Thick as Thieves (The Greystone Family: Stolen Hearts #3)

Chapter 51

51

Xander

London - Russell House.

I prised myself off Evie and left her in the capable hands of Jonno. They were going for food with Tommy in tow. I’m desperate to see Kell to tell him the news, but I need to wait. And I’m not sure I’ll manage to contain myself. I feel like everything is about to burst.

“You telling him before or after?” asks Jase, slapping me on the back. He’s bursting with excitement himself.

“After. He needs his wits about him to deal with his mother,” I say, grimacing at the reminder of what’s about to happen. She’s such a pain. I think about the recent confrontations, how Rowena treated Evie and my boys. My blood starts to simmer. Evie was pregnant when they went for her, fucking idiots. So focused on themselves and how they feel, not remotely interested in what Evie was feeling.

Marcus said his mother has been calling non-stop. Demanding he go and see her. Hinting she has important news. He’s already there and as impatient as ever.

Marcus

where R U? hurry the fuck up

Me

On my way, baby

I add an emoji for good measure

Marcus

fuck off. Everyone’s starving

I stride into the house with Jase at my side. Casey, the butler who has met me loads of times, bows at me. Jase smirks at me as Casey announces us into the small library, running ahead to get my full title in.

“Viscount Sterling,” says Tim, bowing at me as I come to a halt.

“Fuck off, Tim.” I grin as I wallop him on the back.

Marcus faces the assembly, zeroing in on Rowena. “Right. We’re all here, Mother, so let’s eat. Get that gong rang. And you better have places set for everyone. We’re all eating together, none of this upstairs downstairs shit.” He rolls his eyes, dragging me into a bear hug.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak to her like that before. I push back from him and look him over. He blows out a breath as he scrubs his hands over his face and neck, but tries to smile at me. He seems stressed to death, clearly LA has taken its toll.

I bro hug Levi and Gabe. “All alright, Xan? You look weird,” comments Levi.

Marcus spins around again, studying me. “Let’s eat, for god’s sake, he's probably starving.” He’s pointedly loud near his mother, but turns towards me, saying quietly, “She’s up a height. Said we’ve had ‘criminal damage’ to the house. That’ll be what Evie did, I bet you.” He rolls his eyes towards his mother.

I turn away and look out the window before I accidentally blurt out the news. Jase keeps his eyes on me, worry lines appearing on his face. Marcus is intently studying me. He starts to run his hands through his hair, grabbing the back of his neck—his stress tells on display as his levels start to ramp up, again.

“What’s up, Xan? I thought you said everything was great. It hasn’t changed that fast has it? I know Evie is a maniac at times, but even for her that would be going some.” He’s trying to gauge my look.

I turn back and laugh, relief in every note of my voice. “No, all good on that front.”

He smiles at me. His eyes crinkling at the corners. Fucking hell, my heart is going into overdrive. Never mind women with hormones, I think mine are running riot. I see him frown at me, but he pats me on the back. We’ve never overtly displayed our relationship to others, and I’m not bothered about starting now. And certainly not here in this house with Rowena as part of the audience.

“Casey, ring that gong, man,” Marcus calls into the hall.

I hear quiet voices in the hallway, women’s voices. They move on and then Casey comes in.

“Just a last minute adjustment, your lordship.” Casey answers so formally, and as the butler leaves the room again, I see Levi and Gabe grin at Marcus. They’ve never gotten over Marcus being a Lord. To be fair, I don’t actually think Marcus thinks about it at all. Other than the bare necessities, he never does anything with his title. He leaves the estates to Bug, and all the other stuff to his mother. Although he says her bit is not really needed, she thinks it is.

“Ready for rockstar's answer to Downton?” He asks everyone, laughing.

Casey returns, sprinting in his usual manner. I think announcements are his favourite part of his job. It’s when he takes centre stage, and all eyes are on him. “The Dowager Countess of Stockton.”

Rowena regally glides into the room, but she’s not alone—she has a few courtiers in tow. We have an unwelcome, welcoming committee. Clearly Rowena doesn’t intend to tackle anything on her own. She’s assembled backup in the form of Chrissy, Isobel, and, of course, Betty. As it turns out, Betty—real name Bettina—is a second cousin once removed from Chrissy. What a surprise.

