Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“What do we have to talk about?” I asked.
“Lou has a brain tumor!” she shouted.
I sat very still, mostly because I was controlling myself from losing it with my sister, and if I moved, that control would snap.
“Calm the fuck down,” Ian said with quiet menace.
“Excuse me, but my stepmother is dying,” she snapped.
Daniel rounded to her side. “She’s not dying, Portia. You heard Ian when he told us what was happening, and we looked it up when we got home. It’s a glioma. It’s benign.”
“You can tell me how to behave when a member of your family has a brain tumor,” she retorted.
“When someone has a glioma, stress can cause seizures. Did you read that when you were looking it up?” Ian asked sardonically.
“We—” she started.
“And what stress has Lou been experiencing recently, Portia?” Ian drove his point home.
“Oh my God!” she cried. “Now I’m responsible for Lou’s tumor?”
“No, but you do bear some responsibility for the episode she endured tonight,” Ian replied.
“Portia, let’s go somewhere and get a drink,” Daniel intervened.
Arm stiff, she pointed to the drinks cabinet. “There’s alcohol right there.”
Daniel looked beleaguered.
Ian took a drag from his cigarette, blew the smoke to Portia’s right side, not in her face, but his intent was clear, and he instructed, “Duncroft lesson, petal. With plenty of space available, we’ve all claimed our own. This and the Brandy Room are mine. In case you’re interested, Mum’s are the Viognier Room and the Sherry Room. Dad’s are the Whisky and Wine Rooms. Daniel is partial to the stables and the Bordeaux Room. We respect each other’s space. And if you intend to spend any time in this house, you’ll do the same.”
“Will I get my own space?” she asked snottily.
“It’s been a generation since anyone used it. Mum flew in the face of convention and wanted her babies close. But the Nursery is available in the northwest wing,” Ian drawled.
Portia’s face turned red.
I sipped Amaretto.
Suddenly, her attention came to me, and she watched with bizarre intensity as I swallowed the almond liqueur.
“What’s your space?” she whispered in an ugly voice.
I didn’t get the chance to answer.
Ian did it for me.
“I’m particularly fond of the time she spends in the Hawthorn Suite.”
Portia looked like her head was going to explode, so I shifted my efforts from trying not to lay her out to trying not to laugh.
“Fuck it. Fuck this. It’s been a shitty day. I’m going to get drunk,” she declared, turned and flounced out.
Daniel, either being a decent person behind the seemingly clueless puppy dog he’d been since I met him, or having learned that day I held power and it’d serve him well to curry my favor, looked to me and said, “I’m really sorry about Lou, Daphne. That’s terrible news.”
“Thanks, Daniel,” I replied. “But according to her, although it’s going to get hairy, she’ll be okay.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he muttered.
Ian, demonstrating he had a soft spot for his brother, or perhaps being like me and capitalizing on the rare times Daniel wasn’t acting like an asshole, offered, “Would you like to have a drink with us?”
“I should probably make sure Portia’s okay,” Daniel said. “She doesn’t know how to act when she’s feeling too much.”
“Sadly, I’ve noticed that,” Ian returned. “Though it appears she feels too much on a constant basis.”
Daniel gave him a look I couldn’t decipher, though I was mildly surprised to note it wasn’t unpleasant, before he nodded to his brother, dipped his chin to me and took off.
Ian folded back into the couch.
“Is that true about the space?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“You picked the best spots, though this is kinda creepy, especially at night.”
“The better to have the damsels I lure here cowering in my arms.”
I shot him a smile and relaxed deeper into the couch.
Ian shifted to one hip, lazily hooked one knee over the other and reached out to wrap an arm around mine and draw them up to the couch so I was curled into a cocoon of Ian.
It was a smooth as hell move.
I loved it.
I was also a lot more comfortable this way.
He then said, “There was a debutante named Adelaide. She was sheer perfection. Her coming-out season, a triumph. It was rumored the Prince Regent himself was enamored of her, and if it wasn’t for his pesky marriage to Caroline, he’d have fallen over himself, royally of course, to offer for her hand. However, it’s likely this would have been rebuked because everyone said the moment she laid eyes on Augustus Alcott, she was lost. This being good for her, because Augustus told his mates he would stop at nothing to have her. He didn’t have to make any grand gestures. He offered, and she and her family didn’t hesitate to say yes.”
“And?” I asked to urge him to continue telling his story.