The distant peal of the doorbell told her she’d aced her timing for her arrival downstairs. Neither parent would offer a lecture in the presence of guests. She walked into the lounge on the heels of James, greeted Aaron and his girlfriend. Laura kissed her father’s cheek and left him to bustle about getting drinks for everyone.
“Hello, James. How are you?” Time to confront her problem instead of skulking on the opposite side of the room—instead of hiding out in Napier. If James agreed with her mother, it was time to disabuse him of the idea.
“I’ve been better.” His face was pale and drawn, his eyes puffy with lack of sleep. Like her, James was blond, but his eyes were a bright blue. Tonight they were the hue of a polluted sea. Something was amiss in James Land.
“We need to talk. In private.”
“Yes, we do.”
He’d better not be thinking about marriage. She’d bop him on the head if he produced a ring. “Is Father getting you a drink?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll talk after dinner,” Laura said. “When everyone is more relaxed and not inclined to interrupt.”
“Sounds fine.”
Laura could see why he was no match for her mother. Luckily for him, she was, although her mother hadn’t realized it yet.
During dinner talk turned to the wedding.
“At least the weather has cleared. The bride and groom are arriving at the church via horse and carriage,” her mother said. “Personally, I think a summer wedding is a better proposition, although a late spring wedding can be very pleasant. Laura, what do you think?”
“I haven’t considered the matter,” Laura said.
“What about you, James?” her mother asked.
“I prefer warm weather.”
Her mother’s expression turned smug. “Do have more dessert, James. You’re so trim you can afford to have a second helping.”
“This pavlova is delicious,” Laura said, accepting another slice and ignoring her mother’s unvoiced disapproval. “The combination of chocolate and raspberry is irresistible.”
Her mother sniffed, in a feminine manner, of course. Laura hid her smile. The meringue confection was beyond excellent. She’d have to compliment the housekeeper.
They rose to take their coffee and after-dinner liqueurs in the lounge. Very civilized. Her father dispensed alcoholic drinks while her mother took care of coffee.
Her brother sidled over to sit on the arm of Laura’s chair. “How are things in the city?”
“Why?” Was her guilty secret emblazoned on her face? She shot him a sharp glance. Aaron possessed an impassive expression.
“Just wondered. You seem to enjoy city life. Mother was bitching about you not returning home every weekend.”
“You have a life. Why can’t she let me have one too?”
“She wants more grandchildren,” Aaron said, his brown eyes—so like her own—glinted with amusement.
“You get working on that.”
“Not gonna happen.” He grinned at his girlfriend of three months, who stood chatting with their mother. “Cassie knows the score. She knows I’m not interested in anything permanent. I told her upfront.”
As if Cassie knew they were talking about her, she wandered over with her coffee. “We missed you at the hen’s night. We had a ball, despite the rotten weather.”
“If your hangover was any indication,” Aaron said, sotto voce.
Cassie flapped her hand as if that were of little consequence. “What did you do for the weekend? It must have been boring when you knew everyone was here having fun.”
“I…ah…caught up on my reading, watched some television.” Had some very hot sex.
