Good Girls Lie(83)

Nickerson lights up. “Ah, jolly good, jolly good. I’m sure that would be quite helpful to streamline everything. But I’m here with some other news, I’m afraid. Of a private nature. Normally, Ash, I’d ask to speak to you alone, but since you’re a minor and his sole heir, my bosses asked me to have a witness signature on the papers, so I’ve asked the dean to stand in. Will that be all right?”

What the hell is this about?

“I have no secrets from Dean Westhaven.” On my honor. When lightning doesn’t strike immediately, I breathe a bit easier.

“Wonderful. Brilliant. Well, Ash, it seems your father had a codicil made a few months before he passed. Almost as if he... Well, never mind that. The codicil modifies his will. Now, don’t you worry, there are plenty of assets to go round, but it seems he’s left a good portion of his fortune to another... Ash, there’s no good way to put this. You have a sister.”



61

THE DECEPTION

The pain is so intense it numbs me. I can barely get out the word. Foreign. Wrong.

“Sister?”

“Yes. She’s a few years older than you, and can you believe it, she’s actually in Oxford. Or she was in Oxford. She decamped from the city a few months ago. We have her last knowns, but haven’t been able to locate her. Your father both acknowledged her and added her to the will.”

“A sister,” I repeat. I am officially overwhelmed now. “Added to the will.”

“Yes. I thought in light of your, well, you’ve been an only child since your brother’s death, and having lost your parents... I thought you might be pleased to know you aren’t quite so alone in the world. Even if she gets half the estate.”

I nearly drop my teacup.

“Half?”

“Oh, yes. Half. I don’t know all the details about how or why or when or who, but we’re looking for her now. Because of the sensitive nature of this, we wanted to let you know right away. It’s not above the press to get wind of these situations and we wanted to avoid a scandal or any impropriety. And we want to make sure there aren’t any impostors, either. My firm has been asked to verify the identity of your sister, when we find her, by a DNA match with you.”

“DNA.”

Really, I’ve become a parrot. An utterly, completely numb parrot.

“Ash, drink your tea,” Dean Westhaven encourages, forcibly lifting my hand to my mouth.

“I do think you’re in a wee bit of shock. Well, it’s big news, I’m sure. Too bad you’re not a spot older, we could put a nip in that cuppa, eh, Dean?”

“Ash, are you well?” Westhaven asks, clearly concerned.

I’ve buried my face in the teacup, biting my lip so hard I taste blood.

“What is her name?” I ask finally. “My sister.”

“Alexandria. Alexandria Pine. Mother’s name is Gertrude. Little Alex is an orphan, too, poor love. Sadly, her mother died from a drug overdose a few months ago, so she is also alone in the world. According to her work records, Alexandria was employed by a tea and chip shop in Oxford less than two months ago. But she moved on, the café owner said she’d had a job offer in London. Better opportunities, better pay. Who knows, you might have been face-to-face with her and never known it.”

Alexandria. “And this girl inherits half of my father’s fortune? This...complete stranger?”

“That’s the long and short of it, yes.”

“Does she have to have a college degree?”

Now he looks distinctly uncomfortable, flushing from his neck to his hairline. Good. The shoe is on the other foot.

“Erm...well, no. She inherits immediately, I gather. Outside of a morality clause, there’s nothing impeding Alexandria from taking her fortune as soon as we identify her. Forgive me, Ash, for sharing what the gossips are saying at the firm—your father only found out about her parentage recently. He wanted to make things right.”

“How?”

“How?”

“How did he find out?”

“A letter came. From this Gertrude. Your mum found it, apparently. Held on to it for a while. But he got his hands on it, brought it to the firm when he asked us to start looking for the girl.”

“And this woman, Gertrude. Who was she? You say she died from a drug overdose?”

“Yes. She was an addict. Heroin, I’m told.”

I sit as straight as I can, the squashy chair making it difficult. “How, exactly, did Sir Damien Carr have a child with a heroin addict named Gertrude? That’s simply ludicrous. My father had standards, at least.” We both know what I’m talking about. “Damien Carr was ridiculously wealthy. From an excellent family. He was the fucking wealth manager for half of fucking Parliament—”

“Ash! Your language is inappropriate.”

“Excuse me, Dean. I must be in shock. But for my father to dally with some sort of...addict, to get her pregnant, and to only now, after his death, be trying to acknowledge her? I’m rather curious, Mr. Nickerson. How many more ‘sisters’ will be coming out of the woodwork to claim their pound of flesh? This is an outrage. You should be ashamed, bringing me this nonsense. There is no legitimate codicil, my father would have told me.”

Nickerson is still blushing. “I am sorry, Ash. I don’t know any more than I’ve shared. I’m just the messenger.” And with a flourish, he pulls out a kit from his briefcase and some paperwork. “We only need a cheek swab, no blood work, thankfully. And a few signatures. All very civilized.”