Page 180
“I don’t know.”
“Did she pack a bag?”
His jaw tightens. “I have nothing else to tell you.”
His gaze flicks through the open doorway toward the entrance hall, and I understand he’d risk his job by saying anything more.
“I need to speak to Art.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Kinnane are having their afternoon drinks in the garden room. They shouldn’t be disturbed.”
“I need to know where Eilish is.”
I slip past him before he closes the gap.
“Miss Tallon, you shouldn’t go inside.”
The maid near the staircase freezes with a vase in her hands. Knowing the layout of this house like it was my own, I march through the corridors, my pulse ticking.
Two men I recognize from Art’s security detail rise from chairs beside the study, neither stop me, but they do tail me.
The door to the garden room stands open and a soft wave of jasmine greets me as I move inside. Mara is perched on a pale green sofa beside the windows, a full glass of gin and ice in her hand. Art occupies the armchair opposite with a scotch in one hand and a newspaper spread across his lap.
He glances up, though Mara keeps her attention on the manicured lawn outside.
“Where did Eilish go?” I ask, moving deeper into the room.
Art glances back at the paper and turns a page. “You may have walked freely through this house while my daughter lived here, but that privilege ends today.”
My brows snap together. “I don’t understand?”
He takes a slow sip of his drink and lets my confusion bleed. Art’s known me since I was eighteen, but there’s no trace of friendliness in his demeanor today.
Rather, the head of the Kinnane family reads the paper, ignoring me. I draw in a steadying breath through my nose.
“Where’s Eilish?”
“Since her engagement to Fionn Harrington ended, I’ve secured another husband for her.”
The air fills my lungs in a muted gasp, and my heart bucks. “She’s not marrying Fionn?”
"My daughter's future has been rearranged."
My car key bites into my palm. “By whom?"
"By me."
Mara lifts her glass and sips through the thin black straw, though she still won’t look over, which tells me something is very wrong.
“But she’s my best friend.”
“As of tonight, she’ll be a wife with more to think about than your friendship.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“No.”
When Mara places her gin on the table, I speak to her directly. “Mara… Will Eilish be happy with this new man?”
