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Then I’d work on Lou.
In other words, I had a packed afternoon planned of fun and revelry.
Not.
However, that morning, Ian had passed his laptop to me, and I’d checked. There was a train headed to Leeds from a town about half an hour away that left at four. And from Leeds, Lou would be in London in two and a half hours.
And that’d be one thing off my mind, and I could spend the week focusing on Portia’s latest shenanigans.
The door opened and Lady Jane came in.
I hadn’t mentioned yet, but it should be noted, Lady Jane made everyday, landed-gentry elegance seem effortless.
Today she was in light-gray slacks with a cream turtleneck and a gray and yellow scarf under a pale, pale-pink sweater blazer. Her blonde hair was appropriately teased and curled and gorgeously swept away from her face from a side part, in a manner it looked like it’d dip over her eye at any moment. Her lips were lined and filled with a becoming neutral that had just a hint of gloss. Her Clash de Cartier hoops were gorgeous, but not overdone, and best of all, unless you knew what they were, you wouldn’t know they cost seven thousand pounds.
The hallmark of true wealth: when you didn’t feel the need to scream you had it.
Although I had more of an edge to my look, and at that moment in my life I’d rather wear nothing than wear a sweater blazer, I took note how you could be you, and flawless, even when you were sixty-one years old.
Alternative thought, Richard was a fool.
Jane was regal. Stunning. Stylish. Mysterious. And I’d also learned…sweet. She knew and loved her children, and even if she communicated that in ways I wasn’t used to, she still communicated it. And she was loyal.
So many men had such treasure in their hands, and yet they chose to cast it aside to chase the sunrise of their lives, which was always fleeting.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, avoiding looking at Lou, per usual, and seating herself with a straight back, ankles crossed under her and hands folded in her lap in one of the two chairs across from the couch. “If you don’t mind, we’ll need to wait until Portia and Daniel get here. They’re on their way to the house. They’re just back from riding.”
Riding?
My sister and her man were enjoying their country sojourn, off on a horseback ride?
I felt my blood heat.
Ian looked over his shoulder at me because he knew that would make me mad.
Lou wasn’t aware that anything had gone on. I hadn’t had a moment alone with her yet.
I gave Ian a look that told him I wasn’t going to get in a hair pulling fight with my sister when she showed (I hoped) and kept my silence.
It was only a couple of minutes before Portia and Daniel arrived, in full riding gear, and Portia (who I’d never seen in such a getup), looked like she was a goddamn Olympic equestrian.
At least she didn’t have the hat on.
Though, that outfit had to be another hit to the money she should have saved if she intended to quit her job.
She lived in a posh, two-bedroom flat in Chelsea, for heaven’s sake. If she had no money, she wasn’t going to make the next month’s rent.
Her gaze raced quickly between Ian, me, then Lou, back to linger on Ian before she visibly startled when Lady Jane spoke, because she couldn’t see the woman as the high back of her chair was facing the door.
“Good, you’re here. Please, come in.”
Hesitant, like the two naughty children they were impersonating, Portia and Daniel slunk into the room.
They barely stopped in front of the cold fireplace when Lady Jane launched in.
“Dorothy Clifton was a vital woman with a thriving career. She lived. She had family. Friends. It was a long time ago, but no matter the time that’s passed, the tragic fact she lost her life in this house is not a joke. It isn’t fodder for a prank. Frankly, I find it vile that anyone would think so.”
Daniel was contritely studying his muddy riding boots.
