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“It blends in with its surrounds,” I said. “Burnt-out city types like the rustic feel. They’re surrounded by slick, clean lines. People like contrasts.”
“Is that why you’re seeing that folk singer?”
Her acidic tone made my spine stiffen. “It’s none of your business.”
Eyeliner accentuated her large dark eyes, capable of freezing with just one glance. “Oh, but it is, sweetheart. While you live under my roof, you play by my rules, which have always been pretty loose.” Her dark, well-shaped eyebrow raised. “I’ve turned a blind eye to the many women you’ve entertained. Women from good families, whom I hoped you might’ve proposed to by now.”
I shifted my weight and rolled my eyes.
“What is it with all of you?” She sighed. “Declan married that maid. Your sister and those detestable tattooed thugs, and now you with a farmer’s daughter-slash-pagan.” She scowled like she’d swallowed something rotten. “What next? You prancing naked around a fire under a full moon?”
I had to laugh at the ridiculous image. “I’m not that religious ritual type of person, Mother. And Mirabel’s not into witchcraft. She’s intelligent, talented, and she gets me.”
Disbelief spread over her face as she glanced over at Will, who sat quietly absorbed, as though watching a performance. I’d never heard him express any opinion other than a nod.
“She gets you?” My mother scoffed. “We sent you to the best schools, and that’s how you define this unfortunate and incomprehensible attraction?”
“We haven’t exactly been exposed to great role models.” I looked up from the globe on the desk and stared her in the eyes.
My mother wrung her hands. “What happened with your father was unfortunate.” Her mouth formed a tight line. “It wasn’t by my design. He married me that way, without ever telling me.”
My stomach sank at the mention of my father. It wasn’t an easy subject. And as my eyes settled on my mother’s, I noticed a hint of sadness.
My heart knotted. She was my mother, and deep down, I wanted her to be happy, regardless of her toughness towards us and her inability to show maternal warmth.
“I understand that wouldn’t’ve been easy,” I said at last. “But you were together. I mean, he was our father.” That came out as a statement, despite a question still lurking in the shadows.
“He was definitely your father. You keep asking. I might have made a few bad calls in my life, but cheating on my husband was not one of them.” Her gaze shifted over my shoulder, and I turned to look at Will, who returned an awkward smile.
I understood their closeness and appreciated Will being our mother’s stabiliser. Her brittle, some would say fragile, nerves needed a calming influence like Will.
“I like Mirabel. We grew up together. She’s part of my history.”
Her eyebrows drew in. “That’s why you like her?”
I couldn’t exactly tell my mother that Mirabel made me hot and insatiable, that I craved her being in my bed, even just to hold. She was great to fall asleep with, her body in my arms, all soft and warm. “We have good chemistry.”
“Darling, this family needs someone with a peerage and money.”
“We’re seriously rich. I’m rich in my own right.”
“I mean powerfully rich, darling. Powerfully.”
“That sounds overly ambitious and tiring. In any case, you can buy peerages these days.”
“I’m old-fashioned. I believe in inheriting it by marriage.” She sat down on the floral couch, picked up a copy ofVogue, and flicked through it absently. “She’s not to stay here again. I won’t have that woman here.”
“Fine. I’ll move, then.” I walked out of the room before she could respond.
Chapter 17
Mirabel
Orsonglancedupfromhis console. “What do you think?”
“The transition between the piano and vocal works well.”
Orson had a great ear, and for someone as indecisive as me, his input had been invaluable. High on something, Orson bounced around his music room, turning off equipment, popping cords into boxes, and opening doors covered in soundproofing foam. Like many in the music industry, his love of sniff was no secret. Orson wore a long-sleeved Marc Bolan T-shirt over orange jeans. His dirty-blonde hair with streaks of grey was scruffy in that carefully dishevelled way that made certain males attractive.
