“For fuck’s sake, London. You really stepped in it. And she’s your mate?” James only waited for London to nod. “Well, you’re done for now. Those silly little cards you sent to her won’t help you any. Not if you mean to mate her.”
“But I don’t. Not really.”
James quirked his eyebrows all the way up into his hairline. “Oh? And does your mother know Bethany is your mate?”
“No.” London blew out a breath. “Though if I didn’t know any better, I would think she planned this. But that’s not possible. There’s just no way she would have known. No, this is just one of those happy coincidences of life.” His words dripped with sarcasm.
“If she’s your mate, and you don’t want to mate her, why are you reading up everything on her online?”
“I have no explanation for that except curiosity. She’s beautiful and wicked smart. She’s had a rough go of it.” He motioned to the screen.
It didn’t take long for James to be all caught up on the mystery of Lilly Russo’s death.
“Why do I feel like this is going to be my problem?” James asked as he crossed his arms. He wasn’t as tall as London, only about six feet. His shoulders weren’t as wide, but for a human, he was well-built and strong. They had been on the rowing team at Eton together, the last time London had gone. Their friendship had been a fast one to develop. It helped that London always seemed to become close to James’ ancestors. They were just good people.
“I have a huge favor to ask. I can’t go to the States to look into this. And if I ask York to do anything, the ass will just get me to reveal that Bethany is my mate. I don’t need that grief, because you can bet my dear older brother would immediately tell Johanna.”
“Shit. You want me to go to the US and investigate a murder that happened almost three years ago?”
London shrugged. “Unless you think it’s too much of a challenge for you.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. You can’t play on my sense of competition.”
“Usual bet that you can’t solve it in under a week,” London shot back, leaning back in his chair.
“Usual bet,” James echoed.
“Yup.” London popped the last syllable for dramatic effect.
“Fine. I’ll go see what I can find out. Turn on the British charm on and uncover a mystery.”
“You’re a good man,” London said as he stood up. He clamped an arm on his friend’s back.
“Usual bet, London. If I win…” The sentence dragged on.
“If,” he emphasized with a wide smile.
London very rarely lost. But if he did? It would be a small price to pay. Rowing naked on the Thames was not what it used to be.
Chapter Seven
Bethany
A few boxes of takeaway Chinese were spread out on the coffee table. The spices danced on the air, making Bethany hungry again even though she had sworn, but moments ago, that she was full. There was just very little to do against the power of good Chinese food. She grabbed the container of orange chicken, the deep orange sauce calling her name. With a fork, she speared a piece of chicken and munched on it with a moan.
“I can’t eat anymore,” she said with a full mouth.
“I know,” Eugenie responded with her own mouth full of egg roll.
“Hey, save some for me,” Bethany quipped.
“We are two very sad ladies. Arguing over takeaway foods instead of being out on the town. I’m sure I can find us a hopping club in two seconds if I look at the right social media feed.”
“There is no way I am leaving this house. I am in my comfy sweats, and I have every intention of finishing this plate.”
Eugenie laughed and playfully tossed her a fortune cookie. “You’re the best friend a girl could ask for. That is exactly what I wanted you to say.”
“Ugh. I just need another shower to wash off that conversation, and I think I’ll be human again.”
“It was rather crude. If I didn’t know any better, I would think London Warwick is American.”
“Don’t be a snob,” Bethany laughed.
Eugenie loved nothing more than to tease Bethany about her American ways. It was always in good fun. Bethany was in a particular position. She had been born in England and lived there for the first few years of her life, with a brief period in Italy, another in France, and finally, she had spent her high school and college years in New York City. She had always come back to England. It made her feel connected to her father. The man had been a creative genius. He had been a renowned British nature photographer before succumbing to prostate cancer at a shockingly young age.
Her parents had split way before his death, when Bethany had only been four, but they had always gotten along for her sake. Her summers had been spent with her father, exploring all of the United Kingdom’s most secluded yet beautiful spots.
Bethany was half Brit and half American to a tee. She loved her tea strong, but she also adored chicken wings. She could no sooner pick her favorite place than to pick a favorite movie. It was just impossible.
“What are you going to do about the brute? You’ve already told Johanna that you’ll help. Can you go back on it?”
Bethany was just about to answer the question when the doorbell rang, echoing through their small townhouse. Eugenie waved her off, stuffing more naan bread into her mouth. Bethany quickly ran to the door to answer it. A messenger was standing on the landing with a small brown box under his arms.
“Delivery for Miss Bethany Russo.”
“That’s me.” She quickly signed for the package and rushed to the living room to tear into it.
“What did you order?” Eugenie asked, sitting up on their sofa. “Have you been Amazon-ing instead of sleeping again?”
“I didn’t order anything. This is kind of a surprise.” She ripped the tape and flicked the lid open. She gasped when she spotted the contents. She pulled one card from the inside. The card stock was thick and glossy. It bore the same logo as the one she had left in London’s house, but it had been refined. The silver embossing was beautiful and delicate, with just enough glimmer to catch the eye.
“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Bethany picked up the card that read:
I apologize for my behavior. You know where to find me.
“Oh! London Warwick sent you a gift to make up for being an absolute ass? That’s something.”
“Is it?” Bethany cut in. “I bet you anything this is a pattern for him. He fucks up, then he throws money at the problem, and no one dares to say anything about it. But no. This won’t work. My own business cards were just fine. It’s kind of insulting that he thought he had to replace them with something of more quality.”
“Is it?” Eugenie shook her head. “You got a good deal on those you got online, but these are awesome.”
“I’m not using them,” Bethany said. She got to her feet and rushed to her bedroom. She stuffed the box under her bed and rubbed her hands together, satisfied with her decision.
“You’re an idiot,” Eugenie sang as Bethany took her seat back on the sofa.