by Tinnean
“Is it?” I took a sip and gasped, nearly choking from the burn.
“Warned you.” Gregor picked up his bun and bit into it. “That’s more like it. Y’know, telling my sister is going to be an adventure.”
“Why?” Mother paused in pouring cream into her coffee and glanced across at him. “Alyona always seemed to like me.”
“She loves you, Portia. She’ll never see me as good enough for you.”
“We’ll just have to keep talking to her until she sees the light.”
“God, Portia!” He leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear, and she gave him a fond smile and patted his cheek.
I couldn’t help recalling the fact that Sebrings only loved once. God knew I’d… not ruined my life, but certainly put it on hold, thinking Armand Bauchet had been my love and that I’d lost him. How was Gregor—I moved my hand, and my silverware fell to the floor. “Oh, how clumsy of me! Gregor, would you mind asking Chris if he’ll give you another place setting?”
“Sure thing, Quinn.” A man on a mission, he was up and out of his chair, searching for our waiter, and I knew I wouldn’t have much time.
“Mother—”
“You’re not clumsy, Quinton. What’s disturbing you? Surely you don’t object to Gregor because of his ancestry.”
“Of course not. But I don’t want to see him hurt.”
“And you’re worried because Sebrings only love once.”
“Yes, I am.” Our minds also seemed to run in sync.
She unfastened a locket I hadn’t seen her wear before. “Ludovic gave me this for Boxing Day.” She pressed the catch and then held it so I could read what was engraved inside.
Just because the way you love someone isn’t the way they want you to... It doesn’t mean you don’t love them with all you have.
She caressed my cheek. “I don’t want to see him hurt any more than you do, sweetheart.” She closed the locket.
“He’s a very lucky man.” I took the locket from her, stood, and fastened it around her neck.
“I think we’re both lucky.”
“Jesus, I thought I’d have to wrestle him for these.” Gregor handed me a pristine cloth napkin wrapped around a fork, knife, and spoon. “He wanted to bring them to you himself.”
“Thank you for saving me from a fate worse than death.”
“Quinton!” Gregor gave me a poke. I grinned at him and sat down, and he took his own seat. “Both lucky about what?” he asked.
“You know what they say about the second time around, dear one.” Once again, Mother rested her hand on his arm.
Gregor flushed, and his eyes became over-bright. “Thank you.” He took her hand, turned it over, and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Thank you for letting me love you.”
I was more pleased than I could say that two people I cared most for… well, two of the three people… were so happy with each other.
I started to reach for the Bloody Mary, thought better of it, and picked up my coffee cup instead. Charmaine might have strange ideas when it came to drinks, but their coffee was excellent. I knew this was made from ground beans; I’d have to ask Chris if he knew what kind they were. If I could find them, I’d make this for Mark the next time he stayed over.
Gregor cleared his throat and turned back to me. “Now, where were we?”
“You and Mother were flying to New York to tell Alyona tomorrow.” I smiled at him and sipped my coffee. “So no one else knows?”
“No. We felt you should be the first to know. I plan to call your uncles later this afternoon. Tony will have to be notified first. He’ll tell Bryan. Once that’s done, I’ll call Jefferson, and of course he’ll tell Ludovic.”
“What about Lord Creighton?” I remembered the letter she’d been writing to her godmother’s son when I’d come to dinner on my birthday.
“Yes. Jack. On Tuesday, I’ll be flying to London for a few days, and I’ll tell him then.”
“I guess that’s only right. Gregor, you’re going with her?”
“Normally I would. As your mother’s bodyguard, no one would think twice about it. But in this instance… Portia feels it would be like a slap in the face to Abberley, and he’s a good man.”
“Just not the best man, hmm?”
“Not for me.” Mother smiled at Gregor again, and he looked like he’d been given the keys to the kingdom. “I really don’t need anyone to accompany me, Quinton.”
I stared at her in surprise. Mother never traveled alone. In my entire life I’d never seen her go anywhere without Gregor or my uncles or even me escorting her.
