The wedding. She couldn’t put it off any longer. There was no way Henry would change his mind. She had to call Victoria. Now. Because she couldn’t keep such a monumental secret from her best friend any longer and she had to do it before she changed her mind. It was tearing her up inside, but she couldn’t put it off.

Don’t pick up. Don’t pick up.

But the moment the phone call rang through, Lily couldn’t stop herself.

‘He’s horrible, V. Just horrible!’

‘Who is, Lils?’ demanded Victoria, just a slight edge of concern in her voice.

‘Not Oliver,’ Lily replied, knowing her friend was totally loved up and very much in the everything’s-about-my-fiancé mode. ‘Henry,’ she clarified.

‘Oh. Little Lord Fauntleroy?’

‘Yes. No. We can’t keep calling him that, V,’ she said on a groan.

‘Why?’

‘Because it makes him sound boyish and harmless. And Henry Hawkesbury is …’ Tall, delicious, hot? Lily nearly stopped in her tracks, her grip on the centre of the handlebars wobbling a little. Where had that come from?

‘Horrible?’ Victoria asked.

‘Yes,’ she said as much to her friend as herself as she resumed her return to the restaurant. ‘Horrible.’

‘Do you want a Lost Hours? Should we call in the girls?’

God no, Lily thought. Although she could do with their support, this was something she had to do herself. Victoria was going to be devastated. She heard a rustling in the background and imagined her best friend shifting bolts of fabric and designs. At this time on a Sunday, she’d probably be in her new studio working on her beautiful dresses. She imagined Victoria’s long glossy dark hair falling over her shoulder as she sat down at her desk and leaned a head on her palm to focus on their conversation.

‘Lils? You still there?’

‘Yes, I am. And no, don’t worry about trying to get the girls. I can’t work out the time differences anyway.’

‘You know that wouldn’t matter,’ Victoria answered.

‘Honestly, it’s OK,’ she replied, firmly putting aside her doubts. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth and—

‘How’s he doing, after the funeral?’ Victoria asked accidentally interrupting.

Lily’s mind switched back to Henry, half miserable and half thankful for the reprieve. ‘I couldn’t tell you. He was too busy trying to kick me off the estate. I’m surprised he didn’t ask for my keys back.’

‘Your keys? Why would he …’ She heard Victoria sigh. ‘He doesn’t know.’

‘No. How could he, V? He’s had nothing to do with his father for nearly ten years.’

‘Oh, honey. The estate has been such a big part of your life. I’m still … disappointed that Blake didn’t leave some kind of directive in his will.’

‘It’s not about that, V,’ Lily replied. It really wasn’t.