Page 39 of Masquerade

CHAPTER SEVEN

Loud curses and slammingdoors greeted Kate when she arrived home. She followed the music to Anna’s bedroom to find her sister ferreting through her wardrobe.

“What are you doing?”

“Designing your country wardrobe.” Anna flung a balled-up piece of fabric over her shoulder.

Kate looked at the clothes strewn on the bed. “Five days, Anna, not five months.”

“You need to be prepared for every eventuality.”

“What eventuality is this for?” Kate hoicked a clotted-cream-coloured, thigh-length, shoestring-strap, silk nightdress out of the pile and held it in the air. The nightdress was designed to be removed.

“You weren’t planning to sleep naked?” Anna’s eyebrows stretched into her fringe. “Now that really is asking for trouble. What if there’s a fire?”

“You’re crazy you know.” Kate succumbed to giggles, dropping onto the end of the bed. “A few simple outfits. Montveau is small and unpretentious.”

“Are you calling my clothes pretentious?” Anna pushed purple velvet overalls to one side and sat.

“Actually, I’ve always liked those overalls.”

“Take them. They’re yours. I must have been channelling you when I bought them.” Anna thrust them into her hands. “How’d tonight go?”

“Better than I expected.” She hadn’t expected the ease she found in Liam’s company and had worried the sizzle would derail her professional obligations.

“And?”

She rolled the overalls into a ball, distracting neither of them. “You know I’ve been stuck on my male lead for book three?”

“Because the sexy beast couldn’t really do deep and meaningful, and you were never going to make that Andrew-type lawyer character a lead.”

“Forget Andrew for the moment.”

“Happy to. I never liked him.” Anna picked up a gold lamé cocktail dress from the pile on the floor and held it against her chest as if testing for size.

“Is that right?” Kate drawled.

Anna was the only person she’d confided in. She’d been too excited for caution when an editor had asked for a full manuscript. Her head had been light, her heart had jumped like an out-of-control jackhammer as disbelief had been replaced by a bubbling excitement. Andrew had arrived home, and she’d handed him the letter. He’d laughed. Like her father, his disdain as brutal as a backhander.

Anna leaned against her sister’s shoulder. “Okay, okay, I said that already.”

“Like a thousand times,” Kate paused for dramatic effect. “After the event.”

“You came up for air after finishing that manuscript, and I thought you deserved to be swept off your feet.” Anna, her warrior sister, still blamed herself for failing to read Andrew correctly. “I was as fooled as you were by the pretty packaging.”

“He doxxed me.” Kate’s stunned disbelief still echoed in her head. She’d thought he’d believed in her, believed in her writing. He’d said as much. “To control me.”

“I know that, honey.” Anna dropped the dress and slid her hand into Kate’s.

“Why didn’t I anticipate that? ‘Katie’s thinking of writing romance novels. Imagine the shame with her literary heritage. We can’t let her do that to herself.’ He broadcast to everyone we knew, then encouraged them to deluge me with negative posts.”

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