Page 44 of The Scandal You Started
It was almost structured the same as the one she and Dominic were staying in, with a living room on one side, stairs on the opposite, and a short corridor to the bathroom and utility tuckedbehind that. But the kitchen-diner was a much bigger L-shaped area with views that overlooked the river.
There was an old-school wood kitchen in the top right and a dining table in the bottom corner that could seat eight. It was tied together by the cozy sitting space on the left with two dark-brown leather sofas perpendicular to each other, a big TV screen attached to the wall, and a bunch of wooden and glass knick-knacks that embodied the stories of the Griffins’ lives.
“Winnie, my love,” Declan called. “Tear yourself away from the cooker for a second. They’re here.”
Winnie Griffin threw a quick glance over her shoulder from where she was stirring the contents of a big, orange pot on the stove. Her bright, blue eyes popped wide in delight as her low ponytail of curly, blonde hair swished against her back.
“Oh, Rayna dear,” she chirped. “One moment.”
With another stir, she set the wooden spatula down and popped a lid on the pot. Then sashayed her curvaceous figure over to them with the biggest of grins that epitomised who she was.
The sweet, elegant, vivacious woman and mother of three had endless amounts of love and attention to give in every detail of her life. Maybe that was why even at the age of fifty-three, her skin still glowed, and her freckled cheeks were always rosy. That didn’t, however, mean she didn’t have a fiery streak to fear when someone crossed her. But Declan Griffin never let a single bad word reach his beloved wife, so Winnie rarely ever had a reason to be angry.
“Sweetie, how are you?” Winnie said and engulfed Rayna in a squishing hug as if they hadn’t seen each other in months.
“I’m good,” Rayna sang and cuddled into the woman. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been wonderful, dear.”
Rayna held out the handpicked bouquet. “These are for you.”
The older woman placed a hand over her heart and cooed happily. “Oh, they’re absolutely gorgeous. Thank you, dearest.” She took them in her arm then snuck a teasing glance at her husband. “At leastyoubrought me flowers this week.”
Declan’s brows hooked up at the obvious insinuation, and he prowled towards her with a playful smirk. “You know exactly why I didn’t, my love. So don’t you dare try to stir trouble and make me look like a bad husband.”
The woman chuckled as Declan planted a nipping kiss on her cheek. He swiped the flowers out of her hand and instructed Boris to sit as he moved away.
Winnie then turned to Dominic, who’d been quietly observing by Rayna’s side. “I do apologise, Lord Norland, I haven’t yet introduced myself, have I? I’m Winnie Griffin, and it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
Dominic hugged the covered bowl of salad in one arm and bowed over Winnie’s outstretched hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs Griffin.” He planted a soft kiss against her knuckles and rose, his eyes sparkling with a princely smile. “And please, call me Dominic.”
“Then do call me Aunt Win. Mrs Griffin sounds far too formal.”
He gave her an acquiescing nod. “Then, Aunt Win, please accept my gratitude for the delicious meal you provided us on my first day here. I do believe that was the best stew I have ever had the privilege of tasting.”
The pink under the older woman’s cheeks heightened as she waved a hand around. “It needed five more minutes in the pot, but I’m delighted to hear you enjoyed it.” She gestured to the bowl in his arms while looking at Rayna. “What did you go and make, dear?”
“Just some salad.”
“Oh, Rayna,” her aunt cooed. “You didn’t have to. But that was lovely of you.” Dominic set the bowl in Winnie’s outstretched hands. “Well, make yourselves comfortable. Dinner’s almost ready, so I hope you’re hungry.”
“Do you need—” Rayna started.
“Oh, no.” Winnie waved her off as she headed towards the kitchen. Boris plodded after her. “Your uncle is going to lay the table, so you and Dominic just relax. He’ll pour you drinks too.”
“Are V and George on their way?” Rayna asked, taking two steps to drop her small handbag down on the round coffee table tucked in the corner of the two sofas.
“Yes, George messaged that they were ten minutes away about five minutes ago,” her uncle said, pulling several glasses out of one wall cupboard.
“What about Benedict? Is he working a late shift today?”
Just as the question left her mouth, a pair of hands grasped her shoulders and rattled her like a pair of dice. She tore around to face a younger version of Declan Griffin, but with the bright blue eyes of his mother.
“Benedict,” she snapped, and he flinched back, cackling proudly.
Once upon a time, Benedict Griffin had been the scrawny boy with his nose stuck in books about the human body and dinosaurs, who Rayna and George had protected from bullies in school. But somewhere between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, the world took tweezers to his head and feet and stretched him until he stood nearly half a head taller than his dad.
Now at the age of twenty-six, regular rugby sessions with George had helped bulk out his frame. But with barely a hair on his chin, he still had that nerdy, boyish look to him with a twinkling smile, pale golden skin, and floppy brown hair that he tended to keep on the shorter side.
