The Austen Playbook (London Celebrities #4)(60)

It was a rhetorical question. Actor, theatre, audition—it all followed, didn’t it?

Freddy looked over the woman’s shoulder, where she could see the usual scene unfolding, the bark of voices, the atmosphere that seemed to soak up both the nerves of newer performers and the ego of many established stars. She’d done this a hundred times before, sometimes for roles she really wanted, more often for roles she was strongly advised to pursue. She half expected to see her father there, but he’d made a point of not coming to her auditions since she was about fifteen, so she could fully focus. She’d been almost eighteen before she’d stopped looking into the stands and feeling his absence, still wanting her dad.

He was expecting her to report to his office shortly, with positive feedback in hand.

No longer a choice.

“No,” she said to the surprised woman. “Not this time.”

As she strode back the way she’d come, she tugged her phone from her bag and fired off a quick text.

Akiko’s response came back in less than a minute. At the Grantham Collections today. Meet me in the portrait room in half an hour.

Scores of painted eyes watched from the walls of the gold-painted, high-ceilinged chamber in the centre of the Grantham Collections in Clerkenwell. The longer Freddy stared back at them as she talked, keeping her voice low in the echoing room, the more she could swear some of them were moving in their frames. The stately looking dude with all the white curls had a disapproving little smile that seemed to be growing by the second. Disconcerting.

Akiko listened to her in silence, and when Freddy stopped speaking, gave a quiet whistle. “Oh, my. You’re about to toss the cat amongst the pigeons with a vengeance. Are you sure?”

“No,” Freddy said glumly. “I’m not. And I hope I’m wrong.”

Akiko crossed her legs, bouncing one foot in its stiletto boot. She was wearing a silk shirt and leather trousers, and looked so cool that Freddy felt like a scruffy frizzball sitting next to her in damp leggings, with her matted hair steaming. “How are you going to find out for sure?”

“I don’t know.” Freddy looked at the curly-haired portrait again. “If there’s anyone still living who knows the facts, it’s been so long that I expect they’ll want them to stay buried.”

Akiko followed her gaze. “General Godfrey Reynolds,” she said absently, nodding at the portrait. “Highly decorated commander in the Napoleonic Wars. And responsible for the deaths of many of his soldiers, from what I’ve found out.” Her finely arched brows compressed. “Does he remind you of anyone? It’s been nagging at me for weeks.”

“Dad,” Freddy said abruptly. “He looks a bit like Dad.”

She stood up, suddenly unable to sit still anymore, and stalked in the opposite direction, away from General Reynolds and his judgmental look. The smaller portraits in the far corner were giving off a much friendlier vibe. Akiko followed her, her heels tapping on the floorboards.

“On a lighter note, how are rehearsals going? I can’t wait for the performance.”

“Are you and Elise still coming to see it live?”

Akiko’s wife was a sculptor, and just as much of a darling as her spouse.

“Wouldn’t miss it. We’ll vote too.” She cleared her throat. “How’s Ferren?”

“Charming everyone on the estate who’s never worked with him before.” Freddy tucked her hair behind her ears. “He’s been at his best all weekend. An absolute delight to have around. You’d almost be fooled into thinking he’s turned over a new leaf.”

Akiko’s snort was delicate and ladylike, but spoke volumes.

“Exactly,” Freddy said. “It’s only a matter of time before he goes flying off the rails. I just hope it doesn’t happen until after the performance, because right now, the Ford-Griffins desperately need this show to come off. And Jesus God, I hope Sabrina isn’t caught up in the crash.”

“She’ll be broadcasting live from the estate on Friday, won’t she?”

“Yes.” Freddy winced. “With Nick Davenport. Speaking of cats among the pigeons, wait for the fur and feathers to fly there. So much for a relaxing lead-up to the show. I hope they don’t put anyone off. It needs to go well,” she said again, and realised Akiko was smiling at her. “What?”

“You.” Akiko’s face was gently teasing. “Smitten kitten.”

Freddy was mortified to feel her cheeks warming. Bloody Griff. He really had turned her into a blusher. “I just—want things to go well for him.”

“I can see that. I think it’s lovely.” Akiko tugged affectionately on one of her curls. “I think you’re lovely, and you bring so much happiness to the rest of us that if there’s any justice, the world will shower it back on you soon. I suppose you’ve gone all in, no holds barred?”

Freddy coughed. “Um—are you asking if I’ve slept with him?”

“This is me you’re talking to, not Sabs. I’m not that nosy. I’m talking emotions, my lovely. Are you falling for him?”

“Head-first. I suppose you’re going to tell me to be cautious?”

“No. I’m not. Under that bubbly personality, you have a very good head on your shoulders, and sound instincts, and anyone who earns your affection is bound to be worthy of it.” Akiko hesitated. “I know you feel like your family don’t always respect your opinions, but Sabrina doesn’t mean to patronise you. It’s the age gap. She can’t help still seeing you as her baby sister, and she worries about you where Rupert is concerned.” A hint of grimness. “Her own relationship with him is so distant that I think she’s afraid you’ll get hurt, too.”