“Well, she would know better than anyone.” He jumped up from bed and strode to the bathroom. “The office first, then we’ll go.”
Daisy left his room, trudging along the hallway. She should be happy that he agreed. She should be happy that he was going to spend the day with her.
But she wasn’t.
Because all she could think about was the look on his face when he learned about Kate’s concern for him. Worse than that, she didn’t want to think about how much it hurt her heart to see it.
Sebastian ran a critical eye over Daisy as they waited for his driver. She wore one of her usual cardigans and a pair of dark jeans with hot pink flats that matched the chopsticks in her hair. Lovely, but not very practical for springtime English weather.
“Would you stop staring at me?” she asked, her brow wrinkling.
“I’m not staring.” She gave him a look. “Okay, so I am—er, was staring. I’m actually concerned about how warm you’ll be. Did you pack any jumpers?”
“I haven’t worn one of those since I was eight,” she said. “And if you think I’ll be too cold wearing jeans, then what in the world would make you think a dress could keep me warm?”
“A jumper is a sweater,” he said on a grin.
“Really?” Her face flushed. “Ooooh, so that’s what Ron’s mother made Harry. All this time I thought the woman had made him a dress for school.”
“Are you serious?”
She shrugged. “Foreign country, foreign-to-me customs. Plus, the book is fantasy. People can wear whatever they want in those.”
Yeah, and his fantasy would be to see her wearing nothing but the jewels that belonged to the future Countess of Spenserfield. “Didn’t you see the films? That explained what a jumper was.”
“No, I’m a purist. Usually when books become movies, they—” her eyes narrowed. “How would you know what was in the movies?”
Because his brother had been in the first two, as an extra, and he’d always made a point to watch every film Christian had been in, no matter how small the roll. However, watching the rest of the films had been completely voluntary. “I might be a fan.”
She grinned. “Uh-huh. Bet you know lots of trivia and where everything was filmed around here, more than the website’s tour.”
Her bet would be correct. He grimaced. Time to change the subject. “When I’m done at the office we can pop down to High Street and find a coat for you.”
“Do you mean coat coat or coat as in a pot holder?”
“A coat’s a coat, Daisy.”
“Sure it is.” She winked at him, buoying his general outlook for the day.
He looked forward to spending time with her, all day, every day she was here. Time was fleeting, only two weeks here and then… He didn’t know what exactly. Go back to Holland Springs with her or stay here, without her?
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at it. Liam. Something had to be wrong. “I need to take this. Do you mind?”
“Go right ahead and bully all the world leaders you want, but can you start with the guy in North Korea, first?”
“I’ll get right on that,” he said, answering the call and walking a few feet away. “What’s the problem?”
“Seems those pesky pictures of your brother and his night of revelry have resurfaced, this time with irrefutable proof it’s him and not you,” Liam said. “Someone posted the YouTube video of you speaking at Drayton’s Charity event on the night in question.”
Son of a bitch. Christian had finally made headway with his reputation, with everything he’d worked so hard for, and had been forgiven by those who had accused him of remaining the cocked-up, playboy who only cared about himself. “I’ll have James issue another statement—”
“Do you really think the Board need be reminded of this incident?”
Jesus Christ, could his situation get any worse? No good deed ever went unpunished. “Of course I don’t, but hanging my brother out to dry isn’t an option.”
Liam let out a harsh breath. “Figure out what’s more important to you—Romanov Industries or your family.”
His family? “Which side—my mother’s, who loathes my very sight, or my father’s, who given the choice between murdering me or inviting me to dinner, would choose blowing my fucking head off every time?” All because he’d cut ties with them. Bloody Russian Mafia.
“Your call, mate,” Liam said calmly. He hadn’t become Vice President of Romanov Industries by staying in the dark, no matter how embarrassing it was for Sebastian’s best mate to learn all his family’s dark sins.
“I’ll let you know.” He ended their call, jaw clenching. There was nothing he’d like more to do than smash his damn phone against the wall, or go a few rounds with Ivan.
“Your driver’s here, Sebastian,” Daisy said, placing a hand on his arm. Concern was plainly written on her face. “What do you want to do?”
He wanted to disappear again, to hide out in a place no one would ever accuse him of going. But he couldn’t. He had his brother to look out for, a sister-in-law, and his damnable cousin, Alexander.
And now he had Daisy to protect, for the rest of her life. She’d never know, of course, but he would do it. Perhaps he should have explained that bit of his family’s business dealings to her. Briefly, he closed his eyes and slid the phone back into his pocket. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
“We don’t have to go sightseeing,” she said. “I’ll go by myself, or take Ivan the Terrible with me.”
Trust her to lighten his mood, no matter what. “You really shouldn’t call him that.”
“But it’s his pro-wrestling name.”
“Former pro-wrestling name.”
She grinned. “He still wrestles on his days off.”
“Forget about the driver, darling.” Her face fell and he caressed her cheek. “We’re walking.”
Her enchanting smile returned as he grabbed an umbrella and her hand. “Yay! Does this mean you’re open to wearing matching Union Jack t-shirts?”
“No.” He opened the door, gesturing for her to go first. “And don’t even think about pouting or batting your lashes at me.”
“Matching hats?”
Oh, Good God. “No.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “Matching jumpers?”
“Daisy.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
They stepped out onto the street and he breathed deeply, then checked behind him. Boris and Ivan followed at a discreet distance. “With my sense of humor.”
“Looks like I got my work cut out, then.” She tugged on his hand. “Hurry up, I want to hear the song about the lemons at the church.”