Casey announces them all formally as they file in. Betty baulks when she spots me in the room. They clearly didn’t expect me, and certainly don’t want me here. They need to slag me off and don’t want me here to witness, or contradict, it.

I smirk at her. “Betty, I’d like to say it’s nice to see you again, but I don’t actually think it is.” I say it so nicely, she smiles before her brain computes the words. I hear Tim try to stifle a laugh, and see Rowena frown at me. I’m supposed to put up and shut up. I’m Marcus’s toy, for him to use and abuse as needed, how dare I have an opinion, or a voice.

There’s a further knock on the door and yet again Casey has an opportunity to be the leading man. I have to say, his announcements are pure theatre. “His Lordship the Earl of Sutherland, Tarron Barclay, is here to see you ma’am,” he states imperiously.

I glance over at Marcus. “Did you call him?” I ask.

He nods. “I needed that package,” he says grimly.

“Fuck me,” I sigh out, looking to the heavens. How can you go from total heaven to pure hell in a few hours?

I hear Rowena gasp dramatically. “Do you mind, Xander. We don’t use that sort of language in this house.” Anyone would think she’s never heard an expletive. She must zone Marcus out. He’s the worst culprit.

“Yes we fucking do,” snaps out Marcus on cue.

Rowena turns her lips inwards. It’s not her house and she knows it. She doesn’t rule the roost. Marcus does. “Well I’d rather none of you boys use that language,” she explains primly.

My dad comes striding into the room, greets us all in his usual way, but pulls me into a hug. I could cry, the need to tell him he’s going to be a full one hundred percent, bona fide grandpa almost too much to bear. But I would never tell him in front of these people. I won’t share my joyous news here.

“I’ll help, son. Don’t worry, I’ll help.”

He steps over to greet the ladies, ever the gentleman. I see Chrissy fluff her hair before he gets to her. Not in this lifetime, I think, but watch as she makes a fuss over Dad.

“Can we please have dinner served now? Everyone is starving, we never ate on the plane, and I want to go home,” Marcus grumbles.

“You are home, silly boy,” Rowena answers, playing up to her audience, who all titter at her joke. “Of course we can start.” She indicates to Casey and then carries on with, “We need to talk, which we can do over dinner, but Marcus, just be prepared. We haven’t changed the room, so…”

She’s definitely a player of parts. At the minute, she’s a victim of a crime. Her eyes are wide and fearful, and she looks over at the three other women as they all grimace.

I wonder what I’m going to walk into.

“I hope it’s not like what she did to that dining room in Devon,” Gabe whispers to me. He pretends to swing a baseball bat, his eyes popping as he does.

We walk in, and the room looks… normal. Until you spot the poker coming out of the grandfather clock face. And a long-handled fork embedded in the face of a portrait.

Marcus walks over and inspects the clock. “Leave this here. No one is to touch it, and the same for the picture.” He sounds stern when he turns to his mother. I can see the relief on her face, she thinks he’s going to side with her. But I see the laughter in his eyes, he’s desperate to set it free.

“Yes of course, Marcus darling. I’ll contact the police in the morning, get a photographer in, and file a complaint,” she crows.

“No, no police. This is a family matter,” he commands. “I’ll deal with whoever did this.” He doesn’t reference Evie, and I notice Gabe and Levi passing confused looks between each other. They know he knows who did what. Rowena is looking even more relieved, and I see a grin pass between the other three women. What a set of bitches. Can’t wait to throw Evie under the bus. I see Marcus smirk to himself. His mother better get ready. If she thinks the poker is bad, this is getting worse for her.

We set about dinner, eating and talking. The banter is formal but light-hearted. I see Isobel desperately trying to get Marcus to talk to her one on one. “How’s Jude?” I hear him say, and just barely stop my laughter. He’d told me about Issy at the birthday party and what she tried to do.

“It’s over,” she says snippily. “I’m seeing George Newsome,” she adds proudly.

“Much more suitable for Isobel than the Greystone boy,” Chrissy pompously chips in.

