“Really, must we make a show of this?” He brushed the hands off of him. Then as if seeing everyone for the first time, he asked, “What are you all doing here?”
And a rush of answers followed.
Arthur and Bridget were here about the gold rush, thinking they might offer their support. Since the Ashbournes are well known for running mines, they thought they might speak to some safety issues as well as recruiting help.
Gregory and Mary (besides needing a small break from their children) also thought they might be of assistance during the gold rush. Since the Wellingfords were among the richest in the country, he wanted to offer his support.
Serafina and Sebastian, and Lenora and Edward, well, they were simply there to support Mirabelle in her new endeavor in opening up Greene House as a place for spinsters. And yes, they knocked on the green house next door only to be redirected here. But, whew, they all made it. And they all happened to make it at precisely the same time. Imagine that.
Especially in front of everyone, Lucy had every intention of ignoring Damien. Not giving him the cut direct exactly, but just almost.
That plan didn’t pan out.
“Don’t you have something to say, Damien?” Tristan shoved him forward.
“No. I’m good.”
“We made a bet.” Alexander stepped up. “You lost.”
Lucy couldn’t determine who was the most embarrassed in the room. The awkwardness had taken on a new width of thickness. And it surpassed the threshold of thickness that could be cut with a regular knife.
“I’m a bet?” She gritted out under the tightest of smiles.
“No. Uh…no. Not at all.” Tristan clapped his hands together, rubbing them furiously.
“Of course not.” Alexander jumped in with a cough and a not-so-reassuring tone, “You’re not a bet.”
“Idiots,” Damien muttered. “You’re mucking this up worse than I did. And I don’t even know what I did.”
Wait now. “You don’t know what you did?” She couldn’t possibly grind her teeth together any further. They’d be nothing but dust by the end of the conversation.
“Maybe we should leave you two alone?” Mary asked gently, Gregory’s hand on her back with a solemn but confident nod of agreement.
“Yes, perhaps these two just need a moment to discuss,” Bridget added kindly as she fixed the placement of her glasses on her nose.
“No.” Lucy held up her hand. “No one is going anywhere.” She took a step toward Damien. “Maybe the truth needs a few witnesses this time.”
Damien clenched his brows together. “What are you talking about? I don’t even understand what I did. You’re the one ignoring me.”
“Pfft…” Yes, that most unladylike sound puffed out of her. “You don’t know what you did?”
He shrugged. Ugh. He shrugged. What could be worse? An eye roll?
“So that woman you were with in the tea shop…she’s no one to you?”
Redness of an apple grew splotch like on his face. “She’s…not…no one.”
Lucy put her hands on hips. “Who is she to you then?”
“I can’t say.”
“Of course not.”
“I can-t—”
“That makes perfect sense. Wouldn’t you all agree?” Lucy scanned the eyes trained on them. A few nodded along with her.
“It’s not mine to say.”
