Cheating the system, p.9
Cheating the System, page 9
‘And that’s fine; we had the same growing up. But they need to be told the boundaries you have, else they can’t do their jobs.’
‘Don’t call the staff ‘they’ it sounds so…’
‘Hierarchical?’
‘Snobbish.’
Hattie rolled her eyes. ‘Never thought of you as a socialist.’
‘Well, now I’ve lost my appetite,’ he joked, shoving a forkful of everything into his mouth.
She sighed in playful exasperation and lifted her teacup to her lips to hide the smile that wanted to spread across her face. This was surprisingly nice—and easy. When she wasn’t second guessing his every word or wondering what his motivation was, it was as easy to talk to him as it had always been.
‘You never answered my question last night,’ Roman said before taking a sip of his juice. Hattie quickly replayed the conversations as best she could, trying to filter out her heated words. What had he asked specifically?
‘What did you mean by a Cormac situation?’ he supplied. ‘Did you mean him being stabbed in that home invasion? I’m assuming that it wasn’t just a home invasion then?’
‘Oh!’ she breathed. Damn, she should have known he’d have picked up on that. ‘No, it wasn’t,’ she admitted and explained how O’Malley had paid a group to break into Victoria’s home, including Ben Fuller, Victoria’s worst stalker, who had not long been released from psychiatric care. The man’s sense of reality had been twisted by O’Malley until he was once again a danger to her sister. Luckily, Cormac had literally stepped in to save the day.
‘That poor bloke,’ Roman said in amazement as she finished the tale. ‘Fancy getting your head on right and then having someone come along and screw it all up again. I can’t imagine thinking like that, but it must be scary.’
Hattie nodded; Ben Fuller’s tale was indeed a sad one.
‘You don’t have any stalkers, do you?’ he said suddenly, dropping his silverware as he turned his attention on her. She shook her head, a gentle smile touching her lips at his genuine concern.
‘No, of the four of us, only Victoria has suffered that fate, as far as I’m aware. I think Alexi’s had a few online incidents, but nothing major.’
Roman let out a rush of relieved breath. ‘Good to know.’ But then he refocused on her, that damn intensity back in his eyes as he took her in. ‘But that’s not what you meant, is it? When you said a Cormac situation, you weren’t referring to me being attacked; you’d have likened that to Jensen…’
Hattie sighed. He was bloody right, of course.
‘Ugh,’ she said, dropping her head back between her shoulders and staring up at the ceiling again. ‘I really need to stop letting my emotions get the best of me,’ she admitted. ‘I should have pulled Marcus aside for that.’ She sighed as she raised her head again and told him the rest of Cormac’s story. How he’d agreed to work with O’Malley and then reneged on the whole thing, essentially causing the very problems he and Victoria had faced that fateful night.
‘…So, I don’t want to sit and wonder if you’re really part of the scheme with O’Malley or not.’
Roman blinked as he processed everything she’d told him. ‘Is that why… Is that why you stayed away from me this weekend?’
Hattie bit her lip. It would be so easy to say yes, to brush all her feelings under the carpet and leave them there. But her mouth clearly didn’t agree with that sentiment.
‘Partly,’ she admitted, before ducking her head slightly, focusing on the pattern on her now empty plate. Her stomach protested a little, but she wasn’t sure if that was nerves at Roman asking more questions than she was willing to answer or the queasy feeling she’d been suffering for the last couple of days that she was putting down to morning sickness.
But Roman didn’t ask her to expand; instead, he threw his napkin on top of his plate and turned to her. His eyes had that same soul searing look in them that always seemed to strip her bare.
‘Henrietta, I promise you, here and now’—he reached out to take her hand in his, but stopped a hair’s width from her fingers, before pulling back again—‘that everything I have said about O’Malley is the truth. I am not now, nor have I ever been working with him. I have never met the man beyond our first introduction, which was merely a Roman this is Conner, Conner this is Roman, kind of thing. But I immediately didn’t like him and excused myself. He has tried, and continues to do try, to get my attention at events, but I always, always walk away. I never liked what I heard about him.
