Page 56 of Dagger’s Shield

“Will she agree to it?”

My mother cocked her head. “She’ll pray for it to storm just so she has more to do.”

I smiled. She was right. Marthe was always happiest when she was busy.

“For your bouquet, lily of the valley,” she continued, moving down the page. “Every French bride carries it. It brings luck.”

“Then, that’s what I’ll carry.”

“On another subject, Maëlle, where will you live?”

“Geneva,” I blurted without thinking it through. “Most of Rourke’s contracts are there.”

“What about your work? Your clients?”

“It’s the same for me. Mine are from everywhere.” The statement was mostly true. Over the course of my career, I’d spent more time in Lausanne than anywhere else, but missions took me around the globe.

She set the pen down. “Maëlle, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Pardon?”

“With every question I ask, your answer seems to cause you pain.” She leaned forward. “And you won’t look me in the eye.” Her brow furrowed, then smoothed as if she’d figured it out for herself. “You think I won’t live to see you married.”

I gasped, and my eyes filled with tears. “No, Maman. I swear that isn’t what I’m thinking.”

“Then, what is it? Does it have something to do with the reason you didn’t come home last night?”

“It’s nothing.”

She leaned against her chair. “You’re lying.”

Dread settled in my stomach like lead. Now, I had to come up with another lie to cover all the rest. “I spoke out of turn when I said May. I need to discuss it with Killian first.”

She studied me. “I see. He is against marrying in France? Does he want the wedding to take place elsewhere? Perhaps closer to his family?” She set the notebook on the table near her chair and took my hands in hers. “I planned my life around your father’s. He made no concessions for me. I don’t want to see you do the same.”

“Maman—”

“That is all I will say about it.” She picked her notes up and turned to another page. “Your father’s list numbers eighty-one, as of this morning.”

“I’ve said family only more than once.” Why was I arguing the point over a wedding that would never take place anyway?

“You won’t invite your clients?” she asked. “What about Killian’s?”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

She sighed. “Maëlle⁠—”

“The people we work with are very private. There would be security risks.”

“I see. And what about his family?”

Finally, I could speak the truth. “There is only his sister. His parents passed away a few years ago.”

“Then, she’ll sit with us. I would like to write her a personal invitation to do so. Please give me her address.”

I couldn’t come up with a reason off the top of my head not to, so I nodded.

The rest went faster. We decided on the linens, the food that would be served, and what wine would be used for the toast. When she closed the notebook and rested her head against the chair, I stood to leave.