‘Will you please come to us for Christmas?’ Poppy pleaded. ‘I know you don’t want to be anywhere near your grandfather just now, but we’re supposed to be a family. It won’t be the same without you there.’
It won’t be the same without Angelique there.
Remy thought of the cosy family scene Poppy was so keen to orchestrate: wonderful cooking smells and warm fires in every room. A fresh pine-scented Christmas tree decorated with colourful bells and tinsel with thoughtfully chosen and artfully wrapped presents for everyone beneath it. His brothers and their wives would be talking non-stop about brides and honeymoons and babies. The photos from Raoul and Lily’s wedding—where Angelique’s absence in them would cause him even more pain—would be pored over and he would sit there being the odd one out—along with his grandfather, of course.
He’d rather be on his own than suffer that.
‘Sorry, but I have other plans.’
‘I wonder what Angelique has planned,’ Poppy said as she handed back Rafe’s handkerchief. ‘Maybe I’ll invite her. Do you think she’d come now that you’re not going to be there?’
Remy frowned. ‘Why would you invite her?’
‘Why shouldn’t I invite her?’ Poppy gave him a haughty look. ‘I loved her the minute I met her. So did Lily.’
‘You spent all of five minutes with her!’
‘Maybe, but it was enough to know she’s a lovely person.’
‘I never said she wasn’t.’ Remy caught his brother’s look. ‘Lately, I mean.’
‘Did you know she’s cancelled the bridal wear contract?’ Rafe said. ‘It will cost her a fortune to get out of. One of the designers is threatening to sue.’
Remy felt his stomach drop. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘Social media,’ Rafe said. ‘Where else?’
* * *
Angelique stood back and inspected the tree she had set up in the sitting room of Tarrantloch. The scent of pine filled the air with a pleasantly sharp, clean tang. It brought back wonderful memories of Christmas with her grandparents all those years ago. She had even found in the attic the decorations they had used back then—miraculously overlooked by the ruthlessly efficient removal men—including the angel she had loved so much as a child. The angel was looking a little the worse for wear with her yellowed robes and moth-eaten wings but Angelique didn’t have the heart to replace her.
The festive season was the worst time to be alone. She had spent far too many of them in hotel rooms or with people she didn’t particularly know or like to do it again this year.
Poppy had invited her to spend it with her and Rafe in Oxfordshire, with Lily, Raoul and Vittorio, but she’d politely declined, even when Poppy had assured her Remy wasn’t going to be there. Angelique hadn’t asked where he would be spending Christmas or who he’d be spending it with.
She didn’t want to know.
The sound of helicopter blades outside gave her a little start. Robert Mappleton wasn’t due to arrive until tomorrow, on Christmas Eve. She had invited him because she’d found out he had spent every Christmas alone since his wife had died.
Angelique peered out of the window, but it wasn’t Robert who got out of the helicopter. Her heart banged against her chest as Remy came through the icy wind towards the house. She dusted off the tinsel sparkles clinging to her yoga pants before opening the front door. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I want to talk to you.’
She folded her arms. ‘So talk.’
‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’
She put her chin up. ‘I’m expecting company.’
He flinched as if she’d just struck him. ‘Who?’
Angelique saw his throat move up and down. His eyes looked tired. He needed a shave more than usual. ‘Robert Mappleton.’
His expression turned to stone. Unreadable stone. ‘I guess I should’ve guessed that.’
Angelique unfolded her arms. ‘Why aren’t you spending Christmas with your family?’
He gave her a brooding look. ‘I don’t trust myself in the same room as my grandfather. Every time I see him I want to punch him.’
‘I told my father I would punch him if he came anywhere near me.’
Remy stood looking at her for a beat of silence. ‘So...I guess I should leave you to it...’ He raked a hand through his windblown hair. He was too late. He’d left it too late. His gamble hadn’t paid off. She had moved on with her life. Robert Mappleton was far too old for her but she was probably searching for a father figure, given hers was so appalling.