Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90426 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90426 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“I’ll go make us all some tea,” I decided.
“The house servants are still here, my lady,” Loren noted.
Get yourself together, girl.
“Right, right, then I’ll call for some tea.”
I went to the cord Edgar always pulled when he wanted something, and I pulled it.
I turned back to them.
“So the guy…uh, guy-er-guard who was watching them?”
“He’s been neutralized,” Loren said quickly.
“Neutralized?”
“He’s lying in a pool of his own blood downstairs. We’ve called for the mortician. That’ll be cleaned up in a jiffy,” new hot guy said.
I wasn’t sure what I did just then, but I knew my mouth was hanging open while I did it.
“Loren is a no muss, no fuss kind of chap,” new hot guy shared while sauntering to an armchair and throwing himself in it sideways, one long, substantial leg tossed over an arm, the other stretched out on the floor.
Stiffly, my body, and eyes, shifted to follow his voice and his movements.
“Allow me to introduce you to my friend, Marlow Gladstone, the Baron of Maitland,” Loren drawled.
“Errrrrrmm…” A girl in an outfit a lot like the one at Ansley’s house, except the dress was gray, and the cap had no ribbon in it, was standing at the door.
She stared at me.
Yes, I’d been kept under wraps.
Food was served, but I was always out of sight when it happened, and the halls were cleared when I was in them.
Dad-not-Dad was taking no chances.
“Could you bring us some tea?” I asked. “And scones, jam, cream, that sort of thing,” I added, since I was starving.
“Excellent, cream tea at ten in the morning. I like this one, Lore,” Marlow Gladstone declared.
Fantastic.
They only did those teas at a certain hour.
Well, whatever.
I was the lady of the house, in a sense, at least for now, so I could do what I wanted, and we were having it at ten in the freaking morning.
“Yes, um…milady?” the maid asked after the fact if I was, indeed, her lady.
I nodded to her.
She scurried away.
The men were all regarding me.
“Father was stingy with who he allowed to see me,” I explained, and at least that wasn’t a lie.
“Ah,” Ansley murmured, then took his own seat.
Loren decided to grace another doorjamb, which was a good call, he looked fab doing it.
Though, it was disconcerting that his eyes never left me as he was doing it.
Until his head turned abruptly right before…
“Excuse me.”
A man appeared in the doorway wearing the same exact outfit as the bad guy in the Aristocats and looking more than mildly miffed.
But he’d lost his officiousness as he stared in shock at me.
“Lady Maxine?” he breathed.
“No, Lady Satrine,” I stated, like he should know better (fake it ’til you make it, girl). “And you are?”
“Wishing to know who you are,” he retorted.
“Edgar Dawes’s other daughter,” I replied, like I was reminding him.
Total confusion, unsurprisingly. “His other—?”
“I answered. Your turn,” I cut him off.
“Carling.” He squared his shoulders. “I run this house.”
“Then you’ll see to it that my mother and sister have something suitable to wear after their baths, but more importantly, a hearty meal,” I ordered.
His face paled. “Your mother…”
“Father faked her death. I’m sorry, I know this is a shock. But I must ask you to get over it and take care of them. Father imprisoned them downstairs and—”
He looked away and hissed to himself, “I knew there was someone down there. He’s always got something going on down there.”
That didn’t sound good.
“Well, yes, you were right,” I declared imperiously.
“And you, you were in her rooms,” he went on.
“Yes again,” I confirmed.
“We thought it was one of his mistresses,” he shared.
Ick.
Moving on!
“It wasn’t. It was his daughter. Me. Now, they’ve been poorly handled. We must see to them.”
Something else swept his face.
Something awestruck.
Hopeful.
“Lady Corliss is…here?”
“Yes,” I said softly. “And Maxine.”
“She’s with her Maxine,” he whispered solemnly.
My stomach clutched.
Something was not right here, something tragic and awful.
Carling pulled me out of these thoughts as he snapped to attention to the point I heard the heels of his shiny shoes click together, and he stated, “They are of a late fashion, but we never disposed of the lady of this house’s wardrobe. We will see it unearthed. We will see it freshened. And immediately, I shall call the modiste and tell her to attend the lady urgently. We will outfit the countess as she is—”
“Carling,” I called.
“Yes, milady?”
“Just clothes and food for now, please?”
He nodded. “Right away, madam. Tout de suite.”
And then he bustled off.
Right, I made it through that.
And I needed a break before whatever came next.
I made my way to the settee, and fortunately my dress was so tight, there was no other way to collapse onto it except gracefully.
This, I did.
I pulled out the hatpin, threw it in a bowl that sat on the table in front of me, swept off the hat and sent it sailing.