I was on my feet immediately, ready to defend my sister and to stop Chantelle from saying anything more.

'Mandy –' I began.

It seemed that I had nothing to worry about.

Rather than letting the insinuation linger in the air where it might do my family harm, Beth gallantly retorted, 'Do I look like the sort of person who has private lessons from anyone? You need to check your sources, Chantelle. It doesn't sound like they know what they're talking about.'

Chantelle didn't have the opportunity to argue. Once she looked in my direction, the sheer fury I felt towards her was clear. Cowed, she fell silent, and I hoped she would continue to keep her bile to herself for the rest of the night. Charlie and I would have some choice words about her attitude in someone else's home after our guests had departed.

To further show where my loyalties were for the evening, I stood beside Beth once she'd retrieved my sister's bow from the floor and returned it. 'I hope you don't mind playing with an amateur. I'll be relying on you to make me sound better than I really am.'

Mandy smiled and my heart warmed to Beth again. 'You shouldn't have so little faith in your skills. Don't forget, I've already heard you play once.'

'You heard me butcher a piece of art once,' she corrected.

'We'll have to agree to disagree on that. But I think you'll find that William enjoyed your playing as much as I did.'

'Enjoyed is a strong word,' I teased. Gently, I squeezed Beth's shoulder. I felt a rush of affection for her that I could never truly convey and certainly wasn't willing to in front of her father, but I hoped that the tenderness of my gaze and touch reached her. That she would understand just how grateful I was for her intervention on my sister's behalf. 'What are you thinking of playing for us, Bennett?'

'How do you feel about Scarlatti's Sonata K thirty-nine?' Mandy suggested.

'I was hoping we could play Born to be Wild, but it's a good second choice.'

Of the pair, it was clear that Mandy was the stronger performer. She'd been putting on shows for our family and guests for years, and it showed. My sister was confident in every draw of the bow, every flourish, and every note. At first, Beth was nervous and hesitant. It wasn't a piece of music that lent itself to such playing and she relied on my sister to carry her forwards. As they continued to play, Mandy's infectious confidence and energy reached Beth. She struck the keys with renewed vigour, losing herself to the composition. To her, the rest of the world must have melted away. There were only the two of them and the music that they were reciting, and it was a glorious sight to behold. It was less about the piece and more about the people playing it.

About the liberation that it gave them to put their hearts and souls into music, to express themselves so completely and openly.

I wondered if Beth knew just how beautiful she was when she was in the throes of a symphony.

Just how free she was.

How she made me fall in love with her all over again.

We applauded when they finished, but I couldn't find the words to express just how much she'd moved me. Beth's father was the first to offer his compliments, and I was pleased that he was a supportive, kind man.

'That,' he said enthusiastically, 'was much better than spending a night in front of the television. You were fantastic, girls. Really.'

'Thanks, Mr Bennett,' Mandy replied. It had been many years since she'd received fatherly praise and the words made her cheeks glow with delight. She set her violin and bow back into their case carefully. 'You haven't seen the house yet, right? How about a tour?'

'I'd love that, thank you.'

'And, you know, Henry told me that Beth didn't have time to see the grounds the other day. Maybe Will could show her?' Mandy suggested nonchalantly. There was nothing innocent about her voice, nor the way she smiled at Beth.

Mandy wanted to give us some time alone so that we could talk. While I appreciated the gesture, I wished that she could have been subtler about it. Regardless of my feelings on the matter, Beth offered no objections, and I couldn't find an excuse not to go. It was dark outside but there were enough illuminations to guide us. Even if Beth didn't want to speak to me, she could appreciate our surroundings before returning to the house.

It didn't escape my notice that Chantelle tried to follow us out of the house. I only needed to look back over my shoulder in Charlie's direction for him to understand that this was entirely unacceptable. He grasped her wrist and dragged her back into the house while muttering apologies. I couldn't be sure if he was sorry for her attempt, her comments, or her behaviour in general. Whatever it was, I appreciated that he'd read the situation well enough to know that I didn't want to be burdened with Chantelle's company until I was sure that she regretted her actions.

Beth took the lead, walking ahead of me and trying to keep a safe distance. I had no intention of disrespecting her need for space and matched her pace a few steps behind. Beneath the twinkling strings of lights looped into the branches overhead, she looked like a true romantic heroine, dusted in starlight and lost in her thoughts and dreams. She brought her arms around herself and I had the urge to run back into the house to find her a jacket. I resisted. Although it would have been the gentlemanly thing to do, I didn't want to lose a moment with her. If this was to be the last time we were in one another's company, then I wanted to remember every perfect second of it, and I wanted to remember her just as she was.

