Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
***
I pushed open the door to The Castleton Arms and looked around for Thomas. Why he couldn’t have just texted me the solution for the veil? Why did I have to come all the way into the village just to get that information?
Like I didn’t know.
If we met in person, I couldn’t avoid the inevitable conversation about how I’d gone in to kiss his cheek and ended up on his mouth.
God, he was infuriating.
So was tipsy Sylvie.
Tipsy Sylvie was a clumsy, blithering idiot.
Thankfully, Gramps had arrived home before I’d had to leave and had happily handed me his keys so I could drive here.
Unlike Tipsy Sylvie, Sober Sylvie was smart.
If I was driving, that meant I couldn’t drink or find myself in a car with Thomas again.
Win-win.
I caught sight of him at a corner table in the back, close enough to the fire to be warmed by it but just private enough. I hung my coat on the stand by the main door, keeping my scarf, hat, and gloves on my person until I tucked the latter in my bag on my way through the pub.
Thomas grinned when he saw me. “You didn’t walk here, did you?”
I held up the keys and jingled them. “Not this time.”
“Darn it.” A gentle laugh escaped him, and he stretched his foot out to push my chair. “Your seat, m’lady.”
I blinked at it. “Is that how it’s done these days? Just a knock with the toes? You don’t get up anymore?”
With a hefty sigh, Thomas made a great show of getting up, walking around the little table, and slowly sweeping the chair over the old wooden floors, turning it towards me. “Your seat, m’lady,” he repeated in a very staunch British accent.
That was saying something.
He already had quite a fancy one.
“Thank you.” I sat down and crossed my legs, setting my bag by my feet. “Start talking.”
Thomas sat back in his chair. “You don’t have anything to drink.”
“Thomas, I’m here for information, not a date. You’ve kept me waiting all day, so if you aren’t going to help me with the veil, then I’m leaving.” I waited, and when he didn’t start talking, I jerked around and got to my feet.
“Oh, sit down.”
I glared at him.
“Julian’s mum has a veil,” Thomas said.
I sat back down, putting my bag between my feet again. “She does?”
He nodded. “Mum said that it’s an old family heirloom, passed down through Julian’s line. His great-great-grandmother, I think… It was made for her wedding and destined for any female heirs, but they’ve only had boys in the family since Julian’s great-grandma.”
Frowning, I counted on my fingers as I tried to figure it out.
“Exactly.” Thomas laughed, sitting back and lacing his fingers over his stomach. “It was only ever for the female bloodline, so married-in members weren’t allowed to wear it.”
“That’s some elitist bullshit.”
“I agree. You’re either family or you’re not.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Anyway, Julian’s dad wanted Cassandra to wear it, but he was denied. He’s technically the owner now as Julian’s paternal grandparents have passed, so…”
My eyes widened. “They might let Hazel wear it.”
He slowly nodded, keeping his gaze on mine. “Mum seems to think Cassandra might have wanted to offer it to Hazel to see it finally be used, but Hazel shared her plans with her before she could mention it and she didn’t have to heart to bring it up after.”
I cupped my hands over my mouth, and my stomach flipped with both nerves and excitement. “Oh, my God. What’s the time?”
“Twenty past five.”
“I’ll be right back.” I grabbed my phone from my bag and bolted towards the door, leaving all my winterwear behind, and ran outside into the snow. I scrolled my contacts and hit ‘call’ on the house number for Julian’s parents right as the cold seeped through my jumper.
Holy shit.
It was cold.
I was an impulsive twat.
I wrapped my free arm around my waist and bounced on the balls of my feet for warmth as I listened to the droll ringing of their line in my ear.
“Hello, Carmichael residence,” a female voice said brightly.
My heart skipped. “Cassandra? It’s Sylvie.”
“Oh, hello, dear!” Her happiness radiated down the line. “How are you?”
Ugh, pleasantries. “I’m hoping I’ll be better after we’ve spoken, honestly,” I admitted. “Yourself?”
“Well, I was all right.” She laughed lightly. “What can I do for you?”
“Do you know about Hazel’s veil?”
“Of course—it’s supposed to arrive this week, isn’t it?”
“Ah, you don’t.” I blew out a breath and quickly explained what had happened.
“Oh, no! That’s a terrible shame. She must be devastated. No wonder she didn’t come to dinner tonight.”
Oh, shit.
Was I interrupting a family dinner?
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” I asked tentatively.
“Anything is better than listening to my husband and son drone on about the football,” she replied. “Except perhaps the cricket. Is there anything I can do to help you?”