Battle stretched his neck ever-so-slowly to the side, and I didn’t think that was a good thing.
“Is that Chelsea’s father?” I asked hesitantly.
“One in the same,” she answered as Hamish put a scone in front of her and sat behind his own very full plate.
“Why the fuck is he calling you?” Battle demanded.
“Well, he didn’t share. But one would suppose he did it because he knew, if he attempted to speak to you, you’d tell him, he and his daughter could go fuck themselves.”
“I’d maybe have more words,” Battle said scarily. “But the message is spot on.”
“I had several words myself,” she stated while slathering butter on a bite of her scone, then going for the pot of jam. “And as you could probably guess, Mr. Renfrew is quite keen to keep his daughter’s name out of the papers and her face out of a courtroom.”
“I don’t give a fuck what he wants,” Battle replied.
“Yes, however, since he’ll be giving a million pounds to Vivi as an apology for his daughter’s erratic behavior, as well as another million pounds to the Talyn family, which we will in turn donate to the RSPCA,”—she looked to me—“I picked that charity, dearest, since you’re an animal person.” She returned to Battle. “Along with a written apology from Chelsea to Vivi, his assurances that she will be spending the next year…at least…in their flat in Sydney, and his solemn vow none of us will ever hear from her again, I thought you’d reconsider.”
I was so stuck on the first part, I forgot about shoving more of the full English on my plate into my mouth.
“He’s giving me a million pounds?”
She turned pensive. “Should I have demanded two?”
“You did!” I cried, beginning to freak. “The donation.”
“Of course. I mean three,” she amended.
I collapsed back in my chair.
Tempie delicately bit into her scone, chewed, swallowed and remarked, “I did not promise discretion. He knows we won’t go to the papers. He also knows I will tell every fucking person who has the ability of hearing, and I will learn goddamned sign language to share it with anyone who doesn’t, what a daft nutter his fucking daughter is.”
At this speech, Hamish had lost interest in his food and was gazing at his woman with open adoration.
“You, of course, can decline his offer. I only brokered it,” she concluded.
“He can—” Battle started heatedly.
“We’re taking it,” I said.
He snapped his head toward me.
“Somehow, honey,” I began, “no matter how totally gorgeous all of you are, how rich, how interesting and how titled, you’ve managed the miracle of pretty much keeping yourselves out of the limelight. But if you let that light in, you know it will never let up. Don’t let her do that to you. Even if it means she won’t be publicly scorned, I’ll bet Tempie has some pull in your circles, and she’ll be shunned. That’ll hurt worse. I guarantee it.”
“And she’ll be in Australia, Battie,” Prue chimed in. “Far away from you and Vivi.”
“I’ll add that Newton did not hide he’s done with her shenanigans,” Tempie said. “I do believe he used the term ‘very short leash.’”
She grinned malevolently.
I so understood Hamish.
I simply adored this woman.
Prue clapped. “And Vivi and the animals each get a million pounds!”
“What am I going to do with a million pounds?” I asked.
Again, Battle looked at me like I’d gone ’round the bend.
