Page 251 of A Vicious Love

The words alone exhausted me.

“Since the storm has cleared, we’ll follow the revised schedule. Children’s lake walk first, including frogs, for those already impatient.”

The children cheered.

I suffered.

“Then the garden tour before lunch. Family lunch on the south lawn. Rowing on the west lake afterward. Archery in the late afternoon. Drinks on the terrace at six. Dinner in the main house. Cards in the evening.”

I stared at him.

All day.

The torture never ended.

Sienna looked at me with a mixture of amusement and worry. “You don’t have to come to all of it.”

Her thumb moved across my hand.

But she was going.

That was the real problem.

Every ghastly event on that list included Sienna. Sienna by the lake. Sienna in the garden. Sienna rowing, which meant possibly wet hair. Sienna at archery, which could be useful if her form required correction. Sienna at dinner. Sienna at cards, where I could sit close enough to keep her hand in mine.

My answer was obvious.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

SIENNA

Jamison Crow survived dinner with my family. He sat through all the courses, speeches, one disagreement about whether the west garden hydrangeas had been pruned too severely, and my mother’s seven-minute explanation of the candle order for the evening table without once overturning a chair or reacting.

By the time the dinner plates were cleared, I had stopped waiting for Jamison to stand. Hope had a way of sneaking in when shock grew tired.

My father lifted his glass and said, “Cards in the east salon in twenty.”

And Jamison said, “Fine.”

As if fine was a normal response from a Crow who had spent three years avoiding every Bellemere room.

My fork slipped against my dessert plate.

He looked at me from beside my shoulder, black shirt open at his throat, one hand resting near his glass. His expression was bored in the way Jamison often looked bored before ruining lives.

“What?” he asked.

“You agreed to cards, with my family. Voluntarily.”

His mouth curved. “Careful, baby. You look concerned.”

I leaned closer to him, lowering my voice. “You don’t have to come.”

His eyes came back to mine.

Far too focused for a candlelit family table.

“Are you going?”