Page 93 of Obsessed Heir

“It’s okay, Miss Opal.” Abigail doesn’t spare me a glance. “Barron shared a concern about the money that’s been spent because of me.”

The fact she can cut away and dismiss me with the same resolve my mother uses only manages to piss me off even more.

“What?” Mother’s voice is barely audible. She turns to me, her expression laced with shock and consternation.

Oh hell. Now I’ll have to explain myself again. No doubt it’ll end with another scolding, followed by a fucking lecture.

I let out a harsh breath. If it was anyone else, I’d set them straight or run them the hell off, but my mother has earned her place. There’s no use upsetting her and having this thing escalate. “We can discuss it after dinner.”

Mother turns to Abigail. “You’ll-you’ll join us, dear?” she asks, her tone gentler. “For dinner, I mean.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Abigail replies politely.

“Did you have lunch?” Mother asks.

“No, ma’am. I went ashore,” she says, her voice wavering.

The way she suddenly lost her conviction at the end puts me on alert. What happened when she went ashore? She should have had security with her. Why didn’t I assign someone?

“Then you must join us.”

“I’m not really hungry, ma’am,” Abigail assures her.

And that’s a problem if she’s carrying my heir. I won’t allow her or my child to suffer because of her sensibilities. “You’ll eat.”

Her chin goes up in a too-familiar gesture. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Exactly what sheshouldn’thave said. “You’ll eat if I have to tie you down and spoon-feed you myself.”

Her nostrils flare, and her eyes take on a hard glint. “You don’townme, Barron. You can’t?—”

A sudden gasp from Mother catches me off guard.

“My God.” She puts her hand to her chest, her complexion losing its healthy color. “Youdidtell her.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Abigail

“You see,” Barron adds with that bored note in his voice. “You didn’t need a helper after all.”

I don’t spare him a glance.

Miss Opal glances over her shoulder. “Of course I did,” she says, appalled. “And I still do.”

I draw on my reserve of patience to keep my mouth shut then think better of it. This might be a good time for her to talk to Barron about her concerns. “It’s okay, Miss Opal.” I give him a quick glance. “Barron shared a concern about the money that’s been spent because of me.”

“What?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Clearly, she isn’t ready to discuss her medical issues.

“We can discuss it after dinner,” Barron says, stone-faced.

“You’ll-you’ll join us, dear?” she says, her voice wavering. “For dinner, I mean.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I hate to disappoint her, but there’s no way I can sit through dinner with him. Not with this secrecy erupting between us.

“Did you have lunch?” Miss Opal asks.

“No, ma’am. I went ashore,” I reply, anticipating one of the famous McClelland maneuvers.

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