Beth glanced back at me over her shoulder and I felt that I should say something to put her at ease. The point of us being alone had been to talk, and it only seemed right that there should be a conversation. 'Your friends seem fun.'

'They are,' Beth agreed.

'A lot of them are guys.'

'You noticed that, did you?' she asked.

'Is that Lewis kid your boyfriend?' I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Thankfully, Beth snorted softly with laughter. 'No. We have a history.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. It was really heated, you know? So much passion, and we were going to run away and get married. It was all so romantic.' Beth sighed dramatically. 'Naturally, it ended in tragedy.'

'You're joking.'

'No. It's all true. I mean, I was ten so I should've known it was doomed to fail.'

I knew that I shouldn't have risen to the bait.

'Funny. Hilarious. You could have just said you didn't have a boyfriend.'

'I never said that,' she countered.

'So, you do?'

We hadn't been separated that long, and she'd not had anyone in mind when she left Paris as far as I knew. It was possible that she'd reconnected with Freddie via email, or that one of the surfers had since caught her eye. I didn't know what I'd do if it was Eric. He seemed as bad as my cousin when it came to his wandering gaze.

Beth laughed and put me out of my misery. 'No. I'm incredibly single. And I think I'm going to stay that way for a long time.'

'All right, I get it. I'll stop asking,' I said. I didn't know that I could handle her teasing anymore. 'So, what was that with your Dad before?'

Beth stopped and leaned back against a nearby tree. I paused, waiting to hear what she might have to say. While I'd suspected that their conversation might have held some deeper meaning, I hadn't thought that it might be painful for Beth to discuss. I'd have taken the question back if I could, or told her that she didn't need to reply if it would only serve to hurt her. I opened my mouth, intent on putting her at ease, but she spoke before I could get a word out.

'I used to take piano lessons when I was little. And guitar. And singing. I'm also pretty good with a triangle, but I don't like showing off.'

'And you quit?' I surmised.

'My teacher did. You met her, actually.'

I hadn't met many people in Beth's social circle thus far, and it was easy to narrow it down. It wouldn't have been her friends at school, nor a teacher she'd barely known all that long. Beth had also said her, ruling out her father and male friends.

That only left one person.

'Your mother taught you?' I asked.

'She used to be a singer. Most of her stuff flopped, but he had enough one-hit-wonders that most of my Dad's generation knows who she is. The money ran out fast, but she's still riding her fame where she can.' Beth shrugged like it was nothing, but I could tell that it bothered her. No child wanted to admit that their parents were lacking. 'I guess that's why she likes marrying rich guys. It reminds her of the good old days.'

I was surprised. Beth's mother didn't lend herself to the role of teacher. The only thing the woman appeared to be good at was snagging wealthy husbands and running their bank accounts dry. After meeting Beth's father, I'd begun to wonder what she'd seen in him. He was a good man, but he didn't scream millionaire.

'Doesn't your dad own a garage?'

'He was a racer. Lots of sponsorship deals, world travel, and nice shiny trophies. Mum liked the lifestyle, and he liked having her waiting in the pits for him when he won. They had me. But he kept on racing. We had to stay home because I was too little to go along to the competitions. Mum let me watch them on television. I remember the last race I saw him in...'

The way that Beth trailed off filled me with dread. Nothing good came from a sentence like that. Children didn't remember specific races or events in clear detail unless there'd been something different about them. Something monumental. Something traumatising, perhaps. Beth wrapped her arms around herself as though they could provide some warmth and comfort. Like she was trying to shield herself from the memory of that particular race.

'He was out on a wet track, but he was doing okay. It wasn't like he hadn't raced in those conditions before. He could have made the podium, but the driver ahead lost control and rolled his car. Dad swerved, but the car behind didn't change course in time. He rear-ended Dad so hard that it flipped the car and sent him into the barrier.'

'How old were you?' Concern was etched into my voice and expression.

'Nine.'

'And your father?'

'Was told he couldn't race again. Broken legs, broken back, the works. When the doctors said that he might not walk again, Mum packed her bags and moved out. We moved in with my grandfather at his garage while Dad recovered. I was too little to do much to help, but I tried. I mean, at least I stuck around, which was more than she did. She's been marriage-hopping ever since.'

