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She didn’t wait for Satrine to confirm this.
She whirled back to Ansley and finished.
“It probably wasn’t abhorrence of twins. It was probably because he was tight-fisted with anything, unless it served his own pleasure. One child was drain enough on his vast fortune, but two? I cannot even begin to imagine what Corliss was thinking when she took him. Then again, he had the uncanny ability to charm the pants off a snake when he had a mind to.”
“Wow, you haven’t changed,” Satrine remarked.
Mary stepped back smartly, staring at her suspiciously.
“How would you know? I’ve never met you,” she snapped.
“Father told me all about you. I was supposed to pretend to be Maxine. He said I’d eventually meet you. He spent three weeks instructing me on everything I was supposed to know to be her,” Satrine replied.
“Humph,” Mary returned. “This is all tied up in why that cox-comb is currently gracing one of our handsome king’s lowlier institutions, I gather?”
“Yes,” Satrine confirmed.
Mary lost some of her spectacle and asked quietly, “Word is running amuck. I have acquaintances who’ve even seen her on the street. Your mother lives?”
Hesitantly, Satrine smiled and nodded.
“By Brigid,” Mary whispered.
“Would you like to sit with us and have a cup of coffee?” Ansley offered.
“Huh! A lady doesn’t drink coffee in the mornings. She drinks tea!”
Satrine’s gaze flew to Loren, and she looked close to dissolving into laughter.
“You there!” she shouted at Eaton, who was five feet from her. “Bring me a pot of tea.”
“Right away, milady.” Eaton bowed and escaped.
Loren was reminded of a thought he’d had weeks before, and the fact he was incorrect.
He had heard a lady shout, for he’d been around Mary Livingstone.
“Look at you,” Mary complained, regard fastened on Loren as she rounded the table. “You’re ridiculous,” she stated.
Satrine’s back slammed straight.
Mary seated herself and said to Ansley, “Really, Ansley, a man that handsome? It cannot be borne. You should have done something.” She sniffed. “A scar from a blade, or mayhap, acid.”
Loren watched Satrine relax, a smile playing at her mouth as she sank back into her chair.
After both ladies were seated, the men joined them.
Now Mary was studying Satrine.
“It’s uncanny,” she said softly.
“Hmm…” Satrine hummed noncommittally.
“I visit your sister on the regular,” Mary announced.
Satrine’s expression gentled at this news.
“Or I did, until Edgar put a stop to it,” Mary continued.
Satrine didn’t gentle at that.
“She’s home with us now, Aunt Mary,” she said. “And flourishing.”
“This, too, is unsurprising. Corliss doted on that girl. She was her very life.”
Satrine pressed her lips together.
“Sweet child, she is. So very sweet,” Mary muttered to herself, but did it gazing at Satrine. She turned that gaze to Ansley. “A miracle, my good man.”
“Agreed,” Ansley replied.
Satrine ducked her head, likely to hide as she controlled her tears.
Loren stretched his leg to rest his boot beside her foot.
When she felt it, she pressed that foot closer.
And then Loren resumed eating.
Chapter Eighteen
Choice
Satrine
Loren and I sat in the carriage, practically fused to each other’s sides, and I was as enthralled as he in how he was fiddling with my fingers.
“I daresay…”
I blinked and my head came up to see Aunt Mary sitting across from us.
I was so into my guy, I totally forgot she was there.
Then again, my guy was life. All broody, needing-me, hot-AF-in-bed, romantic, dashing, with a healthy dose of kickass vigilante thrown in, who could blame me?
Mary had her own carriage but demanded to ride with us when Loren escorted me the short distance home, completely oblivious (or not?) to the fact that we might want some privacy while that happened considering I actually didn’t need an escort at all.
Fortunately, this had given me the opportunity to run some interference. This interference took the form of me writing a heavily nuanced note to Mom about the fact Aunt Mary was in town and she was to stay with us, and then we sent her carriage ahead of us.
I just hoped Mom was preparing, and not freaking.
But considering how I felt when I first laid eyes on Dad’s aunt, I had a feeling she was.
Aunt Mary, a woman who was born closer to Dad’s age then my granddad’s, so she was more like an aunt/sister to him. A woman who was totally OTT, but in a hilarious way. A woman who was sharp as a tack, and therefore had Dad’s number (to the point she tried to warn Mom off in the beginning, alas, Mom was in love with a charming snake, so it didn’t work).
A woman we got after the divorce because she loved us, we loved her, and we all shared something huge: We all kept hoping Dad would be a good guy when he just wasn’t.
This world’s Aunt Mary, one could say the drama was at fever pitch.
But she was a scream, and more, it seemed so far so good with Mom and me not getting found out.