“A lot poorer,” states Marcus. “Are you sure you can afford to downgrade? Newsomes are as poor as church mice. He asks me every quarter for money.”

Chrissy chokes on her food, as does Rowena. “Marcus, you should not cast lies about our friends,” his mother chastises.

He looks at her incredulously. “Tell him to sue me then, and I’ll produce every begging text and email he sends me. He has more sick grandmothers than anyone else on this earth. They must be medical phenomenons, they keep coming back from the dead.” Levi and Tim have tears coming out of their eyes, and are pretending their coffee has gone down the wrong hole.

Issy sits like we just turned her to stone. She didn’t know. I bet old George has been splashing Marcus’s cash. The Newsomes probably need Isobel’s big, but not huge, private income. But more importantly, they likely covet her perceived ‘connection’ to Marcus. Easier to tap up if you think you have an insider in your corner.

Marcus turns his attention to Bettina. “So, Betty, what are you doing here?” Marcus stares at her unblinking. I can see he’s had enough of the charade. She flinches a bit under the spotlight, and Marcus raises his eyebrows at her when she doesn’t speak.

Rowena interjects, “I asked Bettina to come. She has information I need you to hear. But to be honest, darling, I think we should do this in private.” Again the dramatic eyes and hands. “Some of this stuff is hard to hear, and you may not want everyone to know.” She looks furtively around the table as if no one can hear her.

“What, sort of information?” Marcus sounds bored, while Rowena’s caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. She doesn’t want to reveal her hand and talk about me. Just yet.

“Well, it’s very sensitive,” she proclaims, again giving her minions knowing looks.

“What? Like Xander, Evie, and I being together,” he says, directly and loudly, to his mother.

The whole table is silent now. No clattering of knives and forks, no low chatter. Total silence. I hear Dad choke on his steak. To her credit, Rowena does not look ruffled or flustered. She is a pro.

“Well, yes, just like that.” She looks over at Chrissy, who is looking a bit more uncomfortable and less confident. They were going for shock tactics.

“Well, it’s nothing that anyone here doesn’t know. We live with these men, they’re my bandmates. You may not know that we’re all together, but surely you saw the gossip from months ago. And she”—he points at Bettina—“saw it first-hand in Scotland. Not sure why she’s spilling the beans to you or anyone else, though, seeing as she signed an NDA.”

He turns his stare from Bettina to Tim. “Tim, can you call Patrick?” He then looks back at Betty. “That’s our lawyer, in case you’re not sure.” She looks horrified, and at Chrissy. Clearly they thought Marcus would be so shocked, he wouldn’t sue her for her breach of confidentiality.

“Darling Marcus, before you start calling lawyers, we need to explain to you what’s happened.” Rowena brings the conversation back to her, cool and calm. “Then you can decide about suing.” Betty and Chrissy look at her like she’s lost her marbles. But Rowena will never be cowed. “Everett,” she starts, and I close my eyes and count to ten in an attempt not to stand and shout at her. I’m just about to open my mouth when Dad puts his hand on my arm and shakes his head. I see Marcus look at me, with much the same expression on his face.

“Call her that again. I dare you, Mother.” He says it so quietly, with so much menace, she visibly shrinks from him.

“E, Evie has been seeing Xander, as apparently you know. But you may not know she was also seeing lots of other men. She was going on lots of dates from when you met her at Christmas right up until your birthday party.” She goes for the dramatic pause. Letting us have a chance to process her words and accusations. “Those twins ‘ came earl y.’” She rolls her eyes for emphasis. “It’s a well-known trick Marcus, saying they’re early when in fact they were full term.”

Again she lets her venomous words have time to percolate. Her entourage are hanging onto every syllable, as if it’s the first time they’ve heard it. She carries on building up to her dramatic ending. “Which would put the conception well before your birthday.” She sits back, triumphant in her deductions.

I can see Chrissy and the gang all agree with her, their faces smug, their heads nodding in the affirmative. And Isobel is positively smirking. Their eyes fix intently on Marcus, waiting for his reaction. And they’re all disappointed tonight, as his face is blank.

Rowena ploughs on, unaffected. “I invited her here, Evie”—she’s going for gold now—“for lunch. I also invited some doctor friends of mine to come and do a harmless test on the twins.”

