Loren nodded.
Satrinelet that settle before sheangrily stabbed at her eggs, asking, “Are the police involved in taking downthis scheme?”
He knew the word “police,” he’d just never heard it used inthat manner.
They had constabularies and constables.If reduced to slangit was bobby or copper.
The verb was to police, not the noun.
As this was more than likely another indication of how sheused language unexpectedly due to the fact her circle had been egregiouslysmall her entire life, he didn’t remark on this.
“Yes.It’s my understanding Dupont is currently awaiting herown trial.But even in jail, people can scheme and issue orders.With the moneyshe earned, she can buy quite a bit of loyalty.”
She swallowed her bite and asked, “Is it true what Marlowsaid?About you leaving this loose end because she’s a woman?”
“Darling, I think you understand now when I say the otherswho confronted me that night were neutralized.So yes, I draw the line at doingthat to a woman.”
“That’s sweet,” she whispered.
He smiled at her.
“And totally short-sighted.”
He frowned.
She speared more egg, and before putting it in her mouth,announced, “We have to defuse her.”
His voice was dangerous when he asked, “We?”
She swallowed, opened her mouth, and…
“Jolly good!”Ansley decreed, strolling in.
They both turned in his direction and watched as Loren’sfather went direct toSatrine, bent and kissed theside of her head.
“Dear daughter, good morning,” he bid.He turned to Loren.“Son.You look well this morning.Very well.Considering.”
Before Loren could reply, Ansley turned and headed to thecovered dishes on the sideboard.
“Your grace, I—”Satrinebegan,and Loren took in the pink tingeing her cheeks, and he knew it was about thedressing gown…and how that referenced Loren’s earlier creativity.
Ansley scooped eggs and declared, “This is the best start tothe day I’ve had in six months, maybe a year.Coming upon two people I love atmy breakfast table.”
Satrine’seyes came to him, hercheeks pinker, but Loren sensed they were now thus for a different reason.
She’d had a detestable father.
And now she had Ansley.
Loren settled contentedly in that knowledge as Ansleyfinished his plate and sat at the round table with them.
“That was a lovely thing to say,”Satrinetold him.
Ansley reached for the coffeepot, his regard on her.
“What is mine is my son’s, and it’s soon to be yours, and Ienjoy sharing it.”
Loren suspected, even if his father was regardingSatrine, that remark was, in part, aimed at Loren.
