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Portia shot me a pleading look.
I took a fortifying breath.
And then another one.
“I hope our cook can impress the likes of a student of Le Cordon Bleu,” Richard remarked.
I turned to him and saw his tone might have been dull, but he was attempting to be game too.
“You have excellent taste in champagne,” I noted.
“I’m glad you approve,” he replied.
“So I have every hope.”
He jutted his chin toward me.
“Daniel’s taking us to some ruins tomorrow,” Portia announced as Stevenson returned with the young man who took my car. He was now wearing a black vest, matching trousers, a black tie (again adorned with the family shield), a crisp, painstakingly ironed, white shirt, and a long white apron tied meticulously around his waist.
He was also carrying a turquoise and white soup tureen on a gold platter.
“We’re having a day of it. Starting with a tramp around the village. I hope you girls brought warm clothes,” Daniel declared.
The soup was served to Jane first. I watched carefully as she helped herself. Although I’d been formally served before, the traditions of the house could vary.
I should have known in this house they would not.
The man went to Lou next, and fortunately she’d been watching too.
“Portia gave us deep insights on what to pack,” I assured Daniel.
“Excellent,” he squawked.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know the story. How did you two meet?” Lou asked.
Portia blushed. Daniel fidgeted with his tie. I halted in the endeavor of serving my own soup, because Portia had told me they’d been set up by mutual friends, which should not earn a blush or a tie fidget.
“Weren’t you set up?” I asked.
“Yes,” Portia answered quickly.
Meaning: Lie.
I finished ladling my soup.
Nothing more was said on the subject of their meeting, though I made a mental note to bring it up when I had some time alone with my sister.
We all fell into uncomfortable silence as we sipped our soup.
It was a heavy, but delicious cream of brie.
I was on spoonful number three when a deep, droll, silky voice noted, “It seems the family text string has failed us yet again.”
I had my spoon over my bowl and my eyes on the double doors that led into the Turquoise Room as Ian Alcott sauntered in.
Well, hell.
He wasn’t just dark to Daniel’s light.
