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Her smile is strained. It’s the same look she used to give me as a child when I asked her who Father’s female friends were at dinner parties. That was always a conversation killer.
“There’s a friend of Beatrice’s that I want to introduce you to,” she says, linking her arm through mine. It’s not a sign of affection, more like a dog being put on a lead and forced to follow. “She’s recently moved to London from Paris. I think you’ll get on.”
Even for her, this is a new low.
“Do I need to remind you why we’re here?” I hiss, glancing at the giant portrait of Beatrice hanging on the wall. “This isn’t the time for you to play matchmaker.”
She laughs. “Oh, come now. I’m not trying to set you up with anyone.” Yeah, like that’s not her life’s mission and purpose. “She’s a lovely girl. You could be friends. If that biker friend of yours that Ralph told me about is anything to go by, then I think it’s about time you meet new people.”
I’ll have to relay to Callen that my mother disapproves of him. It’ll make his day.
She leads me to the dining room, where a long table is laden with a vast selection of canapés. No one is eating. A fashion show is taking place next week, and women are watching theirweight, while the men have already made plans to go to a steak house after they’ve stayed at the wake for an appropriate length of time. Needless to say, no one extended the invitation to me.
“Oh, here she is!” Mother says, taking me to the corner of the room while I check my phone. Still no reply from Bram. What’s taking him so long? “Florence, dear! I want you to meet my son.”
A tall brunette wearing an off-the-shoulder dress spins to face us, and my mouth falls open. Looking at her is like staring at a younger Ivy. They have the same facial features, even down to their freckles. Except the woman is taller with a slender figure, obviously dyed hair that doesn’t match her complexion, and has cat-like blue eyes instead of brown.
I shut my gaping mouth, trying to reason that their striking similarities must be a coincidence. Most people have a doppelganger somewhere in the world. Ivy’s sister is dead. This can’t be her.
“You must be Sebastian,” the woman says with a sweet smile that hides a darker side. I recognise that smile, and it sends a shiver down my spine. “Your mother has told me all about you. I’d love to reminisce about Beatrice. My friend, Stephanie, introduced me to Beatrice shortly before her death, and we became really close towards the end. Her death was such a terrible tragedy.”
My head spins, struggling to keep up as the jigsaw pieces fall into place. If she knows Stephanie, that means Daisy is…No!
“I’ll leave you two to get to know each other better,” Mother says, nudging me in the ribs and taking my silence as a good sign. “Why don’t you greet Florence properly, Seb?”
Mother hurries away as the woman closes the gap between us. When she moves to kiss me on each cheek, a sharp knife point jabs into my stomach, and she whispers, “Why don’t we find somewhere we can be alone?”