“You’re not going alone.” Gregor’s words were firm. “This is nonnegotiable, Portia.”
“Yes, Gregor. I’ll ask Jefferson if he’d like to go with me. You know how he’ll travel at the drop of a hat. And if he’s busy, perhaps Ludovic wouldn’t mind flying across the Pond. While I see Jack, he could visit with his family.”
They talked the logistics of the flight, and I idly ran a finger around the rim of my coffee cup.
“Mother, may I ask how long you and Gregor have been together?”
“Since Boxing Day, sweetheart.”
“The day after Christmas?” Of course I was away with Mark at the time, but we’d seen her and Gregor on New Year’s Eve. Abruptly I remembered the way Gregor had kissed her hand and smiled after the ball dropped. It hadn’t occurred to me that what I was seeing was more than two old friends simply welcoming the New Year. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”
“My idea,” Gregor said gruffly. “I knew your uncles would object, and I wanted to hold on to her for as long as I could.”
“Why would they object?”
“I’m just a Czech peasant, from a long line of Czech peasants, and your mother is a Sebring who can trace her ancestors back to before Richard III.”
“Dear one.” Mother gestured for him to lean close to her. When he did, she lightly smacked his head. “Quinton is right. You are an idiot.”
“Sorry, Portia.” But in spite of her action and her words, or perhaps because of them, he was obviously very pleased.
Mother turned to me. “I wanted to have Gregor to myself, sweetheart. Can you understand that?”
“Yes, I can.” I probably would have kept my relationship with Mark to myself for longer than I had, almost as much because I was uncertain how my family would react to the fact I was seeing a WBIS agent as because he was a man.
Had she expected her brothers to object? She was the youngest of the siblings and the first girl in generations, and they’d always been very protective of her. I remembered overhearing conversations between my younger uncles, when they hadn’t realized I was nearby, discussing how both Grandfather and Uncle Tony had been less than pleased when Mother set her heart on Father.
“May I tell Mark?”
“Certainly.”
Gregor groaned. “He’s going to make some snide comments about it. After all, I’m twelve years younger than your mother.”
Was my comment about our waiter’s age what had disturbed him earlier? “I’ll see he doesn’t. May I inform DB also?”
“Yes. He’s a good man, and I like him. How long is it that you’ve known him?”
“We went through training together, and as a matter of fact, I coached him in firearms.” He hadn’t been the best shot, and had been in danger of being dismissed.
“I’m glad he’s your friend, Quinn,” Gregor said. And then he muttered, under his breath but still loud enough for me to hear, “Why couldn’t you have gotten involved with him?”
“For one thing, he’s straight.”
“Is there more than one thing?”
“Of course.” But I wasn’t going to tell him that was the heart choosing where it would. He’d probably have a coronary, as Mark was so fond of saying, and I liked him too much to be the cause of that happening to him.
“Is everything okay here?” Chris set down a stand and placed a tray loaded with plates on it.
Conversation had become desultory as we began enjoying the excellent brunch Charmaine offered.
Mother took a sip of her coffee, set the cup down on its saucer, and gazed at me. “Have you spoken to Mark about joining us for Mother’s Day?”
“Yes, I did, and I’m glad you reminded me about it. He’ll be delighted to be there.”
Gregor growled under his breath. “Just what we need.”
“It’s what Mark needs, Gregor,” Mother said. “From what I was able to learn, his mother left a good deal to be desired. Were you aware she’d put him in the hospital on more than one occasion before he was ten?”
I’d discovered that, and it had broken my heart, but, “How did you obtain that knowledge, Mother?”
She gave me a cool Sebring smile. “I have my ways, sweetheart.”
“Y’know, if she wasn’t dead, I’d swear Folana Fournaise was your source,” Gregor groused.
I exchanged glances with Mother. Her smile was gone, and she gave a slight shake of her head. So she hadn’t told Gregor that Folana was still alive.
