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London greets us with its typical chilly, raining and grey weather as Aaliya and I make our way to the front of the assembled congregation. I cast a quick glance to see Mike following us close behind. We’ve only just landed in London a few hours ago and we’ve barely had time to settle Rian at the London mansion with Meredith and Jasmine who chose to return with us, offering her unwavering support during the next few days as we try and figure out a solution to find the person responsible for all the attacks.
A sea of people, all attired in black, surrounds us, all huddling under black umbrellas as the rain pelts down in sheets, the weather reflecting the solemn ambience of the funeral.
I raise my umbrella higher to shield Aaliya as best as I can as we come to stand beside my mother. She turns to look at me and gives me a stiff nod and then her gaze drifts past me to Aaliya and her expression tightens.
She leans forward and whispers in my ear, “How dare you bring that girl here?”
My head snaps to her. “Are we going to do this right now?”
She shakes her head slowly before facing straight ahead again.
“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust...”
The priest continues the burial service for Celia and I glance through the assembled people, most of whom are Celia’s friends and family. I recognize her parents, Lord and Lady Parker, standing on the other side of my mother. Celia’s friend Samantha and her husband Andrew Montgomery stand across us with Celia’s other two close friends standing beside them.
Sensing a presence behind me, I quickly turn and see Gabe and Jonathan take up positions behind my back. They give me a quick nod and I focus on the burial ceremony. Aaliya’s hand tightens around my arm as the coffin carrying Celia is lowered to the ground.
Once the ceremony is over, we all head back to our cars to attend the wake organized by Celia’s parents in their home, the place where Celia was shot dead.
Reporters surround us from all directions, screaming questions as soon as Aaliya and I step out of our car into the pounding rain. Gabe’s car stops behind us and Jonathan and he climb out and we all rush inside the townhouse, with Mike following right behind Aaliya and me. His presence is a source of comfort because we have to be absolutely cautious in this next phase of our plan.
All eyes turn on our little group as we make our way inside the house towards where Celia’s parents are standing, my mother right beside them.
Next to me, I can feel the tension rolling out of Aaliya and I squeeze her hand that is clutching my arm as we advance forward.
“Am I the only one who finds having a wake in the same place Celia died a tad bit eerie?” Aaliya whispers as we enter the living room.
“She was found here in this very room,” Jonathan mentions from Aaliya’s side.
She gives him a sidelong glance. “Thanks. I didn’t need to know that macabre detail. Now I’m really spooked.”
“Imagine her ghost hovering around here somewhere, watching everything,” Jonathan continues, lowering his voice. Aaliya shudders and he twitches his eyebrows at her. “Oh, she’d definitely be giving you, Aaliya, the stink eye. Imagine that!”
When another shiver racks through Aaliya, I glare at Jonathan over the top of her head.
“What? I’m just trying to lighten her up,” he intones in his usual mischievous way.
Ignoring him, I address Aaliya. Her hand has tightened further around my arm.
“In and out, Aaliya,” I say in her ear. “We just offer them condolence and we’re out.”
Her dark eyes meet mine and she lowers her chin. “I’ll be fine. I can do this.”
Of course, she can. I don’t doubt her at all. She’s a fighter and a lioness. She’s well aware she may face censure from my mother, Celia’s friends and perhaps even Celia’s parents. But she insisted upon showing a joint appearance.
Us arriving together at Celia’s funeral and wake is our first appearance out in public as a couple, barring the royal wedding. But though we left together from there, we’d arrived separately. Aaliya had entered with Jonathan while I had gone there with my mother and Celia. And of course, after Aaliya had addressed the reporters while we were leaving, I’d announced her to the world as my wife and ever since that day we’d disappeared from the social circles.
We reach Celia’s parents and offer them our condolences. I spend a few minutes making small talk with them before we stand in front of my mother. She, as usual, refuses to acknowledge Aaliya, who doesn’t seem affected in the least.
Aaliya simply raises her nose up in the air and stands beside me with a complete air of nonchalance, her bearing regal, her poise ingrained, looking every inch a perfect duchess. I run a quick eye down her. Dressed in an ankle length black dress, black heels, black gloves and a matching net fascinator covering the top part of her face, she is perfect in very way.
“Damien,” my mother’s hushed whisper, reaches my ears and I focus on her.
“Mother, hope you are coping well.”
“As well as I can, considering everything.” She stares at me for a moment, then at Aaliya who is not looking at her at all.
The moment she faces me again, I give her a pointed look. “We need to talk, Mother, about that truth you’ve been hiding for so long”
Something akin to fear crosses her face, but she masks it to say, “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
My God. She knows exactly what I’m talking about and yet she persists in behaving selfish. Besides, if she realizes that I’m only guessing what that is then I may never know the truth and right now, I’m running short of time. I need my memory back and maybe once she confirms what I already suspect is the truth, it may clear a bit of the fog from my mind and give me more clarity. Thus, I use the only weapon I have against her at my disposal, one that I never wanted to use, but she’s left me no choice now.
“I’m well aware that you have another house to live in. I’m also aware of the conditions of father’s will, which stipulate that his heir, namely me, has control of all the money he left to you. So, do you really want to pretend that we have nothing to talk about?”
She pales before my eyes and clasps my arm, touching me for the first time in as long as I can remember. She casts a quick glance at Celia’s parents before lowering her voice.
“Not here, please,” she pleads and I’m almost convinced that my suspicions on what she’s kept hidden maybe true.
My jaw hardens. “Meet me tomorrow at the London mansion late in the evening, around seven. We will talk then.”
I leave her behind and gripping Aaliya’s elbow, I guide her forward. We’ve done what we came for and now we need to leave.
