Broken Waves by Aitana Moore

Author:Aitana Moore [Moore, Aitana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AKM Books
Published: 2019-08-04T16:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

As he chatted with Caitlin on the phone, James mouthed an apology. His sister was full of ideas for her birthday party and he had to take notes. Lee went downstairs after Mrs. Taylor, who had procured the Wellingtons and found her a pair of riding boots as well.

"I'll just send them to the stables," Mrs. Taylor said. "In case you feel like riding.”

There was going to be a lot of riding, Lee supposed. James loved horses and wouldn’t rest until she was comfortable on a saddle. Lee thanked Mrs. Taylor and wandered to the right of the staircase. She passed a red drawing room with a lavish carpet. Another room was a library, with books from floor to ceiling and carved wooden ladders. The last room was turquoise. It was larger than the peacock room and there was a grand piano in it — nothing less than a Steinway.

The sofas were comfortable and worn. There was a side table with photographs showing generations of the St. Bryce family, starting in the mid-1800s. Lee stopped before the portrait of a couple sitting with a baby swaddled in expensive lace and a dark-haired boy behind them. The boy was James. The insolence in his gaze and the slightly mocking set of his mouth were there, although Lee knew how quickly they could turn to real laughter. It was surprising to see what a mixture he was of his parents: tall and dark like the father, but with the mother’s almond-shaped blue eyes and high cheekbones. She had expected James to be different from them in appearance as well as personality.

At the end of the row of frames, there was Mia again. This time she and James were coming out of the church where they had just become husband and wife. Mia looked like a fairy-tale princess in a cloud of white veil, with James’ arm around her waist. They laughed at the shower of rice falling on them. It was a spontaneous moment, very different than the posed wedding photos of previous St. Bryces.

The happiness in the image hurt Lee, but she reminded herself that she was the intruder, not Mia. The poor dead woman had been there before her.

Lee studied the lustrous oil paintings in the room. What did she have to do with people who had been rich for a thousand years? Her own father’s fortune and family history, which had been the stuff of fantasy when she was little, were almost a joke in comparison to James’.

The last portrait on the wall was of Mia again, and it wasn't a painting but another photograph. She was half naked, her breasts precariously covered by her long hair. Mia had had the same natural style as Lee, when Lee wasn’t pretending to be someone else.

Moving to the piano, she tried a few keys. What this English house needed was some good Southern music. Her fingers started playing St. James' Infirmary as she sang softly, “Let her go, let her go, God bless her, wherever she may be .

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