Years ago Folana Fournaise, an exceptionally clever and deadly woman who had first run a crime syndicate and then an intelligence-gathering agency, had staged her own death. Even Mark had thought she was dead, although he claimed that if he’d had any reason to research the incident, he’d have discovered otherwise—of which I had no doubt.
Folana would have remained dead to all intents and purposes except for Mother’s “accident.” She and Mother had met as young women and had become staunch friends. I had no idea how she’d learned of that disaster, but she’d returned to deal with it.
Senator Wexler intended to get me out of the picture by having his aide send my car fishtailing across the Beltway median and into oncoming traffic, hopefully resulting in serious injury for me, although my death would have been preferred.
Mrs. Wexler, humiliated by the attention her husband was paying to Mother and resentful that Mother had no appreciation of that attention, had the tires of Mother’s Town Car slashed. The outcome of that action saw Gregor driving Mother home in my car, while Mark drove me home in his.
Peter Lapin, Wexler’s rabbity aide—I couldn’t help grinning at the way Mark was rubbing off on me—was unaware of the change in plans and rear-ended my car. Mother and Gregor were both injured, Mother more so than Gregor, and wound up in the hospital.
Wexler, Mrs. Wexler, Peter Lapin—they’d all been very busy that night, and they’d all paid for it, in one way or another.
I sat back in my chair and observed my mother. She was a slight woman, perhaps five foot four, and anyone looking at her would be unlikely to see the steel that formed her character. She’d deciphered codes toward the end of the Venona Project, and to this day she carried a Smith & Wesson. If Senator Wexler had succeeded in his plans regarding me, it wouldn’t have taken Mother long to discover he was behind it. And once she had that intelligence, it wouldn’t have been long before Wexler realized the extent of his error.
Mother reached over and squeezed my hand. “It’s over and done with, sweetheart. There’s no sense in dwelling on it,” she said softly.
“No, you’re right.” I was just sorry it had happened to begin with.
“Damn.” Gregor, oblivious to the byplay between us, sliced into his quiche as if it were his worst enemy. “Now I’ll have to be nice to Vincent.”
Swallowing a smile, I picked up my coffee cup and breathed in the heady aroma before I took another sip. “Do you think that would be a good idea? Mark might get the impression that you’d been taken over by pod people.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen.” Cheered that he didn’t have to go out of his way to be polite to my lover, Gregor bit into a forkful of his quiche, and the conversation turned to other topics.
Chapter 5
“Here comes sunshine,” Gregor murmured, and I turned my head to see Chris approaching the table. In one hand he had the leather folder that held the check, and in the other was a white bag with the Charmaine logo across the front.
“Some yummy sticky buns for you to take home.” He fluttered his lashes and then placed the bag in front of me. “I wish it was me!” he said, so softly I was sure he didn’t realize I could hear him.
“Thank you, Chris. That’s very kind of you. I’ll get this, Mother.” I took the folder from him.
“Darn,” he muttered. “I knew I should have put my phone number on the back of the check.”
“I appreciate the thought, Chris, but I’m involved with someone.”
“Darn,” he said again. “I’ll just leave this with you.” He went off to see to another table.
“Quinn, this was our call,” Gregor said, half rising and reaching for his wallet.
“Please, consider it my gift to you both.” It wasn’t much… I’d have to think about getting something to indicate my pleasure at this turn of events. I ran my gaze over the charges, then took out my own wallet and removed the platinum credit card I’d carried since I’d graduated from Harvard.
“Well, at least let me get the tip.”
I smiled at him. “Gregor, it’s not necessary.” I looked around for Chris and waved him over when I caught his eye.
“Yes?”
I handed him the folder, and he hurried off.
“What plans do you have for your afternoon, sweetheart?”
“I thought I’d stop by the gym for an hour or so, and afterward visit the Music Shop to look through their sheet music. How will you and Gregor be spending it?”
