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I tried to ignore how beautiful she looked, how high her cheekbones were, and how her heart-shaped face looked graceful and young.

Everything about this woman screamed elegance. And Legacy Ruisangor.

“Miss DeLoughrey,” Mrs. Hudgington began cheerfully, confirming my assumption. Then the light scent of Legacy Ruisangor, along with a subtle rose fragrance, reached me. “Don’t worry. We still have five minutes.”

Mrs. Hudgington turned to us. “That reminds me, I left my documents in the car.” Her gaze first met Vivienna's. “Miss Westcode, would you be so kind as to fetch them with me?”

Had she emptied her filing cabinet and brought it with her?

It was only when Mrs. Hudgington walked past the slender DeLoughrey lady – who was one head taller than the petite professor but still smaller than Miles and me – with Vivienna sighing almost inaudibly, that I realized she had left me alone in a room with the DeLoughreys.

Shit. Couldn't it have been me she asked for help?

I fought against the panic inside me, wondering if it was even justified.

Miles was here. He wouldn't hurt me. But what if I was wrong about everything and this was the perfect opportunity for the DeLoughreys?

And then I froze.

Had I just considered Miles trustworthy for a split second?

I shook my head, which drew Miles' attention to me, but I couldn't look at him now. That would only make things worse.

Instead, I looked up at the DeLoughrey lady... who was staring at me.

My breath caught in my throat.

Her expression seemed petrified, her eyes sparkling with... curiosity?

Where had I seen her before? At the winter ball? Somewhere else?

“Staring is rude, Camille,” Miles teased her, pushing his chair back slightly, leaning back with both hands clasped behind his head, shifting his weight further back, and... lifting his legs onto the table before winking at me. “She might get scared.”

My jaw dropped slightly, and I was unable to do anything but stare in disbelief at his polished patent leather shoes.

How could he be so ill-mannered? And why did that double-breasted vest look so outrageously good on him?

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a quick movement and looked back at the woman, but she already shot across the room at supernatural speed, past me, toward Miles, causing me to jump up from my chair and step back, pulling the chair with me so that it slid backward across the parquet floor.

When she reached Miles, she knocked against his legs without paying any attention to me, her expression serious.

“That's mahogany from 1860.”

Miles rolled his eyes, whereupon she raised one of her eyebrows.

For a moment, that expression seemed familiar to me. It reminded me of Miles's.

“I'd be happy to let my shoes take a walk across your hood.”

That was the moment when Miles gave in and sighed, taking the shoes off the table before returning to the table with a fake smile.

“Understood, Mom,” he laughed, holding her gaze.

My eyes widened.

Mom?

The woman playfully slapped him on the back of the head, and he held his hands up in defense before she could slap him on the cheek a second time.