‘I’ve told you, I will never cheat on you’—he held up his hand as she made to speak, and she quickly sunk her teeth back into her lip—‘and I want to extend that promise; I will never betray you. I will never, ever do anything that I know could lead you to being harmed in some way, shape, or form, either physically or emotionally.’
Still biting her lip as she battled the notion of wanting to scoff at his words and throw her arms around him at their sentiment, she simply chose to nod her understanding instead.
‘Well,’ Roman said a little too brightly when she failed to respond to him. ‘I was going to go and look around the estate. What do you have planned?’
Nothing. She had absolutely nothing planned. She had a wedding to sort, a household to run, and no clue where to begin. She’d hidden herself away in various nooks and crannies over the weekend, avoiding Roman and any and all responsibility.
The house could wait, she reasoned, but she really should get started on the wedding considering it was less than a month away and they still had to pick out a cake, decide on a colour scheme, go clothes shopping, sort out the invite list and probably a million more things…
But instead of picking one—or all—of those things, she simply said. ‘Nothing. Would you like some company?’
Roman’s smile told her she’d made the right choice.
Chapter Five
Hattie looked at her wardrobe in despair. She had absolutely nothing suitable for a walk around the grounds. She should have remembered how much cooler it was in Tolston Wells than in Haleton and Wessex, despite the Spring creeping in. It was so easy to forget they were nestled at the bottom of the mountain range when Merryweather always had the log fires stoked, keeping the rooms a comfortable temperature. She’d need to get a better wardrobe if they were going to be here too long. Mind, she’d have to start considering maternity wear soon. The thought made her lip curl in disgust. She was going to get fat and her already ample chest was going to be enormous! Dammit, she was going to get stretch marks and she was sure she’d read somewhere that her belly button would go from an innie to an outie.
Her eyes widened as she recalled what Roman had said the other night; if it did turn out she was carrying twins, would her stomach hold together if her navel became an outie? Her mind became slightly panic stricken at the image of her belly button suddenly untwisting and her stomach falling apart. She slapped her hand over her mouth and bolted to the toilet, reaching it just in time to deposit her breakfast.
‘That’s it, I’m sticking to porridge of a morning,’ she moaned, flushing the toilet. ‘It’s got to taste the same coming up as going down.’
‘Are you okay, ma’am?’ Chloe’s voice asked from the other side of the bathroom door. Was the girl stalking her? That was it! She was getting on the phone to Victoria this evening. She needed space and privacy, and the whole point of having Victoria’s minions here was to supposedly give her that.
‘Perfectly normal for a pregnant woman,’ she called back through gritted teeth before rinsing her mouth out.
‘Yes, ma’am, my sister had a wee one last year,’ Chloe told her as she came out of the en suite. ‘It’s why I didn’t go into the palace when I finished my training, I had to help her. The dad, well, he wasn’t up to much, as Mum says. Better off without him than with.’
Hattie’s eyes widened as she stepped in front of the maid. ‘Really?’ she asked dumbfounded. ‘Is she… How is she coping?’ The idea she could one day be left holding the baby if Roman got bored made the question fall from her lips.
Chloe’s smile lit up the room, Hattie had never seen such a genuine grin from the girl before. ‘She’s doing amazing. I’ve never been prouder of her. I hope she gets her SEC in the summer and—’
‘Her SEC? How old is she?’
‘She’s seventeen, ma’am.’ The nervous lilt was back in Chloe’s voice. Poor thing probably thought Hattie was going to start screaming the place down about underage sex and children out of wedlock. The idea was ludicrous when she was not only pregnant and unmarried herself, but secretly carrying another man’s child. However, Hattie couldn’t help her brows from raising ever so slightly.
She wasn’t judging the girl, but the idea of being so young and all alone… She was dying to ask what had happened to the father, but kept her mouth closed. That wasn’t her business to pry into.
‘What does she plan to do afterwards?’ she asked instead as she moved back to her wardrobe and had another rifle through. She was sure she’d bought at least one or two sweaters, a cardigan, or something she could wear on a cooler day.
