Page 115 of Scandal
“Sure,” I reply absently.
She hesitates before moving right along. “All right. Your dress fitting this afternoon has been canceled since you and Lord Blackstone will no longer be attending the historical preservation society gala this Friday.”
“Why?” Asher and I had been looking forward to that one. We both have an interest in history, and he’s expressed a desire to become more involved in Scottish preservation.
“I wasn’t informed, but I’m assuming it’s a scheduling conflict.” She shrugs, scrolling through her notes and emails on her iPad. “It also looks like the art gallery exhibition and the dinner party with the Earl of Thornhill have been canceled.”
She lists three other cancellations, and I look at her, then down at my calendar. “That’s nearly everything for the next two weeks.”
“Yes,” she confirms with a curt nod, her hot pink dress a stark contrast to the steely look on her face. “It appears so.”
As if staring at the calendar on my screen will make a difference, I lock onto one thing in particular that has not been canceled and let out an involuntary groan. “Girls’ night. That’s today?” My head falls into my palms. “Why did I agree to this?”
Evie blinks twice. “I don’t know. Lack of willpower?”
“You don’t think it’s too late to get out of it, do you?” I’m not sure I’m in the mood to be social tonight.
Evie shrugs, unfazed by my request. “I could cancel and make an excuse that you’ve fallen ill.”
As much as I dislike the idea of socializing, I’m not keen on the idea of lying either. I’ve been living one huge lie for months now. Things are supposed to be simpler now that Asher and I are together, right?
But a familiar unease settles deep in my belly. Nothing between Asher and me feels settled. If anything, over the last few days, things have grown restless. There’s a nervous energy between us that wasn’t there before, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s having second thoughts after our romantic declaration of love in the garden.
“No. I appreciate the offer, but it would be rude of me to cancel now. Besides…” I try to force a smile. “I could use a friend. Or two?” I give her a pleading look.
She levels me with her deadpan stare. “I get off at five. Isobel isn’t due to arrive until seven.”
“What if I paid you overtime?”
Her brow rises. “You don’t have the authority to authorize that.”
I fold my arms across my chest and give her a challenging grin. “I’m sure the countess would grant it if I convinced her it’s in my best interest.”
“She must really like you,” she says, more as an observation than anything else. But that’s exactly how Evie is. At work, she’s all about facts, not feelings. I secretly hope that whenshe’s outside these walls, she binges romance novels and hosts outrageously themed book clubs with all her best friends, the ones she’s made over the years.
Okay, maybe that’s my dream, but I would still love it for her too.
“She does,” I find myself saying. “At first, I thought she just liked the benefits I could provide for Asher and the rest of their family. But now I see she genuinely cares for me.”
Admitting this only makes the nerves in my gut churn even more.
Because now, it wasn’t just Asher I would be leaving behind if things between us went south.
It would be an entire family.
Asher missed lunch, afternoon tea, and family dinner today. He’s been absent quite a lot this past week, but this is a new record.
I’m trying not to take it personally. His father’s health is worsening every day, and I know the stress must be affecting him. But it’s hard not to. He’s never treated me like a stranger.
From the moment I arrived in Scotland, we have been each other’s oasis—a safe haven where we could let down the walls we had carefully built. With him, I could just be myself.
And up until last week, I thought he felt the same.
But then, something shifted. Something changed.
And now I can’t help but wonder what he sees when he looks at me—when he bothers to look at me at all, that is.
Just as I finish touching up my makeup in front of the vanity mirror for girls’ night, Asher walks into our suite looking a little disheveled and slightly agitated. He’s dressed in his preppy earl attire once again. Dark slacks and a heather-gray button-down. No tie or jacket today, though. His hair is unusually messy, as if he’s been running his hands through it, and there are dark circles under his gorgeous blue eyes.