I thoroughly despised Beth's mother.

While I understood Beth's pain in some sense, having lost my own father, at least I'd known that he loved us. He hadn't left our family of his own free will. To his dying breath, he'd wanted to be with us, in our lives, to love us unconditionally. My father was one of the best men it had ever been my pleasure to know, and the world was poorer for not having him in it.

Beth, too, had lost a parent. But she had lost her mother to selfishness and greed. I could understand struggling emotionally seeing your spouse in physical pain, the fear that anyone would feel upon witnessing such a horrific crash and the resulting injuries, but not that she had walked away. Not only had she abandoned a husband who loved and relied on her for support, but a child who was too young to know why her mother's love had an expiry date, why she didn't want to be around her anymore.

Poor Beth, how broken had her heart been when she realised that her mother wouldn't come home?

'Does your grandfather still live with you?'

'He died before I went to boarding school and left the place to my Dad. He still likes being around fast cars, but all his trophies are in boxes in the loft. I think it hurts him too much to look at them.'

'Is that why you gave up taking music so seriously?' I asked. 'Because you were too busy helping your Dad?'

The pain on Beth's face was palpable. Vulnerable though she might have been, she wasn't above raising the barriers that she'd built around her heart to defend herself. She lied, 'It was just something I played around with. I never took it that seriously to begin with.'

'I don't believe that.'

'Yeah, because you're stubborn,' Beth laughed. 'You don't believe much of anything about me.'

'I believe that you like playing the piano more than you let on,' I asserted. 'And that you could make a career out of it if you trusted in your abilities a little more.'

'Maybe,' she conceded only that much. 'But I'm also a realist, and I don't want to turn into my mother. If I can make a modest career out of music then, great. If not, I'm okay with taking over the garage from Dad. I'd rather make an honest living than have a fortune and no morals like her.'

I'd promised myself that I would respect her space and boundaries, but I also had a heart. No one could ignore the way that her lip trembled in sorry and anger, how her eyes sparkled with unshed tears that she was desperately attempting to will away. I stepped forwards and placed my hand on her arm. It was a gesture that said more than words ever could; that I was sorry that she had experienced something so painful, and that she was a better person than she believed herself to be.

'I don't think anyone would ever accuse you of having no morals, or of turning into your mother. I also want to thank you, Bennett.'

'For what?' she asked.

'For not talking about Gideon in front of my family.'

'Well, I'm not really part of his fan club anymore.'

'I'm relieved to hear it,' I said.

That was the best that I could have hoped for from Beth. It was a weight off my mind to know that she was safe from Gideon's reach, that she didn't despise me so much that she hadn't batted my hand away from her arm, and that she trusted me enough as a friend to open up to me. I felt that we were more equal than we'd ever been. Everything we'd hidden about ourselves was there for the world to see. I was honoured that she'd forgiven me enough to let me in.

Beth let out a soft breath. 'I'm sorry I slapped you, by the way.'

'I deserved it.'

A few months prior I'd have denied this but, since talking to Mandy and replaying the scene over in my head, I knew that it was true. The things that I'd said were deplorable and I wouldn't have blamed Beth for doing more than just leaving me with a handprint on my face.

'I can't disagree,' she said. There was a pause, as though Beth was trying to find the courage for whatever she was about to say. I didn't interrupt or rush her, and at length, she told me, 'I'm going to be down at the beach again tomorrow morning.'

'Surfing with your friends?'

'No, the water's too cold for me that early. I usually walk down to watch the sunrise.'

'Alone?'

Beth laughed softly. I could have listened to her laugh for hours. It was fast becoming my favourite sound in the world. 'Do you always ask so many questions?'

'Only when I want to get to know someone better.'

Despite the darkness, I detected a faint blush on her cheeks when she said, 'If you can get up early enough, meet me at the café at five.'

'What for?'

If I hadn't felt her lips against my fingers, I'd have thought that I was dreaming. Just as I had made peace with the idea that Beth Bennett, the girl who'd filled my head and heart for months, would never look at me as anything more than a passing acquaintance, she surprised me with a kiss to my hand. My breath hitched at the back of my throat and my mouth was dry. I couldn't say a thing to express my feelings, and could only meet her gaze with wide-eyed hope and confusion.

She gazed right back and said, 'I want to show you why this place is so special to me.'

Oh, if only she knew, this place had become infinitely more special to me the moment that I'd discovered that it was her home.