The Austen Playbook (London Celebrities #4)(82)

“Freddy Carlton,” he said, oh so charmingly. He and Sabrina—the practiced schmoozers. They were more alike than they’d ever admit. “Nice to see you again. I hope things are on track here?”

A sound emerged from her throat that jumbled together irony and misery with a hint of hysteria, and Nick was obviously taken aback. He almost lost the trademark smile completely. “Problem?”

“Several. Excuse me.” Ducking around him, Freddy dashed through the rain towards the house. She’d apologise for the rudeness later, although behind that smooth exterior Nick was ruthless and probably impervious to snubs.

Inside, she went straight to the library. Griff and Charlie had obviously finished their conversation, so she expected he’d be in there working.

She had several things to say to him. Her incredibly acute lover and budding best mate, who knew the research material for his film like the back of his hand.

She put her hand on the library door and stopped as voices came to her from the other side of the wood. It was déjà vu to the moment at the Metronome, standing there, listening to words that affected her profoundly. Not quite in the same way this time.

“...don’t tell Freddy...” She heard Griff’s deep tones distinctly, followed by an inaudible muttering from a voice slightly higher in pitch.

That she also recognised.

Her temper snapped.



Chapter Seventeen


Freddy pushed open the library door without knocking, and the two men she cared about most in the world turned their heads. They were standing by the table, with documents strewn between them, looking like a couple of wartime generals consulting on the plan of attack. Making arrangements that would affect other people’s lives, behind their backs.

Ignoring Griff for the moment, since obviously none of this was a surprise to him at all, the bloody infuriating, overprotective, overbearing...clod, Freddy met her father’s shuttered gaze. “You knew,” she said. “I’ve been stressing for days, wondering how to break it to you. And you knew all along. You wrote All Her World, you profited by the story, y-you held up Henrietta to me as this shining example of a woman with drive and ambition, this goal of success—” Already her voice was cracking, the hurt warring with the anger, which only infuriated her more. These two had treated her like enough of a fucking mug without her breaking down and sobbing all over them, but she couldn’t hold back the distress. “Dad. Oh, Dad. Why did you write the book?”

Red spots started to burn on her father’s cheeks. Suddenly, as he had in Henrietta’s office last week, he looked so much older.

Griff came towards her, but when she jerked away from his outstretched hand, he flinched. “Did Charlie tell you?” The question was rough with concern. “I told him I needed to—”

“Oh, you told Charlie what you’d obviously realised straight away, did you?” Freddy breathed in shakily, glaring at him. “Glad you’re opening up to your brother and treating him like a capable adult with a brain. Wish you’d extended the same courtesy to me.”

Griff’s brows snapped together. “Freddy—”

“I poured my heart out to you about how worried I was about telling my father, and you didn’t think to mention that it probably wasn’t necessary to agonise over it. That, by the way, my dad is as much a part of the whole sodding web of lies as my script-pinching grandma and your nympho grandad.”

“Freddy—” he tried again, his hand on her arm, but again she shook him off, and turned back to her father, who was watching them, a shuttered expression in his eyes.

His eyes, which were identical to hers, and to Henrietta’s. The three of them connected in this bloody mess.

“Did you come here to talk to me about The Velvet Room audition?” Freddy shot at him, and didn’t miss the way his gaze flickered over to Griff.

“No.” Griff’s voice was even but his face was set in tense lines. He didn’t look away from her. “Your father is here because I texted him on Wednesday morning and asked him to come.”

“And said nothing about it to me.” Freddy swallowed. The hurt was starting to overwhelm everything else, and Griff recognised it. Of course. Eagle Eyes over there. Perceptive as always. And apparently as much of a control freak as ever. “You realised Dad already knew the truth about Henrietta and decided to have it out with him and work out what to do behind my back. Because flighty, flirty, impulsive Freddy can’t be trusted to handle it, and certainly couldn’t offer any help.”

A nerve pulsed beside Griff’s mouth. “You’re one of the strongest, brightest people I’ve ever met. I made the mistake of underestimating you in the past. I never will again.” Some of his composure ruptured, and his words were ripped out jaggedly. “You know how I feel about you—”

“No.” Freddy’s voice was equally unsteady. “I don’t. I hoped I did, but to know you said nothing all week, that you went behind my back—”

She broke off. Just yesterday, she’d spouted on so confidently to Sabrina about how Griff treated her as an equal. One of the only people in her life who did, it had seemed. And now—

Disappointment was an ache deep within her body. Somehow, Griff’s actions hurt even more than the profound disillusionment of Rupert’s culpability.