Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“I have a lot of projects on the go. Diversity is the key to making a fuckton of money,” he called from his bathroom. “And my assistant isn’t here to keep it in check.”
“Have you not heard of a cloud?” I called back. “I think the amount of paper in here is responsible for the extinction of two species of birds, one of squirrels, three chipmunks, and an adorable class of owls.”
He came out of his bathroom grinning.
He stopped in front of me. “Do you know you’re at your most fuckable when you’re giving me shit?”
“A girl tries,” I quipped.
He reached, grabbed my wrist, lifted my hand and dropped the two halves of a small blue pill in my palm. He then curled my fingers around them.
“Go. Sleep. When I finally seduce you, I want you firing on all pistons too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Flirt.”
“Tease.”
I winked at him then got up on my toes and kissed his cheek.
After that, I headed to the door.
“Daphne?”
I stopped and turned back.
“Dad orchestrated tonight. He wanted me, you, Danny, Mum and Portia uncomfortable. He also put Chelsea in that position. Mary. Michael. Michael is his closest friend.”
And there was the reason for his earlier Mr. Broody.
“I know,” I said gently.
“And then came you, making me end the night smiling.”
“Don’t get soppy on me, Lord Alcott.”
“Never.”
I stopped bantering and said, “Sleep well, honey.”
“You too, Daphne.”
I shot him a smile. Then I went to my room.
I was still feeling woozy.
I was also feeling warm. I was feeling happy. I was feeling confused at both. I was trying not to feel worried about the fact I was beginning to feel a lot for the very-soon-to-be Earl Alcott.
What I was not feeling was, after I checked in on Lou (who was thankfully sound asleep), when I hit the Rose Room and saw how fabulous it was when the girls had prepared it for me to relax for the evening, another bridal bouquet being placed on the turned-back fold of the sheets.
And this one I knew wasn’t right.
But it was sending a message.
I just didn’t understand what that message was.
Because it wasn’t roses.
It was an exact replica of the one I left in the bathroom down the hall.
But bigger.
And it was carnations.
Fourteen
THE HAWTHORN SUITE
I sat in bed, Kindle in hand, unsure if this was the right thing to do.
That bouquet.
The story of Joan.
I did it.
I opened Steve Clifton’s book, The Woman in the Orange Dress, on my e-reader.
He’d dedicated it to, Aunt Dorothy, for all the talent you weren’t given the time to share.
Also, To Mum and Dad, for believing in me.
Then I hit the Preface.
It began:
To understand what happened to Dorothy Vera Clifton, you have to understand the stories of Virginia Alcott, Joan Alcott and Rose Alcott. The broken three.
On a spiked heartbeat, I immediately closed the cover.
The broken three.
The broken fucking three.
I had not read that before Virginia said the same thing to me in a dream.
No, I had not read that before she said the same damn thing in my dream.
My heart was beating too fast, and my hands were shaking.
Those flowers weren’t right.
Someone was toying with me.
I had no idea how, or why, but they were.
Or maybe, two nights, not enough sleep, I needed to get a handle on myself and a good night’s rest.
Ian had been sharing about Virginia. I’d looked up and read about Joan. I must have read about Rose somewhere, since Virginia mentioned her in the dream. I just forgot. I’d done a lot of reading about Duncroft. I’d read about Dorothy. And the word broken wasn’t a rarely used word.
The bouquets, who knew? Maybe they only had carnations. It wasn’t like they were right next door to a flower shop. It also wasn’t like they weren’t generous with food, drink, in-house dry cleaning. They could give whole bouquets as gifts for guests. It could be their thing. All I had to do was ask.
I was blowing this out of proportion.
It was dark and it was time to go to bed, and it’d been another roller coaster day.
And truth, I was anxious about having another bad dream.
I’d accepted Ian’s sleeping pill, but I hadn’t taken it.
I got up, went to the bathroom where I put the two halves in a pretty, crystal dish set out either because it was pretty, or to put jewelry in.
I took half of one.
There was a multitude of lighting in the bathroom, including dim light that shone on the floor under the vanities.
I turned that on and left it on.
It lit my way back to the bedroom, and, once I turned off the lamps on the nightstands, the light coming from the bathroom took the edge off the dark.
I did one better, going to all the windows and pulling open the curtains.
The moon shone in.
Good.
I was learning.