Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
This meant two unfortunate things occurred next.
One, Battle offered me his arm (likely not wanting me tripped or to swoon again), and so I wouldn’t appear ungracious, I was forced to take it.
And two happened when we walked next door, to a dining room papered in gold damask with cream wainscotting and a large, oval, luscious African mahogany table dressed in a stunning candelabra, the candles flickering, more beautiful but unique floral arrangements, and five place settings of crystal, fine china and silver cutlery cuddled at one end.
This wasn’t what was unfortunate.
What was unfortunate was that Chastity was already seated to the left of the head of the table, Temperance next to her. And on the opposite side, Prudence sat at a setting that left only the head of the table and the seat right next to it open.
And this meant I’d be sitting directly to Battle’s right.
Marvelous.
Things got worse when Battle demonstrated more gallantry by helping with my seat.
“Thank you,” I murmured, setting my drink down and tucking my bag in my lap.
“My pleasure,” he purred while taking his own seat.
I hoped the boob tape I was forced to use to pull off this dress held up as that part of my anatomy reacted to his words.
Ugh.
Kill me.
As I put my napkin over my bag in my lap (and made note none of the other ladies had them), in came Fitzgibbons with a bottle of wine wrapped in linen, and Scotty with a soup tureen.
“Did you ever meet your great-grandfather, Charlie?” Chastity spoke directly to me for the first time by whisper-asking this while Fitzgibbons filled our white wine glasses and we served ourselves soup (creamy prawn and crab bisque, it smelled delicious).
“No, he died before I was born,” I told her. “Though, he lived a long life. And my mom adored him.”
“Obviously, he married,” Temperance said. “Did you know your great-grandmother?”
I shook my head and spooned into the soup I’d placed into the bowl over my gold charger. “She was still alive when I was born, and I’m told I met her, but I was too young to remember.”
“Harmony never married,” Chastity whispered forlornly to her soup.
“And good for her she didn’t,” Temperance stated firmly. “Serves Saint right to be robbed of more progeny after breaking his own daughter’s heart.”
“Yes, but perhaps she was lonely,” Prudence said, performing a miracle since what she said made me shift focus from my delicious soup to her at my side.
She didn’t look upset, just earnest and into the conversation.
“There isn’t a female alive who needs a man,” Temperance retorted.
At that, I turned to Battle to watch his reaction to this statement, however, what I saw was that it had no effect on him.
Though he, too, liked the soup.
“But maybe she wanted one,” Prudence suggested.
“We all want something from them, darling,” Temperance drawled. “But once that’s had, the rest of what they have to offer is superfluous.”
At that, Battle stopped sipping his soup and smiled indulgently at his eldest sister.
And yes.
You guessed it.
I not only wished I’d never witnessed that smile on his fabulous lips, I also wished I’d see it again and again and again, all those times aimed at me.
“It’s like you agree with her, Battie,” Chastity whisper-rebuked his magnificent smile.
“I do agree with her, Chassie,” he replied.
“You do?” Prudence asked.
“Men wouldn’t have put so much effort into holding women down over the millennium if we actually thought you were the weaker sex,” Battle stated. “They did it because they knew women would do a better job if they had the running of the world, and one thing a man’s ego can’t abide is anyone doing a better job than him.”
Oh crap.
Was I going to have to like this guy?
“I adore you,” Temperance cooed at her brother.
“Only when I agree with you,” he replied.
“Indeed.” Temperance smiled an icy-cool, but somehow genuinely loving smile.
No question, I totally liked Temperance.
In order to guide myself out of the zone of Battle (maybe) making me like him, or at least tolerate him, I addressed Prudence, “So tomorrow, tour of The Downs and having a look at the attics, then you’ll show me the studio?”
“That sounds perfect,” she chirruped.
“Then, I’d like to get into what you’ve uncovered, get a plan to organize it. Could you give me a day or two with that, and after I feel I have a handle on it, we can head to Glastonbury?”
That weird static feeling came back to the air after I said this.
But Prudence suddenly appeared uncomfortable. “Well, about that—”
After what Battle told me, I wasn’t going to let her wheedle out of it.
“Or, we could go the day after tomorrow,” I suggested. “Before I get stuck in.”
Heading off Prudence’s response, Temperance said, “I say you go then. You’re in danger of running into a town overflowing with weekend-tripper flower children, white witches and Druids if you wait much past that.”