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SOPHIE SAT AT the grand dining table as Fiona, Bob, Edwina, and Morgan chatted away recounting everything from police stories to when Fiona tried to tell Edwina she was pregnant. Their laughter filled the room considering its size and Sophie relished being a simple spectator.
Fiona would glance over now and again to check on her and say something thoughtful whereas Morgan riveted her gaze to the others present as if she feared what her eyes would reveal should she regard Sophie for too long. Conversely, this made Morgan ever that much more enticing until it drove her to the point of madness thus she shoved her brandy glass away and strode over to the window to remove herself from the scene entirely. Hayes were not friendly. They did not lower themselves to socialising. Hayes were cold, detached, and it would be nonsensical—no preposterous—to want to be involved.
“How do you know Sophie so well?” Bob asked like he needed the boundaries of their relationship clarified.
Fiona fell silent. Which was the first time she’d done so since she’d stepped back into the manor.
“Sophie is in charge, of course,” Edwina said in the weakest attempt at a lie.
“Okay?” Bob’s elongated reply buzzed in Sophie’s ears. “You’ve gone quiet and now Morgan is ready to pull out her PACE guidelines.”
Morgan snorted. “What are we charging her with?”
“Dunno . . . ?” Bob was teasing but there was uncertainty there.
Sophie sighed. If she didn’t respond, Fiona would remain discreet and Bob would draw inference. “Fiona worked in the house and was a maid like her mother.” She turned and fixed Bob with a “don’t push it” stare. “When someone is given the terrible task of picking up after me, the least I can do is be cordial.”
Fiona wagged her finger through the air like that had been some kind of assent. “What she’s not saying,” she said, picking up her glass of wine, “is that Henry was obsessed with me and she saved me from becoming my mother.”
Edwina flicked her gaze away.
“Lady Haye protected you from him?” Morgan leaned in, scouring over Fiona. Yes, she was hooked. How marvellous. As if she needed any more reason to ignore sense.
“Oh, Henry was a right . . .” Fiona shrugged as Edwina eyed her. “He got what he wanted a lot.”
“He was a Haye,” Sophie muttered and turned back to the window.
“He was a jerk,” Fiona muttered back. “And I’m sick of this.” She shoved her chair under. “I’m sick of everyone thinking you’re some monster.”
And she’d had too much wine.
“You protest only because you miss washing my shirts.” She nodded to Bob, unsure why she was being amiable. “I am utterly certain you married her for that skill alone.”
He chuckled. “I do her washing.”
Sophie raised an eyebrow.
Fiona brandished her wine glass, intense loyalty glinting in her eyes. “You took care of me . . . you didn’t have to. He was vile. If he hadn’t forced you to leave, I would have stayed here.”
Morgan’s hand whirred as she reached to squeeze Fiona’s arm. “But then you wouldn’t have met Bob.”
“No, but he could have been a security guard and then I could be home and have my dream man.” Fiona swayed. “I miss home and I miss you.” She nodded to Sophie with a slur. “I’d even wash your shirts again.”
“I’d be more than willing to allow that,” Sophie said and let through a smile. Fiona was always so genuine and so compassionate. “And in regard to Bob, I’m inclined to believe Morgan would be delighted to have someone useful around.”
“Useful?” Morgan laughed. “Do we have a school on the estate?”
Bob poked his tongue out at her.
“I mean it.” Fiona stamped one foot like that passionate, wonderful friend who she’d giggled with when no one was looking. “Henry forced himself on people, he hurt you countless times, he tried to kill you, and yet you say nothing to defend yourself.” She wobbled and Bob righted her. “They all think you’re a killer.”
Sophie waved it off. “I think you are intoxicated and need to sleep in your old room to settle down.”
Edwina beamed at her.
Sophie was unsure why that warranted such a smile. If anyone was going to get the good side of her, it was Fiona.
“You’re a wonderful person. You’re amazing. You stuck up for me even when he stabbed you for it.” She nodded at Morgan. “She has a scar right across her stomach.”
“Shh now.” Sophie went to her and hoisted her into her arms. “You will fill them with ideas I’m some kind of nobility.”
“You are.” Fiona clung to her and Sophie passed her to Bob.
“Edwina will show you to her room.” She turned from them as Edwina launched into fussing. “You are welcome here whenever and for however long you wish . . . it is your home.”
Bob nodded and took a now sobbing Fiona from the room, followed by Edwina.
Sophie pursed her lips, sensing Morgan’s gaze on her. “Are you not supposed to be avoiding me?”
“If I question her, will I get more truth?” Morgan folded her arms, annoyance in her eyes. “Will she tell me lies like you?”
Sophie growled and leaned onto the table. “Be careful of your tone.”
“No.” Morgan glared back at her. “You can growl and bark all you like but I’ve seen nothing to challenge Fiona’s viewpoint of you. I see a beautiful woman who cares.”
“Then you are a fool.” Her voice roared back off the walls and she flipped the glasses off the table. They smashed against the floor.
“I’m not the one hiding,” Morgan yelled back at her. “I’m not the one pretending that I’m a killer so I don’t have to admit I’m human.”
Edwina was at the door. Yes, who yelled at a Haye?
“Pretence?” Sophie flicked more glasses from the table, anger raging through her. “How dare you talk to me in this manner.”
“Someone has to because you’re a complete idiot.” Morgan slammed both hands to the table, eyes fiery, mouth set, chin out in defiance. “We want to help you, woman, listen to reason.”
Sophie grabbed her by the scruff and dragged her over the table. “What did you say?”
“I care. We care. Listen to reason.” Morgan broke her grip and glared up at her. “I care. I trust you. Get that through your thick skull.” She gripped Sophie’s face. “I. Trust. You.”
“Fool!” Sophie shoved her back.
“Back at you,” Morgan snapped with no fear in her eyes at all.
Sophie turned and stormed past Edwina and up the stairs to her room. How dare Morgan do that? She should dismiss her, reprimand her. She should exile her from the estate. Yes. She slammed her door shut. How dare Morgan care? How dare she walk into the manor and implant herself on it, implant herself in every aspect of it, implant her infernal smile in Sophie’s mind?
“Fool,” she shot at the mirror then slumped onto her bed. Morgan trusted her and cared. She really did care. How did one remain aloof with that?