Miss Right All Along
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Jessica Gilmore
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18,5K
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15
CHAPTER ONE
‘I AM SURE she asked for this song on purpose.’ Charlie took a swig of his champagne and casually looked away from the dance floor. He was not going to give the bride the satisfaction of seeing him staring. Of seeing him display any emotion apart from showing that he was having a perfectly marvellous time, thank you very much.
Millie Myles, his best friend and long-suffering date, looked up from her own glass. A glass she had been staring into like it might hold the answer to many of life’s problems. It was an outlook Charlie shared, tonight at least, but not one Millie usually took, and she was unlikely to be devastated by the wedding of society beauty Octavia Sinclair—and Charlie’s long-term on/off girlfriend—to tech bro billionaire Layton Stone. The opposite in fact.
‘We are never ever getting back together?’ Millie grinned. ‘I doubt the whole playlist has been designed to humiliate you, but with this song you might have a point. Ignore it, just look at me and pretend you’re having a good time. That’s what I am here for. That, moral support and to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid during the vows.’
‘Your hand on my knee was very helpful at the persons here present bit, thanks, but unneeded, honestly. I have humiliated myself in front of Octavia Sinclair for the last time. Octavia Stone I suppose she is now.’ He took another swig. ‘At least the champagne is good.’
‘Too good.’ Millie grabbed the bottle from the middle of the table and refilled both their glasses. ‘Let’s do a toast. Here’s to being young, free and single...’ There was an edge to her voice he couldn’t quite decipher. It was a while since she had split up with Tom, but Charlie hadn’t seen any signs that she was craving a new relationship; her floristry business was doing so well it seemed to take up all her energy. No wonder, she was really talented. Look at how she’d transformed the rather gloomy stone great hall belonging to Octavia’s parents with her clever use of colour, her gorgeous designs and decorations.
‘Does thirty count as young still?’ Charlie asked doubtfully. ‘According to my parents it’s the high time you settled down and thought about your responsibilities to the estate age. Not much young and free there.’
‘What responsibilities? You could hardly do more for the ancestral home, Charlie. You live there, work there...’
‘And apparently I need to settle down and supply the next generation of overlords and worker bees.’
‘Ah, that kind of responsibility.’
Charlie picked up his glass, dangling it by the stem. ‘The problem is where do I start with the whole marriage and kids thing? I’ve only ever been serious about one woman and she’s the one on the dance floor in the long white dress. You know, I always thought that one day Octavia and I would stop all the breaking up and dramatics, get married and live reasonably happily ever after.’
Millie raised an eyebrow so expressive it could have starred in its own video. ‘Optimistic much? Seriously, take away the drama and what really was there, Charlie?’
‘It wasn’t all bad,’ he protested. ‘Far from it. We spent fourteen years together, on and off.’
‘Mostly off,’ Millie muttered and he nudged her.
‘She’s not just the drama queen and society queen bee everyone thinks she is. She has a really sensitive side, she just hides it from most people...’
‘Which is why she’s weaponizing Taylor Swift at her wedding?’
‘Good point well made.’ Charlie took another swig. This champagne really was going down a little too well. But then it wasn’t every day a man had to sit by and watch his first and only love, his ex-fiancée, say ‘I do’ to another man.
He sighed. He’d been one half of the golden couple that had been Octavia and Charlie since his mid-teens and it took some getting used to the fact that they were absolutely and utterly finally over. In many ways the drama of their relationship had been an addiction. He knew it was bad for him and there was no happy outcome and yet he had kept on returning to her anyway.
But no more. The last break-up was the final one and it was time he moved on into whatever—or whoever—his future held. Millie thought so, his other best friend Giles thought so, his little sister Tabitha thought so, hell, even the family dog had a firm opinion on the matter. Octavia herself had clearly and publicly moved on, hence the expensive designer white dress and huge glittering rock on her left hand. In a way he envied her, her seamless transition to Layton. Charlie had no idea how to go about dating someone different after so many years with one person. All he knew was that he wanted his future drama-free. A sedate, adult relationship where disagreements were talked out and compromises reached and no one ever threw an engagement ring into a river.
‘Those two definitely had an argument before the wedding.’ Millie nodded at the couple dancing past them. ‘They were glaring at each other in the church.’
‘Were they? I didn’t notice.’
‘Because you were staring at the bride.’
‘True,’ he conceded. Although not so much in hope she would call the wedding off, as so many people here no doubt thought, but in hope watching her say ‘I do’ meant he could finally close this very long, drawn-out chapter.
