Page 86 of Promise of Punishment

The brightness in her eyes surprised me. I’d never seen her look so happy. The stress lines that she often carried between her brows were gone. She was dressed in her usual blazer, Oxford shirt, and tailored pants. “Hi. Wow! You look…”

“Different?”

“Better.”

“You too.” She walked to me and kissed both my cheeks. “And you must be the reason why my brother looks less pissed at the world.” She put her hand out to Fable. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Fable shook her hand.

“What do you think of the place?” Tessa gestured around with a grim expression. “Better yet, what do you think we should do with it?”

“If I say burn it, will you help me light the match?” I threw out, only half teasing, and turned. “Follow me.”

With my little angel’s hand firmly in mine, I led the way to the bar in the gentlemen’s parlor. A few carafes of liquor sat on a shelf. I poured two tumblers of bourbon for Tessa and me.

“Nothing for you?” she asked Fable.

“No. Thank you.” Fable placed her hand over her belly, even though she wasn’t showing.

“Oh gosh. Forgive me. I completely forgot. You’re pregnant. Congrats!” Tessa kissed each of Fable’s cheeks. “I suppose that makes me an aunt to be.”

We clinked glasses and downed the double shots. I set the tumblers on the bar. The small staff I paid to maintain the house’s upkeep would take care of them.

After some light catching up while we strolled out back, neither of us wanting to be in the house for longer than necessary, we ended up on the terrace overlooking the garden.

“I forgot how much land was here,” I murmur at the miles of lawn. You can’t see the abandoned garden from the manor.

“At least it’s not hot,” Fable says. We got another heat wave in New York, and Fable just can’t stand it, with the pregnancy making her run hotter than usual.

As she says it, a breeze whisks fallen leaves and dried flowers across the terrace.

“I don’t think you should give the estate to Mum,” Tessa says, staring at the horizon where the sun starts its descent.

“Me neither.”

“But I don’t think you should burn it, either. The land has history. Hale family history that doesn’t include our horrid parents.”

“I don’t want to live in it, Tessa.” A hint of emotion leaks into my voice.

Fable puts her arm around my waist, tucking herself against my side in a way I love.

“Well…” My sister looks back at the manor, taking in its many windows. “Donating it to a trust or opening it to the public are always options.”

“I was thinking about turning it into a homeless shelter.”

A laugh bursts out of her, hard and loud enough to flush her cheeks. “Father would hate that.”

Her reaction tugs up my lips. Mummy would have slapped her face had she laughed like that when we were growing up. It shows how comfortable she is with herself now.

“What about a shelter for battered women?” Fable suggests.

For a moment, neither of us says anything.

I’ve never considered that. From the shock and delight on my sister’s face, neither has she.

“It’s actually perfect.” I squeeze the side of Fable’s waist. “Hale Manor, once a place of debauchery, now a sanctuary for women in need.”

“Really?” she asks, surprised.