Page 39 of The Last Casterglass
“My parents offered for me to accompany them on their cruise, but I don’t want to cramp their style, and spending a week with a bunch of bingo-playing pensioners…well, it could be worse, I suppose, but I don’t really fancy it.”
“And what about everyone else?”
She shrugged. “I’m not a child, and they’re all in their thirties and forties. It’s not their job to think about me that way.” Something she had started to realise, after feeling like the forgotten child for so long. She was a grown woman now, in charge of her own life. “Maybe I’ll go to Paris,” she told Oliver with the same nonchalance she’d spoken with earlier. “Or Prague. Spend Christmas in a strange city by myself.” She knew she wouldn’t.
“You should,” Oliver told her. “That is, if you really want to.”
Seph put her mug down and hugged her knees to her chest. “I don’t really know what I want,” she admitted. “I’ve spent my whole life here, and sometimes it’s felt like a prison, but I’m too afraid to go out and do something, all by myself.” She bit her lip, embarrassed by admitting so much. This whole vulnerability thing had become a bit easier, but it still felt hard. “You could spend Christmas here, if you wanted,” she told him, not wanting to sound too desperate and yet feeling it. Wanting him to, so much. “It could be fun, even if it would just be the two of us rattling around.” Which did sound fun, to her, but Oliver had a distant look on his face like he was thinking about other, more attractive possibilities.
“I could,” he said slowly, but he didn’t sound remotely convinced.Ouch.
She’d been practically begging him to, Seph realised with a scorching flush of shame. She jumped up from her seat, whisking their mugs away. “We should get going,” she said, ducking her head so she didn’t have to look at him. “I’m sure Althea has a list a mile long of things for you to do, and I’m meant to be finishing some table favours she has me making. Little wooden pots—”
“Seph, I didn’t mean I didn’t want to spend Christmas here—” Oliver began, but she shook her head, speaking over him.
“No, no, it’s fine. Christmas isn’t really that much of a thing in my family anyway. I mean, we usually get a tree and there are a few presents, but until last year it was all pretty hit or miss. I don’t mind being here on my own, honestly.” Somehow, she forced herself to look at him and smile, although she couldn’t quite look him in the eye. “We should get going,” she said again, and then she hurried from the room, wanting to hide her hurt and embarrassment from him, even if she couldn’t hide it from herself.
Chapter Fifteen
It was pouringrain, which suited Oliver’s mood perfectly. He gazed gloomily at his reflection in the age-spotted mirror in his tiny bedroom under the eaves, as rain drummed on the roof and the front lawn became a sea of mud. It was the day of Althea’s wedding, and everyone was flying around the house, creating a happy chaos as they finished all the urgent, last-minute things—flowers to arrange or deliver, table favours to assemble, bridesmaid dresses that needed emergency alterations.
Oliver had been on the periphery of it all; he’d offered to help, but he seemed only to be getting in the way, and so he’d retreated to his bedroom to put on his jacket and tie in preparation for the evening ceremony. It was meant to be a small, intimate wedding for immediate family and local friends, with a candlelit ceremony in the parish church in Casterglass, and then a reception in the great hall back at the castle. Oliver felt a bit like a pretender, being here at all, when he’d only known the family for less than two months, but they’d insisted he stay for the wedding.
As for what came after…
Oliver grimaced at his reflection before turning away. He’d made a real mess of that. When Seph had suggested he stay at Casterglass for Christmas, he’d been both touched and thrilled, of course he had, but he knew he hadn’t acted like it—only because he’d been thinking about something else! Something better. But did he dare suggest such a thing to Seph?
In any case, she hadn’t given him the opportunity. In the three days since they’d had that conversation, she hadn’t been avoiding him, not exactly…but close. Very close. When he’d taken her a coffee to her workshop, she’d thanked him and then fired up her lathe, explaining she was busy. When he’d tried to have a chat after dinner or in one of the infrequent lulls in the daily grind, she’d been friendly enough but hurried away pretty darn quickly, with the excuse she had to do something for Althea. And thingshadbeen busy, with everyone going into pre-wedding hyperdrive. He couldn’t blame her for that, and yet he sensed instinctively that she was avoiding him for a reason—because he hadn’t jumped on the chance of spending Christmas with her at Casterglass.
Which wasstupid, because of course he wanted to spend Christmas with her. He’d just never got an opportunity to tell her so, although in all honesty Oliver knew that was as much his fault as Seph’s. They both had a terror of putting themselves out there, he thought, they just handled it in different ways. But Christmas was in five days, and everyone was leaving Casterglass in the next forty-eight hours. It was make-or-break decision time. The question was—did he have the guts?
Recklessly Oliver reached for his laptop. Unfortunately, the Wi-Fi signal was too weak to reach his bedroom up in the attic, so he took it downstairs to the sitting room, which was thankfully empty as everyone was taking photographs. The wedding was in less than an hour, the calm before the storm. Oliver opened his laptop, pressed a few buttons. Could he really do this? Was he presuming too much? Would Seph be annoyed or even appalled?
And yet…
They’d both spent their life on the fringes of family, living in the shadows and pretending they liked it. Seph had acted indifferent and sullen, while he’d tried too hard to be cheerful and easy to please. Two sides of the same sad coin, but they could be different now. Different together.
In a different place…
Drawing a deep breath, Oliver clicked the mouse of his laptop, and then released his breath in a shuddery sigh as he saw it had gone through. The die was cast. Now he just had to work up the courage to ask Seph.
“Oliver, there you are!” Violet wafted into the room in a surprisingly staid dress of royal blue to whose neckline she had attached several garish, fake blowsy red roses. “Althea wanted you in some of the photos.”
“What?” Oliver stared at her, appalled. He was little more than an acquaintance, far from family. “I don’t think—”
“Oh, come on, now,” Violet said with a playful smile. “You are practically family, you know.”
“Not really—”
“Well, who knows, you might be one day.” While Oliver merely gaped, she continued blithely, “I’d almost think there was something in the water, the way people have been pairing off.”
“Um…” Oliver had no idea what to say to any of that.
“You don’t need to say a word, dear boy,” Violet told him with an airy smile, “it’s all there in your face, and has been for some time. And in Persephone’s face, as well, I might add. I rather think you are perfect for each other. Hopefully over Christmas you’ll stop dithering about it.”
Oliver felt a flush fight its way up his neck and suffuse his face. Had all the Penryns been talking about him and Seph? The thought was utterly mortifying.
“I don’t know what’s happening over Christmas,” he said, despite his recent activity on his laptop.