Hugo and Charity, instead of glaring, were now wrapped around each other and kissing passionately. Charlie leaned against Millie. Bless her for trying to distract him. Again. He really needed to make more of an effort to be a more amusing companion; after all, he knew that she often found society affairs difficult, too conscious that she was the daughter of a cook and a gardener, here as Charlie’s friend not in her own right. Which was, of course, utter nonsense. Millie was worth twice every other person here, with the exception of his sister Tabitha and Giles. Actually, scratch that, bloody Giles was acting as Layton’s best man after all, just Tabby then.
He glanced over at his sister. Tabby was laughing as she chatted to her best friend Liberty, who looked up and met his gaze, her own a concerned query. Was everyone here waiting for him to do something drastic? They’d be disappointed if so. All Charlie intended to do was sample as much of the free champagne as possible and survive the day with his dignity intact. He smiled at her reassuringly and then looked away quickly. Once, long ago, he’d put Liberty in an awkward position, one right between him and Octavia, and that night still prickled at his conscience. She’d been far too young, just eighteen, and things had never been the same between them since, their easy, almost familial relationship, turned awkward and polite. If Tabby knew, about the kiss, about the way he had just walked away, about the way he had never mentioned it again or apologised, she would, if not kill him, maim him—she had always been very protective of Liberty. And he would deserve it.
So best not to even notice let alone think about how beautiful Liberty looked tonight. Charlie turned his attention firmly back to Millie, leaning in and lowering his voice as Hugo and Charity stopped close to their table, still snogging, hands groping places that really didn’t need to be groped in public. ‘I think she was hoping he’d propose before now. They’ve been dating long enough.’
‘How long is long enough?’
Charlie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Octavia and I were together for years...’
‘Except you broke up every six months or so,’ Millie pointed out.
‘That might have been the problem.’
‘Not the only problem,’ Millie said. ‘She was also awful to you, and the whole relationship was toxic, and I wanted better for you because I love you and you’re one of my very favourite people.’
Why couldn’t he be in love with Millie? She was his best friend, the kindest, the funniest, the most talented woman he knew. He pulled her in for a hug. ‘And you’re one of mine. You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get married now. I think Octavia was my one shot. If I couldn’t make it work with her...’ He shook his head. ‘Except I have to, somehow. There’s the estate. The title. The entail. My family expect—no, they need me to marry and carry on the line. But how can I? She was my one true love. How can I marry someone else?’ Oh no, he had definitely drunk too much. He was getting morose and sentimental not to mention repetitive. One day he would be that man in the corner of the bar telling every unwary stranger who got too close about the one who got away. Even though he knew better, had known better for a long time.
‘I don’t believe that.’ Millie took his hands in hers. ‘I know it hurts now, but you have to have faith. I thought that Tom was my one shot...’
‘And you haven’t dated anyone seriously since. Remind me how this is supposed to convince me?’
‘I guess I just have to have faith,’ she said. ‘I saw the doctor the other day and...’
She had what? Suddenly he felt a lot more sober. Was this why she had been so quiet over the last few days, lapsing into thought, not really listening or chatting on as usual? ‘Is everything okay? What did they say?’ He couldn’t hide his worry and she squeezed his hand.
‘Nothing like that,’ she assured him. ‘But I’d been having some tests for, well, women’s stuff. And it turns out that my fertility is declining a lot faster than is usual for someone in their late twenties. They reckon that if I want to start a family, well, I need to either freeze my eggs and hope, or get started now.’
Charlie let out a long breath. ‘I’m sorry. I know how much having a family means to you.’ Millie had always talked about having lots of children. An only child herself, she craved noise and bustle and laughter. And if anyone would make a wonderful mother it was her. Life really was bloody unfair sometimes. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Find someone to fall madly in love with me in the next forty-eight hours and marry them after a whirlwind courtship, settle down and have kids as soon as possible and live happily ever after?’ she said wryly. ‘I guess I’ll look into getting my remaining eggs frozen. Hope that things work out later.’ She shrugged. ‘Not many other options, are there?’
‘Maybe we should just get married,’ Charlie suggested. ‘Could solve a lot of problems.’
Millie laughed. ‘Can you imagine? My mum would be over the moon.’
‘So would mine.’ He got to his feet and held out his hand. ‘Come on. If we have to wedding, let’s at least wedding properly and get a good boogie in.’
He’d been joking of course, when he had suggested they get married, but as he dragged her onto the dance floor he couldn’t help wishing again that they could fall in love. It would certainly solve both of their problems.
