Page 92 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Lucian brought the attention back to him as he said, “Three weeks for Christmas gives me time to convince her to stay.”

Laughter rumbled from around the table.

Then, attention turned to Catherine.

She almost wished it hadn’t.

“You were late to church today,” Cecelia said.

Catherine shrugged. “Late night, Grandmamma.”

“Oh, why?”

Yikes.

“I was out with a friend,” she settled on saying. “We went to dinner, and then to a club.”

And then back to his place, Catherine added silently.

That’s why she had been late for church because she needed a proper dress. The one she wore to dinner and the club with Cross had not been appropriate at all.

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” her grandmother said.

The noise at the table stopped. Catherine did not miss the looks being passed between her uncles and father, not to mention the way Catrina smirked and reached for her wine glass. Even her older cousins quieted, but that didn’t stop Andino and John from shoving food into their mouths. The two men’s gazes darted between Catherine and Dante like they knew exactly what was going on behind the scenes in their family.

She supposed they probably did.

Catherine met her father’s stare from across the table. Dante’s posture and stone-still expression gave her a dozen warnings without saying a thing.

Do not mention his name at this table.

Do not say you’re seeing that man.

Do not.

She could hear exactly what her father was thinking. She didn’t need him to actually verbalize it.

Catherine figured now was as good of a time as ever to make her position clear with her family, and her father. Maybe then, Dante would finally back off.

“Catherine?” Cecelia asked. “Are you seeing someone?”

“Well … we’re trying things out again,” Catherine decided to say after a moment.

“Again.”

“She’s talking about the—”

“Hush, Andino,” Giovanni barked from his seat.

Andino shot his father a glare, and shoved another forkful of potatoes into his mouth, mumbling, “Fine.”

“Cross Donati,” Catherine told her grandmother. “Do you remember him?”

For a second, Cecelia couldn’t hide her surprise. Her gaze widened, and her mouth popped open as her gaze drifted to Catherine’s father, but her grandmother quickly schooled her expression. “Well, yes. I think we all remember that young man.”

Catherine smiled. “Saves me the time of explaining, then.”

“Catherine, can I speak to you for—”