Page 93 of The Dravenhearst Brides
“You could go to him.” Margot couldn’t keep the judgment from her voice. “You could hold him. Dry his tears and rock him to sleep.”Mother him.
“Is that what you think motherhood is? You imagine it like Madonna and child?” Babette arched an eyebrow. “You’ve much to learn. And learn you shall.” She jutted her chin toward Margot’s stomach.
“He’s your son.”
“Yes, he is. And when I first gazed upon his face the day he was born, do you know what I saw?”
Margot slipped Babette’s toe inside the silk sheath, then unrolled it over her ice-cold leg. When she reached the top, unfurling mid-thigh and releasing as rapidly as she could, she looked at the ghost bride from beneath frost-crusted lashes.
“I saw what he would grow to be,” Babette continued. “I saw a Dravenhearst man in my arms. A deadly one, just like all the rest. It’s verydangerous to love a Dravenhearst…even more dangerous, perhaps, to be loved by one.”
“What does that mean?”
The door swung open with abang. Margot stumbled away from Babette.
“Darling! Your timing is impeccable.” Babette lifted the remaining stocking for her husband. “Would you be a dear?”
“Merrick stopped crying,” Richard said, frozen several feet away.
“Yes, Evangeline is with him. That’s what we pay her for, after all.”
He pursed his lips. Margot drifted nearer, curious. She’d never been this close to Richard. His dark hair, stubbled jaw—the resemblance was uncanny. But it was his hands that stopped her dead in her tracks. They hung loose at his sides, his fingers unfurled. The sheer breadth of them, the veins over knuckles, the shape and slender length of the fingers…
Margot had been touched by those hands. Merrick’s hands.
Across the room, Babette smiled slowly, wicked with satisfaction.Another Dravenhearst man…just like all the rest.
“WhatIpay her for,” Richard said.
“Semantics.” Babette waved his comment away. Her hemline went up again, curtain rising. Bare leg, pointed toes. “Be a dear, won’t you?” She offered him the remaining silk stocking.
Richard’s scowl lifted in a grin. He dropped to his knees, planting a kiss on Babette’s exposed knee. He rolled the stocking upward with practiced fingers, lingering over her thigh. Wrapping his hand around bare skin. Possessive.
“Not now, darling,” Babette murmured. “Guests are arriving.”
“There are always guests arriving,” he said. “Always a full house. Maybe I want you all to myself tonight. I doubt they’ll even notice.”
“I’ll be missed.” She rose with a laugh, her exquisite gown falling to the floor. Curtain down, show over.
His scowl returned. Richard strode to the French doors, raising an arm over his head to lean on the frame as he gazed into the night. Lights shone on the drive—a few guests arriving in motorcars, more still in carriages. “What ifImiss you? What if Merrick and I both miss you?”
A flicker in Babette’s eye. Annoyance. “You have me all the time.”
“Do I?” Richard continued to stare at the lineup of arriving guests. He took a deep breath. “Is Alastair coming tonight?”
Silence.
Margot sank back, blending in with the walls. She held her breath.
“Did you invite—”
“It’s a party!” Babette threw up her hands. “Everyone between here and Louisville is invited. How should I know if—”
The speed with which he moved was astounding. Faster than a panther, he crossed the room in a dark blur and slammed Babette against the wall with the force of thunder, a crashing boom that rattled the whole house.
Margot cried out, but no one glanced her way. This memory would play on with or without her.
“Goddammit, Babette! You promised.”