‘This might be the worst wedding I have ever been to,’ Liberty Gray whispered as she held her glass up in what was, to her at least, a mocking toast to the bride and groom. ‘Just ridiculously ostentatious and so self-important.’
‘You’re only saying that because a, you hate weddings in general and b, because you despise Octavia,’ her best friend Tabitha whispered back. ‘I mean, it’s fair. I despise Octavia even more than you. And I haven’t exactly warmed to the groom either.’
‘Has he had excessive Botox do you think? Maybe he suffers that thing our teachers used to warn us about; you know, don’t pull faces in case the wind changes? No one’s face can be that taut naturally surely?’
‘With his money if it was Botox then surely it would be a better job? Besides, he’s the same age as Charlie and he’s not resorted to fillers yet.’ Tabby giggled, looking over at the next table. ‘Poor Charlie. He’s doing very well. I can’t imagine why on earth he accepted the invitation. No one would blame him for swerving.’
‘How long were he and Octavia engaged for?’ As if she didn’t know.
‘In total two years but of course they had at least one of their many breaks during that time. You know, I accepted the invitation just to make sure she really did get well and truly married off and any threat to Charlie was finally over.’
If Liberty was being very honest with herself then she would admit that she had accepted Tabby’s pleas to be her plus-one for exactly the same reason. Not that she still had any feelings for Charlie—or Charles St Clare Howard as he was more formally known, the future Baron Howard, heir to a historic title, stately home and huge estate—she had grown out of them long ago. A schoolgirl crush, nothing more. But she was glad he was no longer in any danger of marrying Octavia. She wouldn’t wish that fate on her worst enemy.
Despite herself she glanced over at Tabby’s brother again. He had clearly had a glass or two of champagne too many, his blue eyes a little too glazed, his dark hair a little too ruffled, his tie slightly askew as he leaned against the pretty, curvy girl next to him, laughing as she whispered in his ear. Something that felt a lot like jealousy shot through her and she quickly dampened it down. Charlie Howard was a free agent, he could cosy up to whoever he chose.
Tabby followed her gaze and grimaced. ‘Looks like Charlie is going for the drowning his sorrows option,’ she said. ‘Thank goodness Millie is keeping an eye on him. Don’t they look good together? We always hoped that they would end up falling for each other, but Charlie has never been that sensible, or maybe Millie is too sensible to get tangled up with him in that way. She did the flowers and say what you want about Octavia and I usually do, but even I have to admit she has exquisite taste. Doesn’t it all look marvellous?’
‘Yes,’ Liberty conceded. It did. The great hall was decked out in autumnal colours, warm golds and oranges softening the austere grey. And Octavia of course looked stunning, her rather sharp, cool angular beauty the perfect framing for the designer wedding dress—her second of the day so far. Her green eyes glittered with triumph and why not? She was marrying one of the richest and most successful men of their generation. He on the other hand looked like he was adding a rare object to his collection, his gaze possessive rather than loving and proud.
‘I’m glad Millie is here, especially as Giles is best man. I have no idea what he’s thinking agreeing to be part of the wedding party,’ Tabby continued, throwing a disdainful look up at the top table. ‘He’s Charlie’s best friend, apart from Millie obviously. I didn’t even think he knew Layton that well.’
‘Another way of sticking it to Charlie? It’s not enough that Octavia is marrying someone else, he has to witness it, you are invited too, his childhood best friend has to do the flowers, his best mate is the best man. Is she just trying to hurt him, or do you think all this is a desperate plea for him to ride to her rescue?’
‘You and I both know that Octavia Sinclair is quite capable of rescuing herself. I just hope that this shows Charlie once and for all that he is better off without her.’
‘Me too,’ Liberty agreed.
But two hours later it seemed unlikely that their wish would come true any time soon. What was Octavia thinking, cutting into Charlie’s dance with Millie and insisting he dance with her? Had the woman no heart? Liberty took a sip of her wine and glared at the busy dance floor as Octavia threw her head back and laughed at something Charlie said, an intimate smile on her pouting mouth, looking up at him from under her lashes, a look Liberty had spent far too many teenage years trying to replicate without success.
Charlie’s smile on the other hand looked forced, his posture tense, and Liberty’s heart squeezed. The man might be a fool wasting his teenage years and all his twenties on a woman as mercurial and dramatic as Octavia, but she knew Charlie had truly loved her, had seen depths in her that nobody else had. Maybe he had been fooling himself, or maybe Octavia really did have a secret side she had only shown to him. But today she was behaving true to form, trying to reel him back in even though she had literally just married someone else.