‘She’s already got an apprentice set up.’ She could hear the pride in Chloe’s voice, but there was still a nervousness back in her tone. ‘She’s going to be working in the clerical office at Snape Enterprises.’
Hattie stopped her rummaging and glanced over her shoulder at the girl. ‘Did Victoria help her get it?’ she asked, frowning. That wasn’t very fair of Victoria if she did. The company could be sold at any point and that might mean redundancies.
‘No, no, ma’am! Alexis got it all on her own. I never once mentioned it to Lady Blake! I promise. She had far too much going on with Lord Blake, to be helping the likes of me.’
Hattie couldn’t help the snort that seemed to just fall from her whenever anyone mentioned Cormac’s new title. The idea of him becoming part of nobility—no matter how low—just tickled her. Maybe it was the idea of knowing that it must have hurt Dick so much to welcome a stripper onto the lowest step of the royal ladder. She’d have loved to have been a fly on the wall of Buckingham House in the UK when that news story broke.
‘Alexis? She’s not an Alexandra too, is she?’
‘No, my lady, Mum just liked the TV show Dynasty when she was growing up.’
Hattie frowned as she stood up. She’d never seen the show, but of course she knew of the famous role of Dame Joan Collins. She’d even seen the infamous cat fight from the show on the internet at some point.
‘Your mum named her after the show’s super bitch?’
A flush filled Chloe’s cheeks, making her freckles stand out all the more.
‘All my siblings are called after the characters. I’m the only one who isn’t—I’m named after my nana.’
‘Oh,’ said Hattie as she glanced around the mess she’d made. ‘Chloe, I could have sworn I had a couple of pullovers, but I don’t.’ She waited for the girl’s response, hoping she might suggest something to help, but the girl suddenly turned quiet. ‘I guess I thought I was going to stay up north when I reinvested in my wardrobe.’ She glanced out of the corner of her eye towards the suddenly silent maid, who was outright fidgeting with her apron. ‘Any ideas what I can do, Roman’s waiting for me…’ She held up her hands as she turned to Chloe. Perhaps the girl would suggest loaning her something from her own wardrobe. She looked a size bigger than Hattie, but Hattie’s boobs would ensure it was well filled.
Chloe took a deep breath, her eyes focused firmly on the floor before she spoke. ‘Perhaps… Perhaps, my lady,’ she began stuttering slightly. ‘Mr Tyrrell would be able to loan you a sweater or a cardi? I’m sure his would be plenty warm.’
Hattie’s mouth fell open at the unexpectedness of the maid’s suggestion. Wrap herself up in Roman’s clothes? Just casually knock on his door, waltz right on in and grab a jumper from his clothes rails? Oh no. That was crossing so many lines.
‘I don’t think that’s appropriate.’ She shook her head firmly. ‘Maybe you have something that would fit me?’ Hattie watched, her curiosity with the girl growing even more as Chloe’s face turned an ugly shade of puce. She shook her head so quickly and violently, Hattie worried it might come off.
Crap, I’ve broken her! she thought. Victoria’s going to kill me!
‘I— I don’t have anything that would work, ma’am,’ she said, her voice far higher than normal. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She sounded on the verge of tears and Hattie quickly placated her.’
‘Oh, it’s okay, I didn’t think. You probably didn’t get enough notice to pack everything. I bet you didn’t even realise you were going to be here so long. The girl kept bobbing her head as if agreeing with her. Hattie wanted to kick herself as the thought struck her that maybe the girl didn’t own a lot of things, maybe Chloe was sending money home to her sister rather than blowing it on clothes as she liked to.
Fuck’s sake! she cursed herself. She really needed to start looking beyond the end of her nose.
‘We can ask, Mr Tyrrell,’ she added quickly. ‘You’re right, his would probably be perfect, and what’s the shame in wearing your betrothed’s clothes, eh? Men are always complaining of girlfriends stealing their favourite warm tops, right?’
Chloe nodded her agreement, but still looked on the verge of tears.
Hattie took a deep breath. She felt utterly rotten for what she was about to do, but she just couldn’t face the idea of doing it herself.
