Now the sea called to me as I stood on the estate’s private beach, isolated, a speck against the vastness before me.
Aria Howard was right. I’d spent the last few weeks wallowing in self-fucking-pity. She was also wrong. It wasn’t just self-pity. Guilt had wrapped its hands around my throat, and I wasn’t sure how to loosen its grip. But I couldn’t go on like this.
Lying low didn’t mean giving up, and that’s what it seemed like I’d done.
My parents would be ashamed.
Of course, I didn’t know that for sure. But I liked to think the parents I remembered would be the kind who gave a shit about my life choices.
Without thinking （and in hindsight, probably stupid when I wasn’t totally sober）， I stripped to my boxer briefs, feeling the icy air prickle over my skin. It cut through the numbness.
I marched into the water, feeling the dichotomy of the gentle tide pushing around my ankles and calves against the burning, needlelike sensation of its wintry temperature. Gasping, I allowed my body a minute to get used to it before I dove into its depths. It was black under there, and I popped back up to the surface and did the front crawl until I was a hundred yards or so from shore. The pull of the waves was stronger here, but in my regular life, I swam every day if I could. Even still, a week of eating very little and drinking a shit ton made my limbs lethargic. The burn in my muscles as I fought against the strength of the water was satisfying as I swam to shore and then back out again, doing laps until I felt completely awake but heavy with physical exertion. Knowing when tiredness would become a problem in a place as unpredictable as the sea, I swam toward shore and trudged out onto the beach.
My chest heaved as I strode over to my clothes. But the swim had been worth it.
I pulled on my T-shirt and jeans and took my phone out of the rear pocket.
Aye, I was stuck at Ardnoch for a while, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t do something with my time here. For example, getting my bloody career back. I shot off a text to my agent, Harry, asking if it was too soon to send out feelers for other parts. So I’d lost Birdwatcher. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be other opportunities. I had to believe that I wasn’t entirely canceled. My publicity team handled my social media, and they’d posted to my Instagram a statement I’d approved. It was a denial of the allegations the tabloids had made and a reiteration that no charges had been laid against me.
It made me feel like shit even though, rationally, I knew it was the truth.
My PR team suggested I go silent for a while, so they hadn’t posted anything lately. After a quick look at the comment section of the statement, I decided not to look again. Diehard fans sent me love and offered their faith. But there was a lot of condemnation and disgust in the comments too. Someone had suggested I donate all my earnings to homeless charities. If only they knew I’d been donating a percentage of every payment I’d ever received since I’d started receiving wages to a charity in Scotland that fought for housing rights and helped house as many in need as they could. But I couldn’t say that without looking like a prick or providing an admission of guilt.
Soul heavy, I trudged back toward the castle, shivering in my wet clothes. Just as I reached the main entrance, my phone buzzed in my back pocket. It was a reply from Harry.
Just keep holding tight. I’ll be in touch.
Disappointment soured my gut alongside the remnants of the alcohol, and I typed out a quick OK and let myself into the building.
The grand reception hall was empty, though a fire crackled invitingly in the enormous fireplace at its center. Most of the members had left after New Year, which I was thankful for. Anytime I left my suite to go to the gym or pool, I was met with compassionate or curious looks that made my skin crawl.
Just as I was about to take the stairs to the second floor, I heard footsteps up ahead. Theo descended slowly toward me. “Fancy joining me for lunch? This script is fucking killing me, and I need a break.”
“Writer’s block?” I asked as we met.
My friend nodded, expression tight. “I need a scenery change.” He took in my appearance. “Did you swim in the sea?”
“Aye. Let me change.”
“You are insane.” He turned to follow me back up. “You’d have been quicker asking me to throw several buckets of ice water over you, and I could have taken perverse pleasure in your discomfort.”
I smirked as we ascended. Never in a million years would I think I’d be mates with someone like Cavendish. Second son of a viscount, his father and brother were members of White’s, an exclusive centuries-old gentleman’s club in St. James, London. King Charles and Prince William were members of the same club. Theo had grown up in a world so far removed from my own. Yet when I was cast in his show King’s Valley, we’d gotten along and had remained friends since. Despite outward appearances, I got the distinct impression Theo disliked the society he was born into. I’d noted most of his acquaintances were from diverse backgrounds while few were from his own.
“Cold-water swimming is good for you. I already feel better.”
He eyed me. “You do look less like you’ve spent months in a cave being buggered by a stalker.”
I grinned even as I retorted, “How the fuck did I get canceled when you go around saying shit like that?”
“Because I’m a charming Englishman.” He flashed me a humorless smile. “My accent makes everything less offensive.”
Shaking my head, I reached to pull the key card out of my back pocket just as the door swung open and a housekeeper stumbled out of my suite and into me. She held a bundle of sheets in her arms, so she had no way to stop her momentum. I quickly caught her by the biceps and steadied her.
The blond blinked up at me with stunning jade eyes. She was quite beautiful. So much so, it shocked me I’d never noticed her before. She swallowed, staring up at me in embarrassed horror as her cheeks flushed the brightest red I’d ever seen. My eyes drifted over her and I noted her name tag.
Sarah.
“Sorry, so sorry,” Sarah mumbled, lowering her eyes as she pulled out of my hold and moved to pass me.
Unfortunately, Theo was standing in her way. My friend gazed down at her with a sardonic expression, and I noticed her neck was flushed too. Sympathy filled me as she shimmied past him with a muttered apology, dumped the sheets on a trolley opposite the door, and darted away.
“Good God,” Theo drawled as we strode into my now extremely clean and tidy suite. “I can’t remember the last time I saw a grown woman blush like that. How mortifying.”
At his mocking tone, I cut him a look. “Be kind.”
“What?” Theo raised an eyebrow as he lounged in an armchair in the sitting room. “I just stated the obvious. If she can’t deal with celebrity, she shouldn’t be working in a place like this. I don’t want to imagine my housekeeper getting her rocks off cleaning my room.”
His arrogance irritated me. “I hate to break it to you, man, but no one outside the industry really knows who the fuck you are. You’re just jealous because she blushed for me, not you.”
“Jealous over that little mouse?” Theo sneered. “Please.”
“Sometimes you’re an utter arsehole, Theo,” I said conversationally as I grabbed fresh clothes out of the chest of drawers.