Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“In my defense, I wasn’t aware the hair was harvested after the Victorian was deceased,” I say, sipping my coffee before muttering behind the rim, “Or that the particular hair in question might have belonged to a woman who murdered people with soap.”
Edward makes a soft, but deeply horrified sound.
“Soap is a bizarre way to kill people,” I double down. “And we probably did the world a service by bringing that wretched thing into a happy home where such cursed darkness couldn’t possibly survive. So, it promptly burst into flames, never to wreak havoc upon the living again.”
My brother’s lips twitch, but he still looks decidedly unamused. “Right. Well, in any event, I’ve made Mother a promise, and I intend to keep it. We all know this year is…difficult. For all of us, but especially for her.”
Sobering, I nod. “Yes, of course.” I study what’s left of the foam in my cup, debating for a moment before I add in a cautious voice, “Though, to be frank, it hasn’t been as miserable as I thought it would be. At Grandmother’s on Saturday, I…” I shrug. “I would have sworn I felt him there with us.”
“Me, too,” Edward says, meeting my gaze for a quick beat before looking away. “I thought maybe it was just the grief playing tricks, but…”
I shake my head. “I don’t think it was. I mean, you know how much he loved a party. Especially a Christmas party.”
Edward smiles, sadly, but fondly. “He was a beast this time of year. Remember how he kept stealing Mother’s mulled wine last year, even though he wasn’t supposed to drink with his medicines?”
“And laughing like an imp,” I add, throat tight. “He always appreciated my extra effort for White Elephant.” I sigh. “I think he’d be especially delighted by this year’s offering.”
My brother’s gaze sharpens on mine. “Which is?”
Fighting a grin, I demure, “I don’t want to ruin the surprise. I promise, it isn’t cursed or flammable, and was obtained through…mostly legal means.”
His brows shoot up. “Mostly legal? What does that mean? Either something is legal or it’s not, Olly.”
“I would argue that there are actually shades of gray when it comes to—”
“Oliver, I swear, if the constable shows up at our Christmas luncheon, I will be forced to… I, well… I will have no choice but to…” He huffs out a breath. “I don’t know what I’ll do, but something will have to be done.”
Taking pity on my poor, uptight brother, already buckling under the strain of his new title and responsibilities, I decide it’s worth breaking tradition to put his mind at ease. “Relax, Eddy. It’s just a Westminster speedbump. For mother. I drew her name again this year.”
“What?” He blinks, then frowns as he connects the dots. “You mean one of those hideous concrete sleeping policemen?”
“The same,” I say. “I bribed a man in the public works department to liberate one for me. I hid it in the old larder at the country house, wrapped in paper and topped with a big red bow, ready and waiting for the big reveal.”
“Oh God, she’ll hate it,” he says, looking torn between amusement and revulsion. “She’s been complaining about how tacky they are for at least a decade.”
“Oh, much longer than that,” I agree cheerfully. “I remember her grousing about them when we were small. I’m going to offer to put it in the garden for her, right next to that rhododendron she loves so much.”
Edward snorts. “She’ll send it straight to the attic with all the other things she’s too embarrassed to have downstairs. You’re going to end up lugging fifty pounds of solid concrete up three flights, mark my words.”
“Likely. But it’ll be worth it,” I say, glancing at the clock on the wall above the giggling elf.
10:12. Huh. Strange that I haven’t heard from Emily…
The presentation was scheduled for forty-five minutes, tops. They had someone else coming in to present at ten.
I flip my cell over on the table to see if I missed a notification, but I’m still all caught up.
“Nothing from Em?” Edward asks.
I shake my head. “No, but maybe the meeting ran long. I’m sure she’ll text soon.”
Edward smirks. “Well, well…looks like Matilda was right.”
“Right about what?”
“It’s serious this time,” Edward says. “You and your American. I said it couldn’t be, or you would have said something after you two met in New York, but…” He shrugs. “Looks like I was wrong.”
Guilt twists through my gut. I hate lying to Edward. I also hate breaking promises, but surely, Emily will understand. And Edward can be trusted. He’ll take our secret to the grave if I ask him to.
“About that…” I exhale. “There might be more to the story.” I fill him in on what really happened—the night Emily and I met, the instant scandal, the fallout for her business, and our decision to tell a few white lies in the name of making the scandal seem less scandalous.