He encountered Thomas in the main hallway. He was carrying a basket of potatoes that must have been dredged up from the cellar. Cal pulled him aside before he could make it to the kitchen, ignoring his grimace and slight flinch. “Where did my sister take Nadine?”
“Miss Cullraven put her in the bridal suite, sir.” Cal didn’t think he imagined the disapproval, though it was difficult to tellwhether it was directed at him, her, or the location. Not that he needed to explain himself to a servant.
“Treat her like family,” he instructed. “Whatever she wants—you tell her yes, and then you come to me. Not my father and not to Ben. Is that clear?”
What was clear was that the butler did not approve of this at all, but he nodded stiffly, though the very outline of him seemed to grow sharper with displeasure. “She has a food allergy, sir.”
Cal looked at the potatoes. “Those should be fine. Check the herbs just to be sure. The potted rabbit, as well. We can’t have her getting sick at the table.”
“She wants to eat in her room.”
Cal considered this. That looked an awful lot like running away and it wouldn’t do to have her looking like easy game so early in her stay—but it was a better option than having her wandering around like unclaimed quarry while her throat begged for a knife.
“I think we can make an exception this once, don’t you?”
“Master Cullraven won’t like it.”
“She’s here at my behest,” Cal reminded the other man. “Not his.”
“Very good, sir.” The butler shifted his basket of potatoes and continued en route for the kitchen, no trace of warmth in his tone, only the upward inflection of reluctant compliance.
Sir.
His father was “Master Cullraven” and his brother was “Mister.” The servants addressed him like a stranger in his own home.
But it’s not yours, is it?The imagined voice could have been a Greek chorus, whispered by those ancestral portraits with thewatching eyes that followed him all the way up the stairs to his bedroom.It’s not yours—and it never will be. Not while Ben lives to breathe.
Fuck Ben, Cal thought wearily.
After the trying day he’d had, eating in his room, alone, sounded like a rather good idea, but his father demanded their continued presence whenever they were under this roof. His mother made them dress up and in this one small sphere, his father indulged her authority, perhaps enjoying the pageantry himself.
Cal did up the buttons of his silk shirt, head canted as he listened for sounds from next door. On the other side of the medieval tapestry draped over his wall was a secret door, which led right into the bridal suite. He could feel faint stirrings, as if she were walking. Or pacing.
Given her smugness, and Nadine’s hapless confusion, Cal suspected that his older sister had not bothered to inform their guest that her bedroom led right into his when the doors were unlocked.
She was playing matchmaker. He stepped into his slacks, smoothing his fingers over imaginary wrinkles. This would have to stop. If she continued to flaunt Nadine in front of his brother and father for her own amusement, that would force his hand before he was ready.
He wanted to take his time.
The table was already set for dinner. Beneath the carved chandelier of deer antlers, candles flickering in their depths to throw stark shadows over the striped walls, the crystal glassware and silver cutlery glittered almost violently.
Odessa was on time for once, wearing a pearled headband to tame the dark falls of her rich locks. Beside her was Ben, whowas disheveled and unshaved, and then his mother. She was wan, but she tended to look that way whenever his father was home.
“I hear we have a guest,” she said.
“Yes, Noelle’s sister.” Cal seated himself, dragging the linen napkin over his lap. “She’ll be staying with us for a while. It seems her accommodations fell through.”
“Howunfortunate,” Odessa said.
“It would have been nice if you had consulted with me, first,” Ben said, pouring himself a full glass of wine, “seeing as how she’s the sister of my late bride.”
His mother looked up in alarm. “Hush.”
“Don’t worry.” Cal gave his brother a smile like razor wire. “She’s having dinner in her rooms. That ought to give you some time to practice working on your slips.”
Ben blanched angrily. “Spare me the cross-exmaination.”
“If thiswerea cross-examination, I’d charge you as a hostile witness.”
