I glance at Summer and she’s nipping at her lip again.
‘I’d be happy with my old room...’ She directs it at me and I shake my head.
‘That’s not going to work.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because those rooms haven’t been occupied in years—and besides, you are to all intents and purposes the lady of the house now.’ I can’t hide the bitter tinge to my words. ‘You should have Gran’s old room.’
She pales. ‘No...’ she whispers. ‘I couldn’t.’
It’s like a knife twisting inside my chest, her obvious upset, and I want to take it back. The pain I’ve inflicted. But what of my pain? Why can’t I fixate on that and use it to protect myself and keep her at arm’s length?
‘And may I remind you,’ she continues on, her voice stronger now, ‘that not two days ago you made it clear I would never be seen as—’
‘One of us needs to,’ I interject quickly, knowing what she’s about to say and not wanting Mrs McDougall to bear witness. ‘My mother will have the east wing for her visits—for now. And many of the rooms to the rear, including your old one, are in desperate need of renovation.’
‘I think what you class as “desperate need” and what I class as “desperate need” are very different. I’m sure my old room will be plenty good enough, Edward.’
Mrs McDougall’s eyes are flitting back and forth between us. Her expression is unreadable but she’s certainly taking note. I’m not used to being questioned—especially in front of my staff. Coupled with the way Summer’s getting under my skin...and in the very house where we share a past... I need this conversation over. Now.
‘No.’ My tone brooks no argument. ‘It won’t.’
‘Fine.’ She folds her arms, stares me down. ‘But I’m not taking the master suite.’
Mrs McDougall chokes on what definitely sounds like a laugh.
‘Fine,’ I bite out. ‘I’ll take the master suite and you’ll take the adjoining room.’
Her mouth quirks just a little, and there’s no missing the triumphant spark in her eye.
‘I trust that is satisfactory?’ My voice is as tight as my hand around the delicate china cup.
‘Very.’ She graces me with a smile so sickly sweet that I want to recoil...or stride across the room and kiss it from her...bury the chaos of this situation in what I know would be explosive. No matter how unwise.
‘There you have it, Mrs McDougall. You can prepare the rooms.’
‘Absolutely, sir.’
I sip my tea, force my hand to relax, my body too, and listen for the click of the door closing on her exit.
‘It would be better if we saved the arguments for behind closed doors,’ I say.
Her frown is instant, the smirk on her lips quicker still. ‘Edward! Are you serious?’
‘I would prefer it if the staff were not aware of our...issues.’
Now she laughs. ‘Issues? Is that what you’re calling it?’
‘What would you call it?’
‘Well, that just now was us discussing sleeping arrangements. I hardly think it’s a criminal offence for Mrs McDougall to know that I don’t want to sleep in Katherine’s room.’
‘And what makes you think that I w—?’ I snap my mouth shut on the heartfelt admission. Dammit all. Why can’t I keep a handle on it when she’s around?
She starts to lift out of her seat, her eyes softening as she reaches for me. ‘Edward, I’m sorry, I didn’t—’
‘Leave it, Summer.’