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“We’ve just got the next best thing: Manon.” I didn’t hide my resentment.
Theadora sat opposite me on a pink chaise lounge, looking like a painting in her draping gown and hair in a top bun. “You don’t like her?”
“She keeps stealing my clothes, for one.”
Mirabel grimaced. “Oh, I’d hate that.”
“And Mother refuses to believe me.”
Ethan shrugged. “Best keep out of that, I think. Mother’s too busy trying to protect Manon from Crisp’s greasy hands.”
Steering the subject away from my pesky niece, I turned to Declan. “What happened with Will’s appeal?”
“It was thrown out. His five-year prison sentence has been upheld. As far as I’m concerned, it’s too light a sentence.”
“Too right.” Ethan matched Declan’s venomous tone.
“Oh well. Enough of that. I’m going out there to hang out with whoever.” I smiled. My heart beat a little faster than usual with anticipation after learning that Carson had accepted an invitation to the party.
I walked up the hallway and headed for the private bathroom hidden behind the library.
Leaning into the mirror, I fixed my lipstick and brushed down my hair, which had grown to my shoulder blades. The brown shade made my eyes stand out. I’d been blond for a while, but I preferred my natural shade. The fact Carson mentioned he preferred brunettes might have had something to do with it.
I ran my hands down my dress and lifted my boobs in my push-up bra. Turning around, I checked my butt, which was probably my best feature along with my legs. All those ballet lessons as a girl had paid off.
My Prussian-blue fitted Alexander McQueen dress accented my eyes and was just above my knees, making my legs look longer. I ran my hands over my bare legs down to my six-inch chunky heels.
As I moved down the hall, I dodged staff racing around with trays of canapes and champagne and grabbed a glass along the way.
I ran into a few of my mother’s friends, who all looked the same. Although we’d held so many parties, which meant I’d been seeing these same faces all my life, I still couldn’t remember half their names.
Only those who’d caused some scandal stood out. The well-behaved ones, who huddled together like library books in their designated categories, were a blur to me. I was always nice, of course, fake-smiling my head off.
I stepped into the front red room, where guests always convened at the beginning of all our functions.
Carson stood out. Not only for his casual gear of black jeans and loose checked shirt, which made him look like he’d just stepped out of an Irish pub, but because he was so tall and muscular and had my hormones pinging. Or was that my pulse racing?
Men didn’t normally affect me like that.
If I liked a guy, I’d flirt and turn it into a game. But with Carson, from the moment I laid eyes on him, my body responded differently. I’d forget to breathe and became rather brainless in the conversation department.
Women kept checking him out too. As always, there were plenty of pretty girls in skimpy designer clothes in our scene. Wealth attracted good-looking people. Maybe that’s why I preferred rugged men. I found well-spoken men in bespoke jackets as arousing as nerdy guys discussing the latest app.
Orson had cornered my mother, and I even caught her blushing, but then, it could have been a man I spotted standing close. He was handsome in that older male, George Clooney way, and my mother seemed to be stealing glances.
Go, Mother. After what happened with Will, I wanted her to find true love, and it couldn’t have been fun being with a gay husband. Despite my deep love for my father, I still felt sad for my mother.
Back to her evasive best, my mother refused to talk about her long-lost daughter, my evil stepsister, Bethany, or discuss Will’s incarceration.
“There you are,” I heard over my shoulder. I turned and Sienna smiled back at me.
She leaned in and kissed me. “This is nice.” She touched my dress.
“90s Alexander McQueen.”
“It’s gorgeous. And that’s a yummy shade of blue. It’s so your colour.” Her eyes, painted in a sparkly turquoise shadow, did a sweep of the room. She cocked her head towards a guy in a burgundy velvet jacket. “He’s kinda cute.”
“That’s Gareth. He’s gay.”
