Page 157 of Joker in the Pack

I burst out laughing. “A holiday sounds wonderful. Anything else?”

“Just one thing. If you could keep quiet about the gunshot wound, I’d appreciate it. My mother would flip if she found out, and Grandma would want to see the evidence.”

“I won’t say anything, I promise.” I gave him a mock salute.

Nye put the car in gear and pulled back onto the carriageway, looking more relaxed than I’d seen him all week. He reached over the centre console and rested one hand on my thigh, and I twined my fingers through his.

“Thank goodness that part’s over,” he said. “Now we just need to deal with my relatives. I should probably give you the low-down.”

“Forewarned is forearmed?”

“Something like that. You remember how you said your mother used to make you read DeBrett’s?”

“Every evening.”

“Mymother could recite it word for word. And there’s my grandmother…”

“Is she the same?”

“Not exactly. My great-grandmother could have written DeBrett’s. Mother idolised her, but Great-Grandma died a couple of years ago. The funeral’s still talked about today—a horse-drawn hearse, morning dress for the men, and she insisted the Bishop of Oxford came and did the service. Mother wore black for a month straight, while Grandma drank half a bottle of sherry at the wake and asked the bishop what he wore under his dress.”

“Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Should I be worried?”

“About Grandma? No. She’ll love you and you’ll love her. It’s my mother you need to watch.”

I wanted to grip Nye’s hand as we walked into the venue, but I looped my arm through his instead. He held the door open, then led me over to a table near the stage. I glanced at the ladies’ outfits as we passed. Marc Jacobs, Versace, Gucci, Vera Wang, and enough fancy shoes to pay off the debt of a third-world country. Dammit, I should have got my credit card out.

Nye shared his mother’s straight nose, high cheekbones, and strong jaw, and I recognised her immediately. He got his eyes from his father—piercing, they missed nothing, and now they regarded me with suspicion.

“Olivia, this is my mother, Lucinda, and my father, George. Mother, Father, this is Olivia.”

“Hello. Good to meet you,” I said.

George nodded, while Lucinda managed a stiff smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“And this is my grandma, Ivy. Grandma, this is—”

“Olivia, I know. Can I offer you both a glass of sherry?”

“Perhaps later, Grandma.”

Ivy was about half Nye’s height, but her hot-pink cocktail dress spoke of a big personality. She’d stuck a lily behind one ear and wore enough diamonds to give a hip-hop star a run for his money.

She pulled me down and kissed me on both cheeks before a waiter handed me a glass of champagne. “Welcome to the family, sweetie. It’s nice to have another girl, isn’t it, Cindy.”

“It’s Lucinda,” Nye’s mother said through gritted teeth. “I suppose I should look on the bright side. At least you didn’t bring that awful Daniela girl again.”

“I rather liked Daniela,” Ivy said. “What was that dance she taught me?”

“Twerking, Grandma,” Nye told her.

I tried to avoid spitting my champagne across the table and ended up choking on it instead. That earned me a couple of dirty looks.

“Dan’s a colleague from work,” Nye whispered. “She helped me out when I was in a bind. Mother threatened to set me up with a girl who laughs like a horse.”

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