Uhhhh . . . are you sure you want me to answer that?
You’re hilarious.
But seriously, give me something to do.
Enzio knew that Branwell’s girlfriend’s uncle, Jack, was staying with me while we worked on a project together.
Well . . . Branwell’s girlfriend’s sort of uncle. When Jack disappeared in 1818, his younger brother had inherited the title Lord Knight and continued the family line. Lucy Snow, Branwell’s girlfriend, was the great-great-whatever granddaughter of Jack’s brother.
Enzio didnotknow that Jack was a ghost, a bona fide Regency lord, oppressively arrogant and completely obnoxious.
Okay, so maybe I was projecting somewhat with that last point, but we were both obnoxious in different ways.
Myobnoxiousness was sorta endearing.
Jack’s was not.
Let’s face it. Obnoxiousness is tied to size. The bigger you are, the more likely others will view over-the-top behavior as irritating.
Case in point. At a scant five-foot-one and a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, I was unfortunately adorable. People viewed my feistiness like a rambunctious kitten—cute and lovable.
But add an extra ten inches, seventy pounds of weight and a Y chromosome and all that obnoxiousness somehow morphed into overbearing jackass.
Or should I just say Jack?
Siri continued to drift down the hall:
“In late 1816, Lord Knight uncovered Etruscan inscriptions which hinted at a buried treasure guarded by the goddess Hinthial. While some scholars postulate that the treasure was more metaphorical than literal, Lord Knight was convinced the treasure actually existed. Between 1816 and 1818, he excavated multiple sites in Tuscany, tirelessly working to find more evidence of Hinthial’s treasure—”
“Siri, go back.” Jack’s smooth baritone voice.
“Born into the English aristocracy . . .”
I closed my eyes and slowly counted to ten. Either Jack was struggling to adjust, or he was simply determined to drive me mad.
Bing, bing.
Enzio.
I do need some surveillance done with a custody case I’m working on. I know how you get about kids.
This was true. I adored kids. My brothers would say that’s because I stillwasone, literally and figuratively.
Brothers can be mean.
Enzio continued.
But if I give you the custody assignment, will you take backup? You know I hate it when you don’t take back-up.
So, maybe Enzio took the whole father-figure thing too seriously. Bearded, rotund and quick with a smile, Enzio was a sonic-boom of a man. But with four grown daughters of his own, he did tend to cluck and fuss over me. I called him Father Goose.
Would I take back-up? I paused, twisting my mouth, before responding.
Sure
Lie.
Try again.