Well, it might be her wedding day but that didn’t mean everything had to go her way.
Before she had time to think through her actions, Liberty strode onto the dance floor, wishing she had bought a pair of flats as her feet protested the movement, and tapped Octavia on the shoulder.
‘Mind if I cut in?’ she asked sweetly.
The momentary look of shock and anger was so vitriolic that Liberty nearly took a step back before Octavia clearly remembered where she was and smiled.
‘Of course, I’ve monopolised you for too long, Charlie darling.’ She couldn’t just leave it there, leaning in to press a lingering kiss on his cheek before sashaying away without a backwards glance.
‘You don’t have to dance with me,’ Liberty said quickly. ‘I just thought you might need a rescue.’
Close up she could see that Charlie was both more and less drunk than she had imagined.
‘I would love to dance with you,’ he said with an exaggerated bow. ‘Shall we?’ He held out a hand and she took it, flushing as his fingers closed around hers.
‘Having fun, Liberty?’ he asked as he whirled her into the middle of the dance floor. Charlie was an excellent dancer, she hadn’t forgotten that, even though she hadn’t danced with him since New Year’s Eve eight years ago. A night she both tried to relive and forget in equal measure. Did he remember at all? She suspected so. He’d been a little distant with her ever since then, polite and friendly enough, but he had avoided ever being alone with her. Liberty’s gaze dropped to his mouth and despite herself she couldn’t help remembering how he tasted, how he had felt, how his kiss had been everything her romantic eighteen-year-old heart had wanted it to be. How she might have let things progress if Octavia hadn’t shown up unexpectedly. How Charlie had left her with just one apologetic backwards look. How they had never spoken about it again. How she had tried to forget it and yet, despite several actual relationships since, that kiss was still the one she thought about when she couldn’t sleep at night.
Eighteen-year-old her had been a romantic fool. Luckily twenty-six-year-old her was much more sensible.
With a start she realised that Charlie was still waiting for an answer. What was the question again? Ah yes, was she having fun. ‘Not really,’ she said honestly and after a startled look he let out a shout of laughter.
‘Me neither,’ he said. ‘Tell me, are you nursing a broken heart too?’ His tone was self-mocking. ‘Champagne is an excellent cure if so.’
‘No broken heart, I just don’t like big over the top weddings.’
‘Don’t let Tabby let you hear you say that,’ he warned. ‘Where would the Howard family be without huge weddings and glitzy parties? The more excess the better is our new family motto.’
Liberty laughed. ‘Tabby knows how I feel, it doesn’t mean I don’t admire what you do.’ The Howard family had taken their portfolio of expensive to maintain houses, castles and lodges and created a hugely successful events and location business, supplying the backdrops for myriad films, TV programmes and photo shoots as well as organising luxury and glamorous weddings and parties.
‘So, tell me Liberty Gray, what kind of wedding would you want?’
‘I’m not sure marriage is for me. It always seems like hope over common sense, most end in divorce anyway.’
Charlie laughed. ‘So cynical, so young.’
Not cynical, experienced. Her family were single-handedly responsible for most of the divorce statistics, after all. ‘Just being practical,’ she retorted. ‘But in the unlikely event I did succumb then I would want it to be small, intimate, something real. If I ever did get married, I want it to be forever.’
‘Me too.’ Their gazes caught and held, his smile rueful. ‘I’ve had enough drama and ups and downs to last me a lifetime. I suspect you are the same.’
‘I don’t know how my mother had the energy to organise a big extravaganza for her fourth wedding or my father to think that the fifth might be the one to succeed, you know.’ She was the only product of her mother’s second marriage and her father’s third, born into a dysfunctional theatre dynasty with a family tree so complicated it required pages of footnotes to figure it out. No wonder she had always been happier to spend her holidays with Tabitha. Howard Hall might be imposing and impressive, but the family were warm and welcoming and Liberty had always felt wanted there, something that wasn’t always the case in the revolving door of her stepfamilies.
‘Here’s to real, Liberty.’ Charlie had manoeuvred her back to his table where he picked up his glass of half-drunk champagne and held it up to her in a toast. ‘To real and happy ever afters, whatever they may be.’
‘Whatever they may be,’ she echoed, toasting him back. For one moment as she looked into his still glazed blue eyes Liberty felt that old pull, a renewing of the crush that had kept her navigating towards Charlie during the years he had known her only as his kid sister’s friend. But there were no happy ever afters for her where Charlie Howard was concerned. If she ever gave her heart away again—and that was a big if—next time it would be to someone who truly wanted it.