‘Would you pop along and ask him for me, please?’
Chloe nodded again. ‘Of course, ma’am,’ she said, so softly Hattie almost didn’t hear.
When the door closed behind the girl, Hattie let out of a cry of frustrated anguish before falling face first onto her bed.
The knock on the door made Roman jump from the bed. He felt as giddy as he had all those years ago whenever he returned to the university and he knew she’d come by his room.
He took a deep breath, fought off the urge to fling the door open and instead slowly opened it with what he hoped was a curious look on his face.
‘Yes— Oh.’ His face fell with disappointment when he saw Chloe, clearly filled with anxiety, stood where he’d expected Hattie to be.
‘I’m so sorry, sir,’ Chloe said in a rush of breath. ‘But I’m afraid that Lady Henrietta sent me to ask if you might have a pullover she could borrow.’
Roman rolled his eyes. ‘Chloe, you don’t need to be so formal. I know why you’re here, remember? We planned this. Come on, I’ll get the top.’ He swung the door wide open and grabbed the creamy coloured, heavy knit sweater he’d already picked out for her.
‘Does she suspect you swiped the two she had?’ he asked as he turned back to the girl, expecting her to be within reach. Instead, she stood within the door’s frame, wringing her fingers, and looking two seconds away from collapsing. He raised a brow at her in question.
‘No, sir,’ she quickly answered. ‘And I didn’t take them, sir, I just hid them in the wrong drawers.’
‘I didn’t mean— You know what, doesn’t matter.’ He shoved the sweater at her, and she practically snatched it from him, holding the thick cashmere to her chest as if it could somehow protect her from the world. ‘Chloe, you’ve done a good job,’ he told her, hoping he looked earnest enough.
The girl glanced at the garment before turning her green eyes his way again. She rolled her lips into a thin, white line before nodding and scurrying away.
Roman sighed as he returned to the room, grabbed his walking boots, and shoved his feet into them before heading out, hoping upon hope that his idea worked.
Roman had thought he knew what he was doing when he’d set his plan in motion. He’d seen the way she’d breathed in deeply whenever he got too close, how her nose lifted ever so slightly to take in the only scent he’d worn since she’d given it to him all those years ago. He’d associated it with her and always felt like he was wearing a part of Hattie whenever he got ready.
Originally, she’d bought just the aftershave, but he’d later found the whole range, including the showering gels and soaps. The lengths of his showers had rather increased after that.
Fiona had tried to give him a new brand each and every birthday and Christmas, but Roman always ended up giving it away to an up-and-coming member of staff, or allowing his secretary, Sue, to take it for her husband. He was ashamed to admit it, but he’d got a bit of a sick and twisted pleasure from watching Fi’s face fall when she’d greet him and still smell Hattie’s woodsy scent all over him.
He remembered when Hattie had first presented him her gift their second Christmas at Guildford, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. They hadn’t said they were going to exchange anything, so he’d been happy to know he could freely give her the stationery set he’d bought without looking like an overeager moron. But he probably appeared like a complete love-struck fool a few seconds later when she beamed up at him, her eyes alight with sheer joy, before throwing her arms around him and squeezing him tight.
A small smile touched his lips at the memory of that morning. Bitter-sweet as they prepared to leave for the Christmas break; saddened to be parting yet delighted at the unexpected bounty they left with.
It had taken him a while to get used to the rather grown-up scent, his father mocking him every time he smelt it clinging to Roman’s skin and telling him if he was going to start wearing perfume, to get one people could recognise. Needless to say, such a reaction had initially put him off using Hattie’s gift. But upon their return to the halls, every time she smelt it on him, her smile lit up the room—and his being—told him how nice it was, that it was so perfectly him. He also loved that she became more cuddly, more tactile on the days he’d remembered to spray it on himself.
He quickly learnt never to leave his room without wearing it.
So, his idea was simple; make Hattie wear something of his sprayed with the aftershave that had once turned her into a cuddly, hands-on friend, and perhaps he could work around her no touching rule by making her touch him.
