Page 20 of Battle Lines

“Graham was there?” Disapproval hung off each syllable and I gave a graceless shrug.

“Ezra had his own business. It didn’t affect ours.”

Rather than just accept that answer, Grandfather studied me for a moment and I considered the different angles.

“He drove the cost up,” I could admit. “Which did affect how much we paid.”

“The price is irrelevant,” Grandfather scolded. “His motives, however…”

He’d been there for Julius King. “His motives are his own. I was successful in the endeavor, the piece is on its way to Der Sonne.” The family estate was on Long Island.

Rather than comment, Grandfather waited for the fish to be cleared away and the Clapassade to be served and the Chateau Mouton to be poured. Only after we were alone again did he give me a firm look. “Mr. Hardigan?”

“...is very well,” I told him, choosing to deflect the actual question. “Thank you for asking.”

“Elaine,” Grandfather corrected and I lifted my shoulders.

“I enjoy his company and he’s Emersyn’s brother—”

“He’s also the child of that bastard King.”

“Through no fault of his own,” I reminded him. “The sins of the father—or the mother—do not belong to the child.”

Of all of us, I should not have to remind him of this and Grandfather’s expression darkened. “King is not to be trusted.”

“Agreed. He continues to play whatever game it is, and Milo continues to be on our side. There is no love lost there. He doesn’t trust King any more than we do. His goalandmine is to protect our families.”

Grandfather sighed. He did not like it. Not that anyone required him to like it. I didn’t care for it either. Still, he seemed to consider all of it before he took a sip of his wine and then cut into the meal. The lamb was an especially tender cut and it had been cooked to perfection.

The only question that remained was whether Grandfather would let the topic of Milo go. He knew Milo and I were sharing the apartment. I hadn’t hidden it, nor would I pretend anything else. I had also taken care to not flaunt Milo in his face. Something he would disapprove of—at least right now.

The silence went on long enough that concern nibbled at me.

“The Masquerade is coming,” he said finally. “Invitations have gone out.”

I didn’t sigh in relief because this change of subject was not a pleasant one. “Andrea will be coming home for it.” She’d already sent me a message. “I’ve made an appointment for dresses…”

“You will probably be expected,” Grandfather continued. “They will be hosting it at Waltham Corners. You’ll represent the family…”

“Andrea—” I barely got her name out but Grandfather merely shook his head. Andrea was a Reed. She was also a Benedict, but he wouldn’t countenance the argument.

“As I was saying,” he continued. “You will represent the family. Take Mr. Hardigan as your escort. It will stymie the others and create a stir.”

I frowned.

“It’s a bold play, one they won’t care for nor will they understand.”

I wasn’t sure I understood. “I don’t want to use Milo that way…”

“We all use the people around us, darling girl. It is the cost of doing business. His presence will unsettle enough and I rather look forward to what the discussion will be in the weeks after.”

His very unfriendly expression didn’t linger.

“Your grandmother’s birthday is also coming up.”

A better subject. “I won’t miss it,” I promised.

“I know you won’t—perhaps the rum dessert tonight.”

---