“So what are our other options?” Max rose and refilled brandy glasses.
“Face him with it?” Kitty sipped appreciatively.
“We did consider that. It’s the most logical course of action,” exhaled Hecate. “But as you surely understand, it would be only Finn’s word against Faversill’s.”
“And whatever legal personage he could buy for the occasion, I’ll warrant,” added Max, his lip curling in disgust.
The conversation ranged over a variety of suggestions, from the “let’s kidnap him and force him to confess” from Kitty the Bloodthirsty, to the “let’s try to get a few peers on our side to pressure him into doing something for the Marchville’s” idea, which appealed to Max and James.
As the hour drew late, Hecate rose—a little unsteadily since she was holding her third brandy. “Well my dears. My family. I do have a very solid option to propose.” She put the glass down on the table. “Finn is not entranced by the notion, but I firmly believe it will work.”
She looked around at the faces who were so dear to her. Nobody appeared sceptical; they awaited her words with rapt attention.
God, how she loved them all.
Aware the brandy was making her a little too relaxed, she gathered her slowly dissipating wits.
“All right then. Here’s my plan…”
