The Austen Playbook (London Celebrities #4)(86)

“He told her, then?” Charlie asked in a low voice, nodding towards where Rupert stood, still looking out the window, his own shoulders held rigidly.

“She worked it out for herself,” Griff said. “She’s not an idiot.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, the memory of her expression seared into his mind. His muscles were still tense with wanting to hold her. “Although she obviously thinks I treated her like one. I should have told her right away. She got the impression that I brought her father down here to decide alone how to handle the situation, without bothering to involve her at all.”

Charlie puffed out his cheeks. “What a fucking mess, the whole thing.”

Griff didn’t bother to corroborate; it was stating only a plain fact.

At the window, Rupert suddenly turned. “I imagine,” he said coolly, “that I’m not going to play a very flattering role in this film of yours, when it goes into production.”

Griff didn’t bother to soften his words. “Despite your deficiencies in that area, you’re Freddy’s father. It would devastate her to see your reputation destroyed, even if you did bring it on yourself. I seem to have made a good job of unintentionally hurting her, but I’d never actively do something that would harm her.” He leaned against the desk. “I gave serious consideration as to whether we ought to just let the truth stay buried, and work out with Charlie and Freddy some other way—any other way—to keep Highbrook.”

He didn’t miss the sudden flare of hope in Rupert’s eyes, but Charlie added, with a quick, grateful look at Griff for that inclusion, “But as Griff said, he’s not acting alone in this, and I’m afraid I’m not quite so self-sacrificing where my home is concerned.”

“And Freddy wouldn’t stand for it,” Griff said. “However guilty she feels about the impact on you, and however much she’s had to repress these past years to live up to your expectations, she’s such a fundamentally honest person. She might have been understandably tempted to keep quiet for about five seconds, but it would prey on her mind for the rest of her life that she knew the truth and had done nothing.” He held Rupert’s gaze, his own very direct. “And Freddy’s happiness is my priority.”

A multiple of emotions cycled through Rupert’s expression as he held himself very still. At last, he seemed to steel his spine, in a way that exactly echoed the movement Freddy had made before she’d left, locking down her feelings because the show had to go on. “So, what do you suggest we do?”

“As Freddy has as much right to be involved in this discussion as anyone else, I suggest we hold off making any final decisions until after the performance tonight.” Griff found himself walking over to the window and looking out, scanning the grounds. More chaos—Nick Davenport’s crew had arrived. Fuck, he couldn’t wait until this circus was over. Nick was posed under an umbrella, talking to Sadie Foster, probably trying to coax her into a better mood before the broadcast tonight. That was playing with fire; Griff had heard the roll of thunder a few minutes ago, and if lightning was imminent he wouldn’t advocate standing next to the she-devil while holding a metal stick.

He finally located Freddy, already disappearing into the trees on her way back to the theatre. She was walking very quickly, and even from this distance her body language was furious.

“Fortunately,” Charlie said behind him, “your daughter is not only honest, she’s also kind-hearted. And if she does take pity on my socially inept brother, this whole thing becomes a family affair. Therefore, when Freddy’s less distracted, I suggest we start by coming to an agreement where royalties past and future are concerned.”

Turning, Griff lifted a brow. “A natural acumen for business after all?”

“Just dusting off my qualifications before I put them to use working towards opening my workshop.” Charlie looked at Rupert. “I believe you’re not short of a bob or two, which is lucky, because I’m afraid you’re going to have to crack open the purse strings.”

Rupert’s mouth compressed, but he moved his head to the side in a brief jerk of assent.

“It’s not solely a financial matter,” Griff said grimly. “There’ll be legal repercussions. And the press will seize hold of this and tear us all to shreds if they can.”

Charlie sat down on the edge of the desk. “Do you think there’s a risk of prosecution?”

Rupert was turning progressively paler. Griff came over to the desk. “The plagiarism was perpetrated decades ago. As far as Henrietta is concerned, there’s nobody left to prosecute. And where you’re concerned...” His gaze on Rupert was very cool, but to his credit, the other man didn’t look away, despite how humiliating he had to be finding this situation. Having to put his fate in the hands of the enemy, so to speak. “For Freddy’s sake,” Griff said again, stressing the point, “I suggest we...skate over the small detail of exactly when you discovered the rightful playwright.”

Rupert tightened his hands on his walking stick. “Not exactly honest.”

“No. But if you’re prepared to make amends privately,” Griff said pointedly, “and Violet’s work is recognised, even this belatedly, then I don’t see the point of making the situation uglier than it has to be.”

Rupert was silent for a moment, before he said, “I thought you’d want to throw me under the bus.”