“The Sharon Crowne is sponsoring a fundraising seminar on horticulture.” The shelter was for abused women and their children, one of Mother’s many charities. “I’d bought the tickets last September, and Gregor has graciously agreed to accompany me.”
“As if I’d turn down any opportunity to spend an afternoon with you.” Gregor reached across the table and rested his fingers on the back of Mother’s hand.
“Your card, Mr. Mann, and if you’ll just sign our copy?”
I put the card away, signed the slip, and gave it to Chris, along with his tip in cash. “Thanks for your attentiveness. As I said, I do have a significant other—”
“Otherwise you’d ask me out? Thanks!” That wasn’t what I’d been about to say, but it would have been cruel to tell him that. He glanced at the bills I’d handed him, and his eyes widened. “Oh, wow! Thank you!”
“You’re welcome, Chris. Have a good afternoon.” I rose and would have helped Mother up, but Gregor was there before me. I took my jacket from the back of my chair and slid my arms into the sleeves.
Mother linked her arm through Gregor’s, and we made our way through the restaurant to the coat check. I stood aside and let him help Mother with a chinchilla coat that was new. It was beautiful, in shades of black and gray and cream. It was also faux fur.
Mother saw my interest. She smiled and stroked her palm over a sleeve. “A gift from Gregor.”
“A very nice gift.” And thoughtful of Mother. Gregor would never give her a genuine chinchilla fur, not only because it was out of his pay grade, but because it wasn’t ecologically correct. While the lynx coat Father had given Mother when they’d honeymooned in Paris meant a great deal to her, and while the Russian sable Grandmother had left her hung in her closet, I knew she’d never buy another genuine fur coat.
We exited Charmaine. “Let me know how the visit goes with Alyona.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
I kissed Mother’s cheek, shook Gregor’s hand, and we went our separate ways.
It was still early afternoon when I’d finished a six mile jog on the treadmill, and I showered, changed, and drove to the Music Shop. I spent some time gazing through the stacks of sheet music, pleased when I found the piano music for “Such a Night,” which I used as Mark’s ringtone, and Etta James’s “At Last.”
I had no desire to return home to my empt
y town house just yet, so I decided to go to the country club to pay Testament, my gray gelding, a visit.
There was a small, family-run grocery a few doors down from the Music Shop, and I stopped by and bought a bunch of carrots. I wanted to have enough for Testament, Pyrrhic Victory—Mother’s horse—and Kathy Thorn. Mark had no idea, but I’d bought the mare for him. And in spite of his grousing, he liked her. I’d caught him slipping her sugar cubes from time to time.
The parking lot that served the stable was empty, no doubt due to the inclement weather. I steered the Jaguar into a spot close to the path that led to the stable, switched off the ignition and grabbed the carrots, and got out of the car. A chill breeze whipped a scattering of raindrops into my face, and I raised my collar, tucked my chin into it, and hurried up the path.
Other than random snorts, snuffles, and hoofs pawing the straw-covered floor, it was quiet in the stable, and warm. As I approached Testament’s stall, his head appeared over the half door.
“Hello, boy.” I broke a carrot in two and offered half to him on the flat of my palm, then caught his halter and tugged him close. “Did you miss your ride this morning?” I rubbed his forehead and laughed when he thrust his head against my chest, demanding the rest of the carrot. “You’ll have to share with Victory and Kathy Thorn.”
I patted his neck and left to pay the other two horses a quick visit. After giving them their carrots, I removed my jacket, hung it from the hook outside Testament’s stall, and went to the tack room.
“Mr. Mann! I thought I heard something. I wasn’t expecting to see you here today.” Ian Stewart appeared in the doorway. He took care of the horses and saw to the stable’s books for the country club.
“Hello, Ian. I thought I’d come visit Testament.”
“Did you plan on taking him out?” He seemed dubious about that.
“No. The weather isn’t suitable. And as you can see, I’m not dressed for it. I’ll just spend some time with him.” I gathered up his currycomb, brush, and hoof pick.
