11
Abrisk trot coveredthe distance between Iris’s cottage and the Abbott-Lightfoot manor in under ten minutes, but they might as well have been in different worlds.
Iris’s cottage was all country charm on the outside and coziness on the outside. It radiated a lived-in feel.
The Abbott-Lightfoot manor was huge, and Keith suspected it had been the ancestral Abbott home. It was the kind of enormous house it would be gaudy and self-aggrandizing to build now, but as an ancient fixture of the community, it just seemed stately and noble.
Keith couldn’t imagine actually living in it, though. Could you really make toast and brush your teeth every day in a place that looked like a Gothic cathedral? It existed on a scale that threatened to make anybody’s ordinary life feel small and insignificant. And it was ... cold. The Council House was homier, and that was saying something.
Still, he couldn’t deny the manor’s beauty and power. The wrought iron gate, the stained glass windows in the narrow towers, the sheer elegance of its lines: they were all designed to impress, and they were definitely fulfilling the requirements.
“I know,” Iris said, looking at him. “It’s a lot. He’s the only Abbott left, so he gets it all.”
And Iris hadn’t mentioned any nieces or nephews. For a family obsessed with passing on a storied legacy, that was kind of a big deal.
But maybe Blake was different from his ancestors, and he was fine with having the Abbott line end with him. Or maybe he and Seraphina had been trying for a child.
Either way, Keith scolded himself, it was none of his business. His job had heightened his curiosity, and now he was letting it run away from him.
As they stepped onto the porch, Iris clasped his hand for a second, giving him a reassuring squeeze, and then she raised the bronze knocker and brought it down against the door.
It felt like not even ten seconds passed before it opened. Seraphina Lightfoot had been waiting for them.
“Iris,” she said in a clear, melodic voice. “It’s so good to see you, as always. And Deputy Marshal Ridley.” She extended her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
Keith shook her hand. “Please, Lady Lightfoot, call me Keith.”
Seraphina inclined her head. “True, a family connectionhasbeen proposed between us, hasn’t it? If you’re Keith, then I’m Seraphina.”
She was every inch the proper unicorn lady, and Keith could see how intimidating it must have been for Iris to grow up in her shadow. But even though Seraphina had cultivated a sense of aristocratic grandeur that he doubted Iris had ever wanted, the sisters still looked more alike than different. They were both tall and statuesque, with deep brown skin and bright golden-brown eyes that sparkled with intelligence and curiosity. They both had the same loose curls, even if Seraphina wore hers up while Iris left hers down.
Keith had to admit he was predisposed to like anyone who reminded him of Iris. Plus, even if there was some lingering tension between them, Iris obviously adored her sister. He really wanted to make a good impression.
Seraphina led them through a palatial foyer and into a parlor that looked so elegant and austere that Keith was pretty sure dust ran away from it, too scared to ever settle down.
Blake Abbott was waiting for them there.
He seemed as impeccable and untouchable as the parlor, and his smile, though welcoming, didn’t do much to dispel that. It was a politician’s smile, but Keith could sympathize with that. Hadn’t he just been telling Iris earlier today that smiling at people still didn’t always come naturally to him?
Like all the Abbotts Keith had ever met, Blake was broad-shouldered and pale and dark-eyed, with his light brown hair slicked rigidly into place. Unsurprisingly, he had a good handshake: brief and firm.
Keith went through the call-me-Keith rigamarole again, and then Blake said, “Will everyone take cocktails?” His gaze darted to Keith, double-checking that Keith wouldn’t have any objection. “Since it’s a special occasion.”
Keith nodded. “I’d like one, thank you.”
He could already tell it was going to be strange and wearying to be the moral authority of the night, but at least he was going home with Iris when it was all over.
