Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
He has a point.
“If it weren’t for Harriet, I’d tell your mother.”
“I’m thirty-one-years-old,” he replies dryly. “And my mother hates Rosalyn almost as much as you do, so she’d just tell me to carry on messing with them.”
Mum bobs her head as if she’d forgotten that little nugget.
“Why?” Hattie asks around a mouthful of… something. Is that a doughnut?
Or was a doughnut, rather.
“There was an incident,” Mum begins slowly. “It was shortly after Rosalyn married your father. I host a bi-monthly luncheon for some of the ladies within our circle, but occasionally, one of the ladies takes over if I’m too busy. That particular luncheon was the responsibility of Alec’s mother, Arabella, as I’d been overseas for a state visit. Rosalyn heard of them and assumed she would be invited, but she wasn’t and took it as a personal offense.”
“It was a personal offense,” Alec drawls. “As if my mother would ever willingly put that woman in front of you.”
“That’s beside the point.” Mum barely suppresses her smile. “Not everyone attends every luncheon, and I had long accepted that it would be for the best if I invited her to the next one I was hosting. Either way, Rosalyn contacted Arabella and kicked up quite the fuss. Arabella is very sweet, but…” She hesitates.
Alec smirks. “My mother has a temper so demonic that Satan himself would bow at her feet.”
“I was going to opt for ‘hot-blooded’ as the more diplomatic description.”
“I was merely attempting to portray my mother as accurately as possible for Hattie.”
“No, I get it,” Hattie says, then licks icing from her thumb. “I did think I wouldn’t want to piss her off when I met her at the ball.”
We all nod.
“I highly advise against it,” Mum says. “Anyway, as I’m sure you can imagine, Arabella has quite the influence by virtue of her own wealth and our families being so close. After Rosalyn threatened to complain to me about it using the future in-laws card, I was forced to remove her from the luncheon list so I didn’t make my friends uncomfortable. Honestly, I was rather pleased about that turn of events, even if I did briefly feel sorry for her for getting off on the wrong foot with Arabella.”
“There’s no coming back from that,” I agree. “Do you remember when Katherine Porteous accidentally tripped on a hosepipe a gardener left lying around and splashed mud on her coat?”
Mum shudders. “She blamed poor Katherine more than she did the gardener. Said she should have watched where she was going which, yes, she’s correct, but the gardener really shouldn’t have left the hosepipe there.”
“I think she’s still traumatised,” Alec adds. “I saw her a few weeks ago at a meeting and—”
The door bursts open, cutting him off. Oscar pulls up short when he sees my mother, and we all stare at him for a moment before he bows.
“What are you doing?” Mum asks, standing up. “Stop bowing and tell us what you’ve rushed in here for, you scoundrel!”
He straightens so quickly he might as well have been electrocuted into it. “Oh, um, Your Majesty—”
“Spit it out, Oscar.”
“Aveline stuck her nose in,” he says quickly. “She crossed paths with Jasmine earlier today at a restaurant and… well, it didn’t end well.”
I swing my gaze from Oscar to Mum, noticing Alec doing the same. This could go one of two ways—his sister is someone you really would describe as hot-tempered, and not only is she hot-tempered, but she’s bad tempered.
So when he says she’s ‘stuck her nose in,’ it could mean anything.
“And what,” Mum says slowly. “Does that mean, Oscar Benedict Lindberg?”
I shudder. Not the full name.
Even Alec looks uncomfortable.
Hattie, though? No. She looks as if her favourite soap opera has just dropped right into her lap, and while Alec and I share a nervous glance, she reaches for another sweet treat from the box.
Oscar swallows. “She posted on one of my burners asking if anyone else has noticed how much Rosalyn and Jasmine look alike for an adopted mother and daughter.”
Mum’s eyebrows shoot up, but she doesn’t say a word.
“And it’s rather taken on a life of its own,” he continues, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “People are digging up all sorts of images of them and the rumour that they’re biologically related is growing some serious legs.”
Nobody speaks for a moment as his words sink in.
“The prevailing opinion is that they do look very alike, and they’re asking how it was never noticed before.”
“We had the same discussion,” Alec says, looking to me. “They’re different enough that you can’t see it at first glance, but once it’s pointed out, it’s obvious.”
I nod. “Even with William. She’s a solid blend of them both, whereas Hattie is practically a carbon copy of Francesca.”
Hattie’s lips curve into a small smile. “And thank God for that.”