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“Indeed.” Peat and smoke coated Ryder’s throat and warmed his stomach, along with a smoothness that spoke of years of barrel aging.
Enjoy your moment, Father.
“Ryder, darling.” His mother accepted a glass of red wine from a member of the staff Ryder didn’t recognize before she glided over to kiss him on the cheek. “We’re so thrilled you’re here.”
“Mum.” His heart twinged at the happiness glowing in her eyes. He shoved away the guilt. If he let himself feel any emotion, anger would surely flood the room. And he couldn’t afford to let that happen.
Not yet.
His mother’s smile faltered as she took in his bruises. “Is everything all right?”
Or maybe it was the look in his eyes. Ryder took another sip of his Scotch, focusing on the burn of the liquid. “I’m fine.”
Sadie hung back, her expression clouded.
When his mother turned to respond to a comment from her husband, Ryder excused himself and sidled over to his younger sister.
Her blue eyes, so like their father’s, searched his. “I overheard Oliver Winfield and Dad discussing you. Were you really acting as a bodyguard for Nathalie Williams? I thought for sure if you two saw each other again…” She shrugged, her lips tilting down.
He wanted to tell her the truth, that he and Nathalie were together, but now wasn’t the time. He’d try to make it up to her later. “In real life, some bridges are too hard to cross.”
His gaze was drawn across the room to his father. “Sometimes, all you can do is burn them and move on.”
What he was about to do would hurt his mother and sisters deeply.
He leaned down and whispered in Sadie’s ear. “Always remember that I love you. No matter what.” He stepped away before Sadie could interrogate him.
At precisely seven p.m., Charles announced dinner was ready.
His father took his customary seat at one end of the massive rectangular mahogany relic in the formal dining room. His mother sat to her husband’s left. Becca moved to sit on Philip’s right. Ryder caught his father’s disapproving glare. His sister stiffened, then moved down one chair, leaving the seat next to Philip open for Ryder.
Ryder selected three slices of Chateaubriand from the platter offered by a member of the household staff and scooped generous servings of potatoes and Brussels sprouts onto his plate. He took a sip of the Burgundy Grand Cru in the crystal glass to his right and savored the smooth, earthy minerality paired with tart cherry notes. Besides his love of premium whisky, his father had a professionally curated wine cellar.
“How is Arborleigh Holdings doing, now that one of its largest real estate clients has been arrested for industrial espionage?” Ryder kept his voice even, his face neutral, as if he were discussing an article in theFinancial Times, rather than an impending scandal his father must desperately be trying to keep out of the tabloids.
Becca tensed beside him.
His father’s fork halted midway to his mouth, his eyes darkening. “Liu’s illegal activities have nothing to do with Arborleigh Holdings. I made that quite clear to both the Metropolitan Police and MI5.”
“Perhaps you should be more discerning in your associations, Father. Money isn’t everything. Liu hired a former British soldier to steal my client’s software design.” Ryder savored the surprise glittering in the old man’s eyes. “Which is why I was hired to protect her.”
He placed a subtle emphasis on the wordher. A cold satisfaction filled him at the fleeting dismay in his father’s expression.
“What client is this?” his mother asked.
Ryder held his father’s stare.
“No one important,” the earl snapped. His frosty gaze narrowed on his son. “And this is not appropriate dinner conversation.”
“My apologies.” Ryder’s words were polite, but the look he sent his father was anything but contrite.
Elizabeth raised her glass in a toast. “Enough business talk. This is lovely, our being together as a family.”
“Yes, it’s as it should be.” Philip raised his glass. “To family.”
Ryder lifted his drink, saluted his father with a bland smile. “That’s what is most important, after all. Maintaining the façade of proper etiquette and breeding.”
“Ryder.” His mother’s voice was hushed as everyone lowered their glasses hesitantly.