A while later, face scrubbed of make-up, pyjamas on and curled up on the bed, Dory finished her book and tossed her e-reader aside. Clearly, Tyler hadn’t understood the meaningful look. Again.
And she still really wanted cake.
She should get some sleep.
Snuggling down under the absurdly comfortable duvet, Dory closed her eyes. Pointed her toes and stretched her legs. Pulled her arms out and put them on top of the duvet. Tucked them back in again.
Opened her eyes and sighed. Then she sat up.
Felicia be damned. She was getting cake.
‘Brandy, boys?’ Patrick already had the bottle in his hand and three glasses set out on the table, so Lucas assumed this was a rhetorical question. Still, his father’s distraction with the perfect quantity of ice per glass gave him the opportunity he needed to talk to Tyler.
‘Aren’t you going to go and check on Dory?’ He was not getting involved, Lucas told himself. He was just… nudging Tyler into decent human behaviour. Too much time as an Alexander tended to strip people of that, and Lucas liked to think that there was still a glimmer of hope for his brother.
‘Dory? Why?’ Tyler placed his phone screen-down on the table. ‘She’s probably asleep by now.’
‘After that dinner? I doubt it.’
Tyler’s brow crinkled up. ‘What was wrong with dinner? She said she was feeling better after the car ride, right?’
Was his brother really that obtuse? Or had he just not been paying attention that evening? Lucas watched as Tyler picked up his phone again, tapping at the screen.
‘How about a cigar?’ Patrick asked. ‘I’ve got some special ones put aside in the study. I’ll fetch them. One moment.’ He strolled out of the room towards the other end of the hall.
Lucas grabbed the brandy closest to him and pushed it across to Tyler, then selected another glass for himself. ‘So. When are you going to tell them?’
‘Tell them what?’
‘The truth about Dory.’
Tyler’s gaze jerked up from the phone screen. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That she’s your assistant. Remember?’
‘Oh. That.’ Tyler’s head dipped back down and his fingers started moving over the screen again. ‘Hopefully never.’
‘So you’ll… what? Shift her to the PR department before anyone finds out?’
‘Something like that, yeah.’
Lucas watched him for a moment. This was not his business. He did not care what Tyler did about Dory. Hell, he’d deserve it if she walked out on him for being a stupid, inattentive bastard.
Except… Lucas couldn’t help remembering the way Dory had bossed Tyler around at the office. The way she’d stood her ground against him. How she’d seemed like she might actually be a match for his stubbornness and confidence – at least until she came up against Felicia Alexander.
Nobody deserved that. Especially not Dory.
‘And you’ve… spoken to Dory about the plan?’
Sighing, Tyler put his phone down again. ‘Look, don’t worry about it, okay? Dory knows the score.’
Somehow, that totally failed to make Lucas feel any better at all.
Taking a gulp of his brandy, Lucas pushed the glass across the table and got to his feet. ‘Okay, I know I’m not the world’s best advisor on women. And quite honestly, I really don’t want to get involved in your relationship, or the craziness that will follow if our mother figures out what’s actually going on here. But if you have any sense at all, you’ll go up to your room now and apologise to Dory for our parents.’ Piece said, he made his way to the door, until one final thought made him pause. ‘And Tyler, I’d take cake.’
Tyler’s confused expression suggested that his advice was destined to be ignored, but somehow Lucas felt a little lighter, anyway. He’d done his bit. Now he could go to bed without feeling guilty, and tomorrow it was back to the plan. In and out and back to his real life. Easy.
‘She’ll probably be asleep anyway,’ Tyler said. ‘I can talk to her in the morning. Besides, I want one of Dad’s cigars.’
Lucas sighed. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’ Assuming Dory didn’t smother Tyler in his sleep through sheer frustration.
***
No one had offered her a tour of Midfield House, so finding the kitchens was a bit hit and miss. Wincing as her bare toes hit the cold tiles of the back hallway, Dory figured she had to at least be getting close. She’d skirted the main hall, ducking behind a pillar as Patrick walked past with a box of cigars. Then, using a process of elimination, she darted through the small doorway to the back hallway that screamed ‘servants’ quarters.’
Then she saw it. The Holy Grail. The wide, clear, wooden surfaces, the oversized range cooker, the scrubbed kitchen table. And there, in the corner, the huge, American-style refrigerator. Somewhere in there, surely, there had to be cake.
Skipping over the icy floor tiles, Dory made her way to the fridge, yanking the door open and staring inside.
No cake.
Salad, fruit, cold meats and cheeses… but absolutely no cake.
Where the hell was the cake?
The fridge door didn’t even slam very satisfyingly. Dory clunked her head against the cool surface and thought hard. If she were a maid in this hateful house, where would she hide leftover cake?
‘It’s in the pantry fridge.’
Dory’s heart bounced up to her throat at the words, and she spun round so fast her foot slipped on the tiles. Grabbing the counter to keep herself upright, she stared at Tyler’s brother with wide eyes.
‘I’m sorry, I was just looking for—’
‘Cake,’ Lucas finished for her. ‘Like I say, Freya always keeps the desserts in the other fridge. In the pantry.’
Biting her lip, Dory shrugged. ‘You caught me. I like dessert.’
‘I could tell,’ Lucas said. ‘I saw your eyes widen when Freya brought it in earlier.’
‘It did look amazing.’
‘And your face fall when my mother cake-blocked you.’
‘I’m sure she had my best interests at heart,’ Dory lied. Felicia Alexander might be an utter snake, but she was still Lucas’s mother. Men didn’t tend to take too kindly to other women criticising their mothers, and the last thing she needed was Lucas reporting back to the family that Dory was badmouthing them behind their backs.
But to her surprise, Lucas laughed and said, ‘Oh, I doubt it. Usually the only interests she has at heart – or anywhere – are her own.’
‘Does that mean you’re not going to tell her if I eat the leftover cake?’ Dory asked.
Lucas’s smile turned sly. ‘Well now, that depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On whether you’re willing to share.’
Dory grinned. ‘I think I might