“It’s not snowing, Grandpa.”
“Eye of the storm, son! Eye of the storm.”
Derrick rolled his eyes and pulled me into a small alcove out of earshot. His hands rested on my shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Tessa. I didn’t know there would be other guests. I never would have—”
“Brought me here?” A tiny river of anger bubbled under my skin. He wanted me to meet his parents, but only under his conditions.
“No, that’s not it. The Snows are family friends. It’s true, there was talk years ago of Isabelle and I getting married, but it went nowhere. It would have been a merger between our families more than anything else, and I promise you, it was never what I wanted.”
I crossed my arms and stuck out my chin. “So you’re not planning a super-secret wedding you’re afraid to tell me about because I’ll unleash the fires of dark magic upon you?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “No, and while all of that sounds terrifying, whatever you heard, it’s in the past.” His thumb caressed my cheek. “You’re the future.”
Well, if he plans on saying nice things like that…
I cleared my throat and tried to stem the blush spreading across my cheeks. Now was not the time to go all swoony. There were still battles to win, and Derrick’s mother to meet.
“We can’t leave. It’s admitting defeat. Besides, there’s a chance I can win over your family. I mean, I won you over. I had to solve a murder to do it, and the chances of someone getting murdered out here are probably zilch, but I’m sure there are other ways. My immense charm, for example.”
Derrick chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “How could anyone resist?”
“Exactly.” I gave a curt nod. “Now, introduce me to your mother before I lose my nerve and run the mile to the neighbor’s house.”
He held out his hand, intertwined his fingers with mine, and led me out of the alcove.
A woman with graying hair wound into a tight updo stood next to Edward. She wore an ivory satin gown with matching pearls around her neck. The way she held herself was elegance personified, but the smile plastered on her lips hinted of obligation.
“Mother, I’d like to introduce Tessa Daniels, the woman I’m seeing.”
Edward clapped his hands. “Wonderful, my boy. Isn’t she lovely, Cynthia? A true beauty. Smart too, what with her partnering with the agency.”
Cynthia inclined her head. “Welcome to our home, Tessa. I hope you enjoy your stay.” She was the shell of a perfect hostess, making all the right moves, but lacking the warmth.
“Thank you… May I call you Cynthia?” I asked, reluctant to use her given name without permission.
“If you must.”
“Mother,” Derrick growled under his breath.
Cynthia ignored his dagger-eyed look and snapped her fingers until a young maid hurried into the room. “Mae, show Tessa to her room while I check on the preparations for dinner. Derrick, your father is in his study. I’m sure he’ll want to speak with you.”
The maid started up the grand staircase, and I was helpless to follow. Derrick gave me an apologetic look and disappeared deeper into the house to find his father.
Cynthia’s intentions were obvious: divide and conquer.
Maybe I should have bolted when I had the chance? But I’d made my decision, and even if I couldn’t charm Derrick’s mother, there was no way in hell I was letting Isabelle anywhere near Derrick. Over my dead body—or hers.
I tried to keep my gawking to a minimum as Mae led me to the guest rooms. The first rule of fitting in was to act like you belonged, and as my gaze roamed over the murals painted on the ceiling, I realized this would be the performance of a lifetime.
“You’ll be staying in here, miss.” Mae ushered me into a small bedroom—much smaller than the other rooms we’d passed. “The Snows are staying in the rooms down the hall. There’s a shared sitting room connecting their quarters, but you have a private balcony.”
“And Derrick?”
“The family occupies the second floor.” Mae moved through the room and pulled back the heavy drapes to reveal an oval-shaped balcony overlooking the gardens below. Manicured shrubs and stone statues lined a gravel path that led over a narrow walking bridge. In the summer, with the flowers blooming, the gardens must be stunning and full of life. But now, the snow-drenched scene held an air of solitude that bordered on melancholy.
The room itself contained little decoration besides a pastoral painting hanging above a four-poster bed. A large vanity had been placed near the wall in front of a floor to ceiling mirror, and beside it sat a floral-patterned chaise lounge. Next to the bed was an end table made of wood so polished it reflected the light from the flame flickering in the wall sconce.
