Lila braked inside her family’s garage and slammed the sedan’s door, nearly forgetting to adjust her scarf before disembarking. She ignored the two blackcoats in the garage, and neither tried to speak with her. They looked at her as one looks at a bomb about to explode.
Lila also ignored Sutton, who paced outside the garage, waiting for her as she brushed past. “Chief—”
“If you intend to yell, do it at another time.”
Sutton frowned. “This afternoon, then, when you’ve had a chance to calm down.”
“Keep your palm with you. I’ll send you orders later.”
The commander stopped at the great house’s front door.
A young footman opened it. He didn’t utter a single word as Lila hurried past.
She jogged upstairs and dropped her crimson coat on her bedroom floor before falling into her desk chair.
She’d had a bit more time to think on her way home from the hospital, and those thoughts had not led anywhere she wanted to go. After setting her computer to delete all of La Roux’s snoops on her desktop and palm, she ran several searches.
It took only a few hours to confirm what she had feared.
Snatching up her palm, she called a familiar number.
While she waited, Isabel brought up a bottle of wine and placed it on her desk, then bowed and withdrew. The scent of Gregorie filled the room as Lila uncorked with bottle with a hollow pop. It wasn’t until after she’d poured her first glass that she realized her mistake.
“Damn it,” she hissed, knowing she’d have to get along without wine for a while. Nine months, to be specific, not unless she miscarried.
Not unless she took care of the baby in a different way.
Lila shook her h
ead, not wanting to think about it.
Thumbing the Gregorie label, she left the bottle behind and moved to the center of the couch, not a single light turned on to expose her swollen jaw.
Jewel barged in moments later with barely a knock. Her hair had been styled into a few thick curls, which had been swept off her neck in a swishing ponytail. She wore her whitecoat, the Randolph coat of arms stitched in crimson on her breast, and stylish boots of the same hue. “Louis and I were about to leave for a walk. What is so important that—”
Lila kicked the coffee table away.
It smacked against the edge of her dresser.
Jewel startled, and she dropped the gloves she’d been twirling in her hand. They hit the floor with a dull flop.
Lila toed an ottoman before her. “Sit.”
Jewel swallowed and shook her head. “Later. Louis is waiting.”
“I said, sit down.”
“Why are you so angry?” Jewel asked, sitting on the ottoman as though merely humoring her. “You sound sick. Did—”
“I blamed Mother first,” Lila interrupted, crossing one leg over the other. “I always blame Mother for everything, but sometimes she just observes someone else’s betrayal and does nothing if it benefits her agenda. I’m chief of the family’s militia, Jewel. Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?”
Jewel’s eyes widened slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did Mother do now?”
“Nothing. She did absolutely nothing. That probably pisses me off the most. Why would you do it, Jewel? Why would you hurt the one you claim to love?”
“I would never hurt you.”
“I’m not talking about me, and you know it. I was too quick to judge Mother. She had nothing to gain with this plan, except deniability. That’s why she never said a word against it.”