Неизвестно - Megan's mate

Oh, Lord, Coco thought, don't leave me.

Now's a perfect time. We're

under control here. Let's do it in your office, shall we?

She took Megan firmly by

the arm.

Mr. Van Horne can handle things for a few minutes.

Without waiting for

his assent, she hurried from the room.

Details, details,

Coco said gaily, and clung

to Megan as though she were a life raft in a churning sea.

It seems the more you

handle, the more there are.

Coco, are you all right?

Oh, of course.

But she pressed a hand to her heart.

Just a little contretemps with

Mr. Van Horne. But that's nothing I can't deal with.

She hoped.

How are your

accounts coming along, dear? I must say I'd hoped you'd find time to glance at Fergus's book.

Actually, I have—

Not that we want you working too hard.

With the buzz going on in Coco's head, she didn't hear a word Megan said.

We want you to feel right at home here, to enjoy yourself. To relax. After all the trouble and excitement last year, we all want to relax. I don't think any of us could stand any more crises.

I do not have, nor do I require, a reservation.

The crackling, irate voice stopped Coco in her tracks. The becoming flush in her cheeks faded to a dead white.

Dear God, no. It can't be.

Coco?

Megan took a firmer grip on Coco's arm. She felt the tremor and wondered if she could hold the woman up if she fainted.

Young man.

The voice rose, echoing off the walls.

Do you know who I am?

Aunt Colleen,

Coco said in a shaky whisper. She let go one last shuddering moan, drew in a bracing breath, then walked bravely into the lobby.

Aunt Colleen,

she

said in an entirely different tone.

What a lovely surprise.

Shock, you mean.

Colleen accepted her niece's kiss, then rapped her cane on the floor. She was tall, thin as a rail and formidable as iron in a raw-silk suit and pearls as white as her hair.

I see you've filled the place with strangers. Better to have it burned to the ground. Tell this insolent boy to have my bags taken up.

Of course.

Coco gestured for a bellman herself.

In the family wing, second floor,

first room on the right,

she instructed.

And don't toss those bags around, boy.

Colleen leaned on her gold-tipped cane and studied Megan,

Who's this?

You remember Megan, Aunt Colleen. Sloan's sister? You met at Amanda's wedding.

Yes, yes.

Colleen's eyes narrowed, measured,

Got a son, don't you?

Colleen

knew all there was to know about Kevin. Had made it her business to know.

Yes, I do. It's nice to see you again, Miss Calhoun.

Ha. You'd be the only one of this lot who thinks so.

Ignoring them both, she

walked to Bianca's portrait, studied it and the emeralds glistening in their case. She sighed, but so quietly no one could hear.

I want brandy, Cordelia, before I take a look at what you've done to this place.

Of course. We'll just go into the family wing. Megan, please, join us.

It was impossible to deny the plea in Coco's eyes.

A few moments later, they had settled into the family parlor. Here, the wallpaper was still faded, peeling in spots. There were scars on the floor in front of the fireplace where errant embers had seared and burned.

Nothing's changed here, I see.

Colleen sat like a queen in a wing chair.

We've concentrated on the hotel wing.

Nervous and babbling, Coco poured

brandy.

Now that it's done, we're beginning renovations. Two of the bedrooms are finished. And the nursery's lovely.

Humph.

She'd come specifically to see the children and only secondarily to drive Coco mad.

Where is everyone? I come to see my family and find nothing but strangers.

They'll be along. We're having a dinner party tonight, Aunt Colleen.

Coco kept the

brilliant smile plastered on her face.

Trent's father's joining us for a few days.

Aging playboy,

Colleen mumbled into her brandy.

You.

She pointed at Megan.

Accountant, aren't you?

Yes, ma'am.

Megan's a whiz with figures,

Coco said desperately.

We're so grateful she's here.

And Kevin, too, of course. He's a darling boy.

I'm talking to the girl, Cordelia. Go fuss in the kitchen.

But—

Go on, go on.

With an apologetic look for Megan, Coco fled.

The boy'll be nine soon?

Yes, in a couple of months.

She was prepared, braced, for a scathing comment on his lineage.

Tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair, Colleen nodded.

Get along with

Suzanna's brood, does he?

Very well. They've rarely been apart since we arrived.

Megan did her best not to

squirm.

It's been wonderful for him. And for me.

Dumont bothering you?

Megan blinked.

I beg your pardon?

Don't be a fool, girl, I asked if that excuse for a human being has been bothering you.

Megan's spine straightened like a steel rod.

No. I haven't seen or heard from Baxter since before Kevin was born.

You will.

Colken scowled and leaned forward. She wanted to get a handle on this

Megan O'Riley.

He's been making inquiries.

Megan's fingers clenched on the snifter of brandy.

I don't understand.

Poking his nose in, asking questions.

Colleen gave her cane an imperious thump.

How do you know?

I keep my ear to the ground when it comes to family.

Eyes bright, Colleen waited

for a reaction, got none.

You moved here, didn't you? Your son's been accepted as Alex and Jenny and Christian'sbrother.

Ice was forming in Megan's stomach, thin, brittle strips of it.

That has nothing to do

with him.

Don't be a fool. A man like Dumont thinks the world revolves around him. His eye's on politics, girl, and the way that particular circus is running, a few well-chosen words from you to the right reporter...

The i.e. was pleasant enough to make Colleen smile.

Well, his road to Washington would be a steeper climb.

I've no intention of going to the press, of exposing Kevin to public attention.

Wise.

Colleen sipped again.

A pity, but wise. You tell me if he tries anything. I'd like to tangle with him again.

I can handle it myself.

Colleen lifted one snowy brow.

Perhaps you can.

How come I have to wear a dumb tie?

Kevin squirmed while Megan fumbled with the knot. Her fingers had been stiff and cold ever since her talk with Colleen.

Because it's a special dinner and you need to look your best.

Ties are stupid. I bet Alex doesn't have to wear a stupid tie.

I don't know what Alex is wearing,

Megan said, with the last of her patience.

But

you're doing as you're told.

The sharp tone, rarely heard, had his bottom lip poking out.

I'd rather have pizza.

Well, you're not having pizza. Damn it, Kevin, hold still!

It's choking me.

I'm

going to choke you in a minute.

She blew her hair out of her eyes and secured the knot.

There. You look very handsome.

I look like a dork.

Fine, you look like a dork. Now put your shoes on.

Kevin scowled at the shiny black loafers.

I hate those shoes. I want to wear my sneakers.

Exasperated, she leaned down until their faces were level.

Young man, you will put

your shoes on, and you will watch your tone of voice. Or you'll find yourself in very hot water.

Megan marched out of his room and across the hall to her own. Snatching her brush from the dresser, she began to drag it through her hair. She didn't want to go to the damn dinner party, either. The aspirin she'd downed an hour before hadn't even touched the splitting headache slicing through her skull. But she had to put on her party face and go down, pretend she wasn't terrified and angry and sick with worry over Baxter Dumont.