I flinch at the tale she’s telling. She’s getting into her stride, still oblivious of the effect she’s having on Kell. A story, her version to be told.

“But she went mad when we asked her any questions.” Her arms are flapping crazily around. “Stole a book from Betty that had all the information about her in it. Smashed the place up. Assaulted both the doctors. Well, her man did one, she did the other. Attacked us all with a poker”—she points theatrically to exhibit A in the clock—“and forced Oisin to attack a doctor with a spoon.”

She pauses for dramatic effect. She’s elated, her colour high, she has the full attention of the room. It’s absolutely silent. Rowena assumes this is because we all agree with her at how terrible Evie is, and goes on.

“None of the Purcell boys would do what their grandmother Niamh asked of them. Now she’s lost her son and her grandchildren. No one is talking to her.” She’s raising her voice now. “Can you believe it? They all stood in front of Evie and those children, defending them against us. US!” she screeches. “Colm picked the lock on the toilet door and let out Orla, who we’d popped in there for her own safety. We’d heard about Evie smashing up a house in Devon, and then there was your car she flattened, so we needed her out of the way for her own protection.”

She actually believes this load of bunkum she’s spewing, and looks suitably indignant and proud of her actions.

I’m watching this woman sign her own death warrant with each tale against Evie, and she’s signing it in blood.

“I told her she was not to bring those, those children into my home again.” She flops back into her chair, as if reliving it was all too much. “She told me I would never see her or any of her children again. And now James is ignoring me. In fact, he’s blocked me.”

She takes a deep breath. “You need to tell him, Marcus, he must come and see me. As his grandmother, I’m inundated by requests for appearances with him.” She looks at her friends, a gloating look on her face. “Everyone at my club is asking me for his autograph, for their children and grandchildren. So popular, so good looking,” she says with pride in the grandson she threw out of her home thirteen years ago.

I smirk at that. Marcus sits and stares at her as if he can’t believe the tale he’s just been told. With his eyes focused on his mother he speaks to my dad.

“Tarron, did you bring that item I asked you for?” His tone is conversational, like he’s asking Dad about the weather in Scotland.

“I did, Marcus. But can I just say this first before you actually open it.” All the eyes in the room swivel to him. “Rowena, your husband was a good man. He knew about his grandson, as you know, and in the last few years of his life he had taken to following them around London.”

Marcus turns his whole body around to stare at Dad. Clearly he and I did not know that. Marcus looks upset. “What the fuck?” he says.

Dad just nods at him, a serious look on his face. One of compassion. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Marcus, but he swore me to secrecy one day when I saw him in a coffee shop. And I saw the boy.” He stops and I can see the tears in my dad’s eyes. “He looked so much like you when you were that age. And I saw her—only briefly—but obviously she’d been fourteen the last time I saw her. So I wasn’t sure if it was the same girl, but I assumed. She knew who your father was, and what he was doing. But she let it go, kept the same routine, so he would know where they were.”

He pauses whilst he gets himself together. His thoughts in order. The room is soundless.

“They never spoke. But on one occasion, when he was really ill, Henry fell in the park, and James picked him up. He’d be about twelve at the time. All Henry did was cry. About all the missed time, how beautiful the boy was, how he was grateful she never pulled him away or changed their routine. He said he was going to tell you, but made me swear never to breathe a word to a soul. But I think he got so sick so very quickly, he never got the chance to tell you.” Dad is stoic as he imparts his information.

I feel the wetness on my cheeks and see the tears on Marcus’s face. The atmosphere has totally changed in the room. Even Rowena looks upset.

“He never told me,” she says shakily, her drama put on one side.

“So why, with all this regret, you seem now to want to throw away another two grandsons, Rowena, I will never know. But I will take them.” He seems to sit up grander in the chair. “They are part of my clan anyway. As they were born on my land, they will always belong to me. They are mine, and I will take them as grandchildren to inherit some of my titles. Well, the titles Xan doesn’t want, anyway. Give the titles to the twins. Those boys belong to you and Marcus.

“Xander, you love them as much as Marcus does, and you both love their mother.” He stops and smiles at us both. “I’m already Grandpa Tarron to James and Bucky, and the Purcells. I will take all those magnificent boys.”

