AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Come, Miss Ryan,” he began, looking and sounding disappointed. “Surely you know privileged men, or men in general, better than that.”
He could be alluding to what he knew of my ex. He could be alluding to what we all knew, but never talked about, regarding Dad cheating on my mom, Portia’s mom, and also Lou.
It could be both.
Or it could be he was enlightened to his gender.
His words and expression weren’t acrid or sharp, meant to sting or tally a point.
There was something almost…defeatist about his expression and posture.
And I sensed this was about his father hurting his mother. Maybe even Daniel hurting other women. And maybe, considering what I’d recently learned of their triangles, Daniel hurting women that had once been Ian’s, and he might have been done with them, but he didn’t want them hurt.
However, none of this was Ian nor his own behaviors.
Then again, he went through women like water, and as far as I knew, had never even been engaged. He was open about his apparent commitment to bachelorhood. So much so, no woman at this juncture, with his reputation, could be surprised his attention would eventually wander. If she went in thinking she could “change him,” his history proved her wrong from the start.
Thinking of it that way, Ian Alcott might be the last honest man standing.
He took my elbow and led me out of the Moonstone Room and down the hall, to the next room.
It was the Cat’s-eye Room, and I didn’t know why, but by far, it was my favorite.
The room was mostly a creamy, blueish, midnight green with the theme in the upholstery of the pillows and furniture of thin lines of white with a blue edge. It was clever, and it was warm. It was smaller than the other rooms, far cozier, even if, like all the rest, it didn’t seem much used.
There was something cocoonish about it. So much so, I wanted to curl up with a cat and a book, a pot of tea, and eventually fall asleep in order to catch up on the rest I’d missed last night.
I knew what it was.
I felt safe in that room when, so far, I hadn’t really felt safe anywhere in that house.
It all seemed, so far, to be traps, games, efforts at control, bonds and strictures.
I felt I could go to this room, and no one would look for me there: no maid, no Alcott.
No bad dreams.
When I finally had the opportunity, I intended to talk to Portia in that room.
“How did you know about your father?” I asked the room, speaking quietly.
“He shouted. She cried. I have excellent hearing. They’re my parents, I’m their son, I’m going to feel everything, notice everything, especially about my mother. What might hurt her, what might keep hurting her. Most especially when I’m six.”
Six.
Six years old.
For some reason, I shared, “It happened to me when I was four. Dad had just opened his twentieth store. We were leveraged to the hilt for him to do it. He took risks. Lived on the edge. Mom stood beside him even if we were eating ramen and she was cutting my hair, stealing from Peter to pay Paul to deal with bills, and she was a dab hand at begging for more time from creditors. But he was on the cusp. It would only take months from then when all his bets paid off and the profits started pouring in. When she found out about Andrea, Mom didn’t move him out of her bedroom. She moved him out of our house. And then Andrea swooped in for the kill.”
“She had something she could do. My mother doesn’t. No woman should put themselves in that position. If there are no laws preventing them, they should be able to look after themselves. If there are laws, they should do everything they can to have them struck down.”
Oh shit.
Was I beginning to like this guy?
I looked at him to see he was watching me.
“You didn’t answer,” I noted. “Who do you think killed Dorothy Clifton?”
