“Yes.”
“Then I’ll be there.”
A giddy wash of delight rippled through her.
Then she remembered.
The past … the inconsistencies … the lies.
“I’ll be a day late, though,” she said.
“Oh?”
“I must stop over in London first.”
“To retrieve Bathsheba?”
She nodded. It was both a truth and an untruth.
“I’ll leave the tack room first,” he said, jutting his chin toward the door. “When the aisle is clear, I’ll give three quick knocks.”
She snorted playfully. “Concerned about my reputation?”
When he turned, she reached out and grabbed his arm, filled with a sudden fear. She hopped off the table, lifted onto her toes, and kissed him. Deep and passionate, imbued with urgency, it was over too quickly.
Steady golden eyes met hers. “Until Somerton.”
She nodded.
Then he was gone.
And she was alone with her thoughts—and her fears.
The inconsistencies of the past and its lies, they all had to be sorted and resolved.
The truth must out.
And the only way to accomplish that end was to speak with Mother.
Tomorrow.
A simple conversation would make everything clear. After all, Mother always had Artemis’s best interests at heart, so there would be an explanation and all would be sorted.
She wouldn’t lose Bran a second time.
He wasn’t yet hers, but she was his.
It had ever been so—and ever would be.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MIVART’S TEA ROOM, LONDON, NEXT DAY
“Icannot fathom why you insisted on that minty pistachio watered silk for an evening gown.” Mother lowered elegantly into the chair the footman had waiting for her. “It is decidedly not your color, Artemis.”
Artemis and Mother had spent the afternoon flitting from one Bond Street shop to another. From an outsider’s view, it could have been characterized as a frenzy of shopping, but that would give the impression of chaos, and shopping with Mother was anything but that. Her shopping excursions were a serious business and meticulously planned. One would’ve thought she’d had her fill recently in Paris—one would be wrong.
“I chose it for one very simple reason,” said Artemis, as she settled into a chair across the table, while staff set about tea preparations. Mother had firm opinions about fashion and everything related to life in theton—which happened to be her entire life. “I like the color.”
