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“I would be bored out of my mind stuck out here in the swamps with nothing to do but roam around this oversized house and paint my nails,” she finally murmured, returning her attention to her cousin. “Now you’re going to be handed off to a man so you can continue to live in the swamps and paint your nails while he flies around the world enjoying his life. Wait.” She snapped her fingers. “I forgot, you’ll also get to pop out a baby or two to continue the less than worthy line of the Benoits. Boring.”
Celeste’s flush deepened to an ugly red, her eyes smoldering with fury. Livia had hit a raw nerve, even if her cousin would rather die than admit it.
“I suppose slaving away in an office and going home to an empty house is better?” she snapped.
“At least I’m in charge of my life. I don’t have to depend on Mommy and Daddy or a rich husband to support me.”
“At least my mommy didn’t jump off the balcony to get away from me.”
Livia glared at her cousin as a shocked silence stretched between them. She knew that the venomous attack had been retaliation for mocking Celeste’s shallow life, but that didn’t make the words hurt any less.
At a loss for words, Livia told herself to walk away. Why give the bitch the satisfaction of knowing she’d hit where Livia was most vulnerable? But before she could move, a harsh voice came from behind her.
“Giselle didn’t jump, you stupid girl.”
With a small gasp, Livia whirled around to discover Helene standing directly behind her. Where had she come from? And why hadn’t she heard the older woman approaching?
“What are you doing out here?” Celeste demanded.
Helene strolled past Livia to study her niece with an arrogant sneer. The older woman was wearing one of her loose caftans with her hair hanging down her back, but she still managed to look regal. A true Benoit.
“This is my home,” Helene drawled.
“Not for long. My mother said she intends to find a nice room for you in the local looney bin.”
Livia studied her cousin. She’d seen that stubbornly defiant expression before. Usually when Celeste had done something wrong but was refusing to admit her guilt.
“Delilah is as stupid as you if she thinks she can force me out of here.” Helene smiled. “My father knew exactly what kind of woman she is. He arranged his will to ensure that I would be welcomed to stay at the Willows until the day I die.”
“You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” Celeste hissed. “Not in this house.”
With a last jaundiced glare at Livia, Celeste turned and flounced back to the house.
“Such a shame.” Helene clicked her tongue. “Celeste was an unpleasant child, but I hoped she would soften as she matured. Instead, she went from unpleasant to nasty.”
Livia stepped toward her aunt. She didn’t care about Celeste. Her cousin was a rancid bitch and always had been. Her only interest was in Helene’s fervent denial when she’d first approached them.
“Why did you say my mother didn’t jump?”
Helene blinked, then with a suspicious speed, she was no longer the arrogant daughter of Henri Benoit, but instead the confused woman who drifted around the estate like a ghost.
“Did I? Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Livia insisted. “You don’t believe she committed suicide?”
Helene waved a hand in a vague gesture. “I told you. I see her. Her spirit will never leave this place. She was loved.”
Livia curled her hands into tight fists. As much as she wanted to give her aunt a sharp shake, she knew it was a waste of energy.
“If she was so loved, then why did she jump?”
Helene flinched. “She wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Was she unhappy before …” The words stuck in Livia’s throat. “Before that night?”
“Not unhappy. She was angry. I’d never seen her so furious.”
Livia barely dared to breathe. That was the most information she’d gotten since she discovered her mother hadn’t fallen from her balcony as she’d been told as a child, but that she’d jumped.
