“It’s not for me to say?—”
“Perhaps not, but Emily would have an opinion. I can assure you of that. So I’m interested in yours now that you’re the new Emily.”
Annoyance clouds her eyes, but she does her best to hide it. “I think if you’re able to manage the financial implications of such a renovation, then the children and Lady Althea should have what they want.”
“I agree.” I glance down at Althea. “I don’t want it to come from taxpayer funds. I’ll pay for it.” Lord knows I have plenty through investments and real estate. More than I’ll need for ten lifetimes.
“You’re serious?” Althea throws at me, a serious look on her face.
“Absolutely.” I shake the top of my head, shooting drops of water every which way and managing to get some on Marcella. “My apologies.”
“Not at all, Your Highness.” She wipes her cheek and forehead.
Yeah, Marcella doesn’t like me. That’s fine. The feeling is mutual, though my dislike merely comes from the fact that I’m stupidly attracted to her and inherently distrustful of her. She doesn’t like me because I push her buttons and get under her skin. She most certainly has trouble looking at me. Is it because of the pictures she found or because I’m essentially half naked? I don’t know. Either way, I like her reaction a little too much.
“Let’s do it, Aunt. Let’s get an architect or landscape designer or whoever deals with such things and get it going.”
“You don’t want to speak to Sebastian about this first?” Althea challenges, though there is amusement in the curve of her lips and lift of her brows.
I grin. “I will, but you know he won’t say no. The moment the children start to work on him, he’ll be putty in their hands. Same as I am with them.”
“True,” Althea concedes. “It would be nice to make some improvements to the palace. We haven’t done that in quite some years. Fresh carpet, refinishing the floors, fresh paint, maybe a kitchen upgrade.” She turns to Marcella. “From a housekeeping standpoint, are there things that would improve the function of the palace?”
Marcella doesn’t like being the center of attention or being asked these things. “I’m sure Mrs. Lids would have a better understanding of that than I would.”
“Yes, but her surgeon told me that she’ll need six to twelve weeks of physical therapy and that full recovery and muscle healing will be closer to three to six months.”
Marcella looks stricken. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Is that a problem for you?” I press. “Filling in for her for that length of time?”
She narrows her eyes at me, only to remember herself andreturn to a servant’s mindset. It infuriates me. It’s as if she’s hiding who she is and what her real thoughts are. It only makes me want to push harder, dig deeper. And I shouldn’t. With any of that. I shouldn’t push, I shouldn’t dig, and I definitely shouldn’t care.
“No, sir. Certainly not. I was just surprised. In that case, I think an updated elevator system would be quite useful. Currently the freight elevator is small and only on one side of the palace, which makes it difficult for staff with large or heavy equipment to get up and down. I feel this may also be useful for Mrs. Lids with her recovery, as well as others with physical disabilities who find stairs or long walks difficult.”
Althea is impressed by this suggestion, and frankly, so am I. It’s thoughtful and conscientious of everyone.
“We need Sebastian for this,” Althea grumbles with a twist of her lips, even as she does something on her laptop and begins typing. “I’m making notes, though. These are all important elements we must address. Anything else you can think of?”
“Honestly, My Lady, and I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but much of the electrical, plumbing, and boilers are quite old.”
“Yes,” Althea agrees. “I’ve seen the heating and electric bills for this palace. It’s ancient, but we must modernize it and make it more efficient and sustainable. I wouldn’t complain about better air conditioning either, but now we’re talking a large-scale renovation.”
“Likely worth a discussion and an assessment, and if Sebastian and parliament agree, we should do the lot.”
“Perhaps,” Althea agrees. “I’ll address it with Bellamy and Sebastian this evening. Hopefully Bellamy is feeling better by then.”
“I have to go potty!” Zayer cries from the pool, frantically swimming toward the steps to get out.
“Oh, boy.” I chuckle. “I’m coming, lad. Hold on and hold it. Arthur, you watch the girls.”
I hear a small giggle behind me, the sound tickling my brain and causing a flash of déjà vu. I cast back over my shoulder and see Marcella smiling and covering her mouth, her attention on me. When she notes me looking at her, all amusement dies, and she quickly makes her escape.
I reach Zayer in the pool and haul him out, unsnap his vest from him, wrap him up in a towel, and quickly bring him inside for the bathroom. It’s not near here, so that might be another thing we add to the pool reconstruction.
But her laugh. Marcella’s laugh.
No. I have to stop this already.
