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People knew, they just didn’t discuss it publicly.
“That seems so soon,” Mother mused, but she looked at me as I sectioned off another piece of meat and took the bite. “You have seen her, haven’t you, darling? Is she well? Should we invite her back here? Do something for them?”
I needed more wine, in fact, I emptied my glass then nodded to the evening’s waiter who hurried over to fill my glass. “She’s fine. She’s married.” The last I offered up without a flicker of a glance to King.
We weren’t supposed to know each other. My father had introduced him when I arrived since he’d already been there having pre-dinner drinks. Pity, I could go with pre-dinner and after-dinner drinks at the moment.
Wine glass in hand, I looked to my mother’s end of the table. “She married Liam O’Connell…you remember him from my school.”
“Oh, the fashion house—that’s good a family. A little nouveau but solid.” She looked pleased. “I shall have to send them a wedding present.”
“I’m rather put out we weren't even invited, or at least notified,” Claudette murmured. “It must have been a recent thing.”
“Maybe she wanted something small,” Tally suggested from where she sat across from the King. Poor her, he was a terrible conversationalist. “With all the deaths in the family, it might have been seen to be poor taste to have something large.”
“Oh, that’s true,” Claudette said. “You’re right, Dinah, we should send the girl something. Maybe we can host a reception for them in the spring… she’s inherited all of Sharpe, I would expect. They are old friends.”
“Maybe just—a card,” I said. “Something small. I doubt they wanted the fuss.” Then, because it might actually shut them up and move them on to a different subject… “She was never presented to society, so maybe she wanted to keep it that way.”
“True,” Mother hummed as she picked up her glass. “Well, the season is a ways off. Though the Masquerade is coming up…”
And she ran with it. Good. The talk turned to costumes and dance and past Reed events. I tuned most of it out. King offered a comment here or there, but he seemed more amused than anything else. Tally was enthusiastic about the discussion.
Maybe she agreed with me on leaving Emersyn Sharpe and her family out of it. Bradley Sharpe had been a disgusting, depraved piece of shit. His loss was a benefit to the world. I managed a fourth glass of wine by the time dessert was served.
Not that the length of the courses did me any favors. After, we left the table for the sitting room and after-dinner drinks. Mother and her friends would probably go play cards.
“Ezra,” Father said as I poured a bourbon.
“Sir?”
“Join me in my office for a moment.”
Kill me.
“Yes, sir.”
“If you gentlemen—and ladies—will excuse us for a moment,” my father said. “We’ll be right with you. Have a drink, and I promised Dinah that we might indulge them in a few rounds of cards tonight if you gentlemen are up to it.”
The answering laughter was far more polite than enthusiastic. I brought the drink with me as I followed him down the hall to the office behind the great cherry wood doors.
You didn’t go into his office unless he invited you. Not even the staff dared his wrath on it. In fact, it was better to not go in at all. Beyond those doors, the true Wallace Graham lived and I’d dealt with him enough.
A mouthful of courage added fuel to the fire. He pushed open both doors and waited for me to pass him before he closed them again.
The room was cool, the fireplace dark and only a pair of lamps offered illumination on the old, squat desk he preferred. Hand carved and handed down through the generations, he would joke there were teeth impressions on it from multiple generations.
“Have a seat,” he said as he moved to his own bar and poured himself a drink. Well, I guess I could have waited to get one in here but I’d already started pouring the bourbon.
Unwilling to drag this out, I dropped into one of the seats facing his desk and sat back, drink in hand. “This isn’t a social visit.”
“You’re not that stupid,” Father said as he moved to his desk and took a seat. “You’ve never been that stupid, though you were not successful at the auction.”
“No,” I told him. “I wasn’t. More determined bidders. Though I did get you the name you wanted.” The landscape had been shifting since Bradley Sharpe’s death. New players moving in to fill the void. Or maybe not so new, some of them had been around for a while, they were just looking for an opening.
“It’s fine. I wasn’t that interested in the books, those were more for your mother. I’ll find her something else.” The books. The painting. Lainey. I hadn’t managed to win anything that night I was supposed to leave with.
Pity.