He stopped, right in the middle of the sidewalk, and took her in his arms. “Daisy, there’s no rush.”
“But I agreed to a half day.” She tilted her head to one side, her brows drawing together. “And you didn’t call in sick.”
“I’m not calling in at all.” He dipped his head, kissing her softly. Looking into her hazel eyes, he said, “Today…my time belongs to you.”
“That’s such a nice English saying,” she whispered.
“It’s not an—” He clamped his jaw shut before he could finish his sentence. He’d nearly mucked up their day. Tell her, the very standup part of him said. Later, the monster inside of him roared.
“It’s a very lovely saying,” he agreed as they linked arms.
Daisy gazed wide-eyed and a little terrified at the London Eye. She wanted to experience everything of London, but that Ferris wheel made her knees shake.
“Last stop,” Sebastian said, sliding his phone in his pocket.
She opened her mouth to tell him that she really, really didn’t want to go on The Eye, but he stopped her with an engaging smile and hands held up in surrender.
“I know you didn’t want the earl’s tour of London or even the Sebastian Romanov’s tour, but I couldn’t help it. I’ve arranged a private capsule for us to have Afternoon Tea. They had one for couples in love, but I thought it a bit much,” he said, looking so pleased with himself she didn’t have the heart to tell him no. He held out his hand. “Shall we?”
Lacing her fingers through his, she smiled and then began to pray—silently—for courage and not to pass out. “How long is the ride?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Her vision swam as they bypassed a line of tourist waiting in line for tickets. She almost stumbled. “That long?”
“Seems rather short to me.”
It would seem like a million years to her. Heights terrified her. Planes were necessary evils and only by taking something before she got on, so she could fall asleep, helped her not panic.
They entered the capsule and a spread fit for the Queen’s Afternoon Tea greeted them. In the middle of the room, a long table was covered with a white cloth. Plates of sandwiches, desserts, and a delicate tea service sat on top of that and in the center was a huge bouquet of flowers. All her favorites.
She should enjoy this. She wanted to enjoy this. Come hell or high altitudes, she would enjoy this.
“What about Boris and Ivan? Don’t they want some tea and crumpets? Or is vodka and caviar more their thing?” she asked, trying to joke around. “Is there vodka for us?”
“I had entertained the thought of Champagne, but thought you’d like this more. In any case, Boris is in the capsule behind us and Ivan is in the one in front of us.” Sebastian wiggled his brows. “It’s only the two of us. I declined being attended by servers or a host.”
Oh goody. He’d be the only one to see her lose her ever-loving mind.
The door closed behind them. Her heart sped up. She wanted to drop to the floor and crawl to the nearest chair. She turned to face the stunning view of the city.
Sebastian joined her. “Just wait until we get to the top.”
The Ferris wheel began to move. “Oh God,” she croaked, her arm shooting out to find the wall…something to keep her upright. Finding nothing, she sort of half-crumpled, half-slid to the floor and pressed her fingertips to her eyes, breathing deeply.
“Daisy.” She felt Sebastian sit beside her. “Are you all right?”
“No,” she said on a sniff and looked up at him. Compassion on his face. “I’m scared of heights, but I didn’t want to ruin your surprise.”
“You should have told me anyway.” He stroked her hair, taking out the chopsticks and placing them on the floor. “I’m not too fond of confined spaces, really. This capsule was pushing it.”
“You’re not? It is?” She searched his face. “Why not?”
Soft compassion melted away, leaving nothing behind. His pale eyes were hard and his mouth drawn tight. For long minutes, he said nothing, then, “My father’s favorite punishment was to lock me in a cupboard under the servants’ stairs for hours at a time.”
Bile rose in her throat. Locked him up, for hours at a time? “Favorite?” She didn’t want to know this. She didn’t have a right to know this.
“Achieving perfection comes at a high price.”
“There’s no such thing as perfection, not really.” Reasonable people knew this. His father should have known this. His father should have been put in jail.
“The punishment must fit the crime, or in my case, receiving a B instead of an A. Or playing a joke on him. Vladimir was a remarkably inventive man when it came to punishments,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard her. More likely, he didn’t believe her. “And God help you if you showed the slightest hint of weakness when it was meted out.”
“What about your brother?”
“Christian had it much worse.”
Worse? “Oh, I—”
“After our mother left us, Vladimir ignored him. It was as though Christian didn’t exist. Given the choice, I’d think he would have picked the cupboard, because in some fucked-up way, it meant Vladimir actually cared.” He was matter-of-fact while saying this, like he was relaying the evening news to her.
Tears pricked at her eyes and gathered in her throat. She slowly reached out to touch his face, the rough stubble of his five o’clock shadow tickling the tips of her fingers. “I’m sorry he hurt you and your brother. His job was to protect. People with power should always choose to protect the ones without it.”
“I’m nothing like my father,” he said fiercely. “Nothing.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” she insisted, turning his face to hers. “You’re one of the most compassionate people I know.” Tears escaped, slipping down her cheek.
“Don’t cry, Daisy.” He wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb. “It’s in the past.”
She tried to take a deep breath, but it ended up being shallow and shaky. “I don’t think it is.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing. “Vladimir fucked me up good, huh?”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, she sat there with him, never taking her eyes off his face as she caressed him. Finally his eyes opened, blue eyes glittering with an emotion she couldn’t define. Or maybe she was too scared to name.
He smiled tightly, and then kissed her forehead. “You did it.”