Falling for the Bridesmaid. Sophie Pembroke

He shook Tom’s hand with what looked like painful enthusiasm. ‘Boys, this is the guy I’ve invited over to write our musical life story.’

      ‘And your family’s,’ Tom put in. Violet rolled her eyes. As if any of them would forget that he was here to expose all their private lives as well as their public personas.

      ‘Oh, he’s here for the dirt, Rick.’ Jez—Uncle Jez to the girls—the band’s lead guitarist and Rick’s best man, elbowed his friend in the ribs. ‘Time to hide those skeletons in better closets!’

      Rick laughed, his head tipped back in pure amusement and joy. Violet bit the inside of her cheek and just prayed there wasn’t anything hidden there that she didn’t know about. She couldn’t imagine how there could be, given how closely she’d been involved in her parents’ lives and work since she’d moved back home eight years ago.

      But you could never be too careful when it came to the press. And if Dad had any secrets, Uncle Jez would be the one to know them.

      ‘Trust me, I’m just here to write the best, most honest story I can for your legion of fans. They’re only interested in the truth.’ Unlike Tom, presumably.

      ‘And that’s just what you’ll get.’ Rick clapped a hand on Tom’s back, and Violet knew the reporter had passed some test that no one but her father would ever understand. ‘The complete unvarnished truth, ready to be written down for posterity.’

      Relief warred with apprehension inside her, and Violet clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into the palms of her hands. On the one hand, the fact that her dad liked Tom would make the interviews go more smoothly, reducing the chances of a story about a recalcitrant, difficult star. On the other, it opened up the opportunity that Rick would get too close to Tom. As much as he talked about the unvarnished truth, surely her father realised there were some parts of their family lives, and history, that none of them wanted shared with the world. For the umpteenth time in some cases.

      Well, there was nothing for it now but to see how things went. And try and keep tabs on both Tom and Rick, so she could try and head off any prospective trouble before it turned up in the papers this time.

      ‘Darlings, you were brilliant as always.’ Sherry floated up to them, kissing each of the band members on the cheek before planting a rather more thorough kiss on her husband. Tom, Violet noticed, was politely staring at the floor. Everyone else was too used to it to even bother.

      ‘Mum, this is Tom Buckley,’ Violet said once the public display of affection was over. Might as well get all the introductions over in one go. ‘He’s the writer Dad—’

      ‘The writer who’s going to tell our little story! Of course.’ Sherry held out a hand, although whether she intended it to be kissed or shaken Violet wasn’t sure.

      Tom went for the handshake. Not fully charmed yet, then. Mum might have her work cut out with this one. Obviously he wasn’t taken in by her disingenuous description of his subject matter. Nobody in the world would describe the history of The Screaming Lemons and the Huntingdon-Cross family a ‘little story’. Least of all anyone who had lived it.

      ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Huntingdon-Cross,’ Tom said, releasing her hand.

      ‘Oh, call me Sherry, please.’ Mum flashed that legendary wide smile, the one that had been seen in magazines and on billboards for decades now. ‘Anyone who stays here at Huntingdon Hall rather automatically becomes part of the family, I’m afraid. You might as well get used to it!’

      Tom Buckley, part of the family? Not on Violet’s watch.

      But that was the problem with her parents. It wasn’t that they were overly trusting or naïve, particularly. They knew the dangers of fame as well as anyone, and took care to live their lives circumspectly. But once they’d taken someone in and claimed them as a friend...it took a lot to shake their faith in them. And that could be dangerous.

      ‘Where’s Daisy?’ Violet asked. She needed backup here and, with Rose and Will already gone on their honeymoon, Daisy-Waisy was going to have to be it.

      ‘Oh, she and Seb have already turned in, I think,’ Sherry said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘Daisy was exhausted, poor thing—pregnancy is extraordinarily tiring, you know,’ she added as an aside to Tom, who nodded, despite the puzzled crease between his eyebrows. ‘And I think Seb wants to get off back to Hawkesley first thing.’

      Curses. With Tom about to collapse from sleep deprivation, the chances weren’t good that he’d be up in time to meet Daisy before she left. Which meant Violet was on her own trying to keep this whole project from blowing up in their faces. Lovely.

      ‘And Rose has already left?’ Tom asked politely. ‘I met her in New York last month, and I know she’d planned to be here right through until the concert...’ He left the sentence open. Not actually a question, so not really prying, but enough that politeness insisted that someone fill the gap. Tricky.

      ‘Oh, yes,’ Sherry said, beaming. ‘She and Will left on their honeymoon a couple of hours ago.’

      Tom’s eyebrows inched up towards his hairline, and Violet winced. ‘Honeymoon?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t realise that she was planning a wedding.’

      Or that she was even dating anyone, just like the rest of them. In fact, Violet was willing to bet that what Tom really meant was: Two daughters married in a suspiciously short space of time, and one of them pregnant...there has to be a story here. Especially if he’d seen the photos of Will and Rose in the papers.

      Time to put a stop to that.

      ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, smiling cheerily. ‘Will has practically been a part of the family for years now. We’re delighted that they’ve made it official.’ All true—Will was part of the family—certainly more than Tom Buckley ever would be. And why did he need to know that up until the last month or so, Will had only been there as Violet’s best friend? And if he never realised that Will and Rose hadn’t met until Daisy’s wedding...well, that would be great. She just hoped that Tom Buckley didn’t keep up with the UK celebrity gossip too closely.

      Rick slung an arm around Tom’s shoulders as the rest of the band wandered off in search of a drink or a bed. He had to reach up quite a bit to do it, Violet realised.

      ‘That’s the only downside of having daughters, you know,’ Rick said, grinning at Violet. ‘Having to give them away to unworthy men.’

      ‘Oh, hush,’ Sherry said. ‘You know you adore Will. And Seb is going to be a wonderful son-in-law.’

      ‘True. I have lucked out.’ Rick turned his wicked grin onto Violet, and she felt her stomach clench at what he might come out with next. The inability to keep his inappropriate comments to himself was definitely a downside to the post-performance adrenaline. ‘Makes me worry who Violet might decide to bring home. I can’t possibly get that lucky three times in a row.’

      Heat flooded Violet’s cheeks. She’d spent more time blushing in front of Tom Buckley than actually talking to him at this point, she was sure.

      ‘Not something you need to be worrying about, Dad.’ Or be talking about in front of reporters.

      Rick’s face turned a little sad. ‘No, I suppose not.’

      ‘Anyway, Rose will be back soon enough, and you’ll be able to catch up with her then,’ Violet said with forced jollity. Tom gave her a look that left her in no doubt he knew exactly what she was doing—steering the conversation away from anything interesting. Violet made a mental note to warn Rose that it might look better if her whirlwind romance with Will hadn’t been quite so...whirlwind-like. Rose would understand. Once she got home, everything would be so much easier.

      ‘Actually, darling,’ Sherry said, her smile just a little too wide, ‘I spoke to Will as they were leaving. I understand they’re going to be away for four weeks.’

      Four weeks. Suddenly, with Tom Buckley