The arms of the chair are wide, almost a foot across, and the soft leather is still warm from where Baxter leant against it. He takes my drink as I adjust the hem of my dress, then returns it to me, snaking the same arm around my waist.
“That’s better.”
His touch makes it hard to concentrate. Weird vibes surge around the room, undercurrents that I can’t comprehend on such brief acquaintance. As celebrations go, this has more in common with a funeral wake than a baby shower.
It could only add to the awkwardness to raise the matter of his wife and my continuing interest in whether she’s alive or dead. I take another mouthful of scotch and roll it around on my tongue, trying to imagine how it would sound, saying the words aloud; giving it a practice run in my head.
“You look deep in thought.”
I wrinkle my nose at Baxter’s observation. The tease in his voice makes it one step shy of telling the lady she looks so pretty when she smiles. “This household is very different to what I’m used to. There’s a lot to process.”
Tiff smiles at me and I return it in kind, wondering why she looks so sad. Is it that she’s leaving or is the expression for something that prompted her to go?
Meri returns, heading straight for the sideboard to pour her own drink. When she takes a seat, she notes my change in position with narrowed eyes and I feel a rush of guilt like I’m doing something wrong.
Baxter briefly rests his forehead against the side of my shoulder. “How did your day with Sophia go?”
“It was nice. She’s very energetic and inventive.”
“She takes after her mother.”
I can feel his eyes watching me for a reaction and force myself to take another sip of my drink, holding the mouthful on my tongue for a moment before swallowing. A glance to the door shows Yuri’s shadow stretching along the carpet, caught by the fading sunset.
Edgar’s arm remains around Tiff. Meri sits next to them.
Surely nothing bad can happen surrounded by this many people. To spend another day not knowing would be horrible. I gather up my courage and raise my chin as though expecting a fight. “Did you kill her?”
Tiff gasps and I struggle to keep my gaze on Baxter’s face as my face floods with heat. Not that staring at him helps. The man has the world’s best poker face. Not a single feature moves. Not even a fraction.
“No. I didn’t.”
My shoulders relax from the tight posture they’ve held since returning to my room. Then my brain analyses his answer.
“And no,” he says, reading me with ease. “I didn’t order someone else to kill her, either.”
“Is she dead?”
“No but the moment she surrendered her parental rights, I stopped caring.”
Surrendered?
Even knowing it’s a load of sexist bunkum that females are more bound to their offspring than males, the news still shocks me. It’s hard to reconcile the woman who laboured over the lovely books upstairs with someone who could sign away the rights to her daughter.
“And did you kill Emmaline?”
“Stop it.” Tiff jumps to her feet, looking aghast as her husband doesn’t automatically move to join her. “You can’t just fling random accusations at—”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Finally, I get a reaction. Baxter’s eyes turn shades darker. He sits forward in his chair, arm tensing around my waist. “Isn’t it obvious? Sophia went missing from her custody. She took my daughter on an errand to a bakery and returned without her. I had to know if she was involved.”
Tiff collapses back onto the sofa, Edgar embracing her as she weeps. I’d spare her more of a thought if I weren’t so worried about my own skin right now.
“And was she?”
In a low voice, just for me, he says, “You know, usually I wouldn’t allow such behaviour, not even from a guest. I will overlook it on this one occasion because of the debt I owe you, but Ineedyou to stop. Now.”