He stands and looks down at Marcus and then at me. “I didn’t agree with that.” He points to the envelope he’s given to Marcus. “But if it puts this total rubbish to bed, then so be it. I stood by all those years ago and never pushed Henry to tell you, and that was wrong. I should have shouted it from the rooftops. I have lived with that regret everyday. I will not make the same mistakes again.”

Turning to face Rowena, who’s sat like a statue in her chair at the head of the table, he imparts, “I just hope, Rowena, that you are happy on your own. If James is ignoring you now, once he knows the full extent of your actions and treachery, you will never see that boy again. He is his mother’s son, one hundred percent. There is no one more important to that boy than her. You’d do well to remember that. Even these two don’t register on that scale. Not compared to her.” His face is solemn, but his words are sincere.

I stand and hug my dad. The man is a colossus, and I love him.

I turn and see Rowena eyeing the unopened envelope.

“You had them tested and never said,” she hisses at Marcus.

“I didn’t need to. I knew they were my boys. I’ve always known it, but I also knew that someone would come for them, for Evie. I just didn’t think it would be my own family.” I watch as Rowena finally starts to see the writing on the wall.

“I’ve wanted Evie Greystone forever,” Marcus continues. “I love the woman. She married me because I wanted my son to have the title and he wanted to accept it. But not for himself, for my four other children who did not make it. Can you imagine what that was like, listening to your eighteen-year-old son tell you he wants it to honour his dead siblings. Children he did not know. He wanted to prove and show that he and his mother were above the petty squabbling and power games a title and money throws into a family. To be better. To be a bigger person than the family that had thrown him out as a child and disowned him twice .”

My dad apparently didn’t know this about James and Evie and he makes a growling noise in the back of his throat. I have to put my arm on him now, he’s looking daggers at Rowena and Co. They’re shrinking back faced with Marcus’s and my dad’s growing fury.

Marcus opens the envelope and slaps the sheet of paper in front of Rowena. “If you’d have asked, I would have told you. In fact, I did tell you long before the birth, and again after. I never opened this, because I knew they were mine. I didn’t need a piece of paper to tell me.”

Rowena scans the paper and starts to cry. She was so sure they were not his. “They brought me proof, showed me the book with all the events in it. Evie with Xander. They even brought men here to tell me how they’d been on dates with Evie and when. They said they could prove it.”

I look up at my husband, his stance dominant, authoritative. His alpha male in charge. His ‘do you know who I am?’ vibes battering us all with the Lord Stockton energy. I fucking love it. I move to stand next to Marcus, shoulder to shoulder, and sweet heaven, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips. And kisses it. I watch as eyes widen around the table, but not from our friends and bandmates.

“Xander and I love Evie. We’re all together. We live together, we love together. You need to accept it, Mother.” He shrugs. “To be honest, I don’t care if you do or don’t. She is right, you won’t see them again. Evie will never accept an apology after what you’ve done.

“And to top it off, Bug has been calling me. If my cousin tells me he’s leaving Eastwood, which I suspect he is, I will never forgive you for costing me my family.” His voice is not particularly loud. But the power in it pushes everyone back in their seats.

“Anthony has nowhere else to go. There’s no money in Ireland,” Rowena gets out desperately. Chrissy is nodding her head in agreement. Clearly they’ve been harbouring that as an excuse to hassle Bug in Yorkshire.

Marcus starts to laugh. “You have no idea who the Greystones are, do you? Evie will have offered him a house, a farm, his own place. She loves him with everything she is, and that is a massive love to be part of. And as for his boys, they are hers as much as theirs, they belong to her. So if I get that call from Bug, you better be off to Ireland, because you will not be welcome in Yorkshire at Eastwood anymore.”

He huffs out a sarcastic laugh. “So trapped in your own period drama. She’s still little Everett Parker, with a borrowed fucking dress shirt and holes in her boots. The girl who turned up for dinner.” He starts to bang at his chest. “She could have worn a fucking bin liner and I would have loved her, we both would.” He stops his fist on his heart. I can see he’s losing it, remembering that party night for his sixteenth birthday.