahams?”
He stopped playing and looked up at me. “Gershwin, Gigi, always Gershwin.”
“Seems like sometime soon the world will be saying that about Gillman.”
He pushed his hair back and out of his eyes. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do,” I said softly. I leaned down and touched his face. “It’s been a long time since I saw you with your hair and beard this long.”
“It’s for Dudley—and with the transfer to Broadway, it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to cut it anytime soon.”
“I like it. Reminds me of when you played The Fiddler at Chinooka.”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “Chinooka.” Then, as if snapped right back into reality, he said, “Annabelle told me we were going to dinner at her close friend’s home. I didn’t know this was the home until we pulled past the sign for Badgley Hall.”
I walked to the far window. It looked out onto a large hedge maze that stretched far across the property. Even from this distance, I could see the maze was huge, dense, and complex. I wondered how long anyone had spent lost in it before they found their way to the center and eventually out the other side.
I turned to face Perry. He was still seated at the bench, his eyes firmly on my face.
“Back at Chinooka, you pleaded with me to be honest with Alicia about everything that had happened between Joshua and me. You said there’d be no closure for any of us without it. It’s the same now, isn’t it? You need to tell Annabelle who I am, so we can all move on.”
“Is that what you want? To move on?” He stood up from the bench. “Never mind. The returned engagement ring answered that question for me ages ago.”
“I just admitted what you were too much of a coward to say. We were done. There was no reason to keep pretending otherwise.”
“No. You gave up on us,” he growled.
“You gave up on us. With every unanswered call and each day that passed, you retreated farther and farther into your work. You forgot about the life we were building together, or maybe you decided along the way you wanted a different one. Well, congratulations. Annabelle told me she’s moving to New York to be with you when the show opens on Broadway, so it looks like you two are all set.”
From the far corner of the room, someone cleared their throat. We both squinted to make out who it was. Gideon emerged from the shadowy doorway and stepped into the moonlit room.
“I heard voices. I wanted to check to make sure nobody strayed too far from their tour,” Gideon said.
“Sorry, mate. I saw the piano and couldn’t help myself,” Perry said.
“It’s fine. We’ll attach a plaque that says, ‘Perry Gillman once played here,’ and we can charge more for the tour of the staterooms.”
I appreciated Gideon’s attempt to bring some levity to an awkward moment.
Gideon looked at his watch. “The docents should be wrapping up. I’ll go check on the other guests and let the two of you finish up in here.”
“Seems like a good guy,” Perry said after Gideon was out of earshot.
“He is,” I answered.
“And this place suits you, Princess,” he said, using his provoking nickname for me from when we first met at Chinooka.
“Princess?”
“No, I guess you’re right. Countess is probably more appropriate now,” he said, brushing past me as he walked out of the room.
Later, after the rest of the guests retired for the night, Gideon came to see me. He knocked softly, and I got down off the bed and let him in. He was carrying a small tray with a brandy decanter and two glasses. He set them down on the nightstand.
“I thought you could use a nightcap.”
“Yeah? Whatever gave you that idea?” I said with a half-smile.
He poured brandy into each of the glasses and handed me one. We clinked them together and each took a small sip.
Gideon took a seat on the bench at the end of the bed, grabbed my hand, and guided me beside him. He pushed my hair behind my shoulders.
“How you holding up?” he asked.
“Well, considering my ex-fiancé and his girlfriend are sleeping a few doors down from here, not too bad.”
“Don’t worry. I put them up on the other side of the house in the East Wing.” He leaned in and whispered, “Rumor has it, it’s haunted.”
I smiled. “Why are you being so understanding about all this?”
“If you think it’s easy to sit across the table from the guy who just graced the cover of Rolling Stone magazine and not feel like a massive wanker, it isn’t. But, I like you, and I think you like me, and if we’re going to have any shot at this, I’ll just have to accept our paths are going to cross with theirs.”
“Maybe not for too long. Perry’s moving to New York in a few months. So is Annabelle.”
“New York’s not much bigger than London as far as certain social circles go,” he said.
“I know that.”
“Look, the question I asked you earlier tonight. Forget it. There’s no reason to rush. I’m happy just getting to know you better and taking it as slowly as you need me to.”
“Are you saying this because of what you walked in on with Perry and me?”
“It’s obvious you still have feelings for him. Maybe it isn’t love, but it’s clear whatever he said tonight hurt you. It’s written all over your face.”
I looked down, afraid of what else my eyes might give away.
Gideon caressed my cheek, sliding his hand down so it cupped my chin. He pulled my face toward him and leaned up to kiss my forehead.
“Get some sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow,” he whispered and left to go back to his own room.
I slid down into the big four-poster bed and stared up at the green crushed velvet canopy.
I closed my eyes and swore I could hear Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue coming from the salon, its evocative melody creeping up the grand staircase and into my room.
Gideon was wrong. It wasn’t just the East Wing that was haunted. This whole house was full of ghosts.