The Austen Playbook (London Celebrities #4)(100)

The lady in question pushed firmly past her, and Freddy tensed against Griff.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Fiona Gallagher said, surveying the occupants of the room. “But I have to get back to London and I think it’s best we wrap this up quickly.”

Not an auspicious opening. A sick feeling started to roil between Freddy’s ribs.

“I won’t beat about the bush. I don’t care to dwell on disappointments.” Fiona’s attention flickered over to Lisa before she focused on Freddy. “Ms. Carlton. Lisa will have told you that we’re in the process of casting for the first run of Anathorn. I had high hopes for you in the role of Quinn.”

Had.

Freddy’s hand closed into a fist against Griff’s ribs, and his own fingers came up to cover hers, warm and strong.

“I’m afraid I won’t be pursuing that possibility.”

Cool, collected words that hit her like a physical blow.

“We’ll be strongly refuting the allegation that Freddy was complicit in this...incident,” Lisa said, her voice as brisk as Fiona’s, “and an unsubstantiated rumour is hardly cause to bar her from auditioning.”

Fiona coughed, a discreet clearing of her throat. “You’ll recall that when Allegra’s first novel was published, a member of her family made a claim that was later proven to be false, that the initial idea for the series had been his. Allegra is retaining a great deal of control over this adaptation, and she won’t want the latest literary scandal associated with this production. Her own situation would inevitably be raked up in the press.”

To Freddy, with the first faint hint of sympathy, she said, “You did a very good job tonight, but I’m sorry, I won’t be considering you for Anathorn.”

“Fiona—” Lisa sounded furious, but Fiona lifted a hand.

“It’s not open for discussion.” She firmly blocked Lisa’s move towards her, and her demeanour was closed-off and adamant as she left the room.

When the door had closed behind her, Sabrina slipped her hand into Freddy’s and squeezed. “This is ridiculous,” she snapped. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Why should you be penalised? It’s so unfair.”

Freddy let herself feel the intensity of her disappointment, then determinedly, she shoved it down. She straightened her shoulders. “There’ll be other productions.” Her eyes met Griff’s. “Still feel blessed,” she whispered. “No matter what.”

Her breath went shallow at the depth of feeling in his usually inscrutable face.

“But that’s the role you want.” Rupert spoke for the first time since they’d come back to the house. He’d been sitting on the couch looking a hundred years old, seeming to retreat further and further into himself with every passing word, but he stood now.

Stood tall. He suddenly smacked down the end of his stick, and the bang as it connected with the wooden floor echoed through the room.

“You’re right,” he said to Sabrina. “It is unfair. And enough is enough.” His jaw moved sideways in a nervous gesture, but his eyes didn’t waver from her. “I believe you’re going up against Davenport in this studio merger. You’re in contention for the headline role?”

“I was,” Sabrina said coolly. “As he’s now informed the whole of Britain that I knowingly profited from fraud, I’ll be lucky if I end up with any job at all.”

The footage of her punching Ferren in the nose wouldn’t aid the cause, either.

“You’re going to get the job you want.” Rupert came forward. Freddy realised how much effort he was expending to walk without a limp. He held his head high, and there was a dignity to his body language that had been missing since she’d first confronted him, in this room, over his dishonesty. “And so should Freddy. You’ve both worked incredibly hard for your careers, and you deserve your success. I won’t let you suffer for your grandmother’s mistakes.” His chin rose just a little farther. “Or for the choices I made wilfully.”

Sabrina looked understandably sceptical. “And what exactly do you intend to do about it?”

“You get your biggest audience share on Monday nights.” Rupert still spoke steadily. “Yes?”

“Yes.” Everything about Sabrina screamed hostility. “I’m surprised you know that.”

“I’ve been...deficient where you’re concerned.” He shaped the words tautly. “But I do care, Sabrina.” His jaw worked again. “And more to the point, I watch.”

Sabrina lifted her head.

“You’re an excellent presenter. Charismatic. Personable. Honest.” His voice wrapped ironically around that one, intensely self-condemning. “The public has a good deal of trust in you.”

“They did.” The sardonic edge was strong in Sabrina’s reply, as well.

“On Monday night, you go live with the truth. The whole story.” He was very pale. “We go live. You set the record straight—and you take back the upper hand from Davenport.”

Freddy was still holding on to Griff, and as her arms flexed around him instinctively, she felt his body shift. “The truth?” he queried, the heel of his hand rubbing against the small of her back. “Are you referring to the PR-friendly, edited version of the truth?”