Page 40 of Red Masquerade

“Same time as always.” I tried a smile.

She went to turn the knob.

“And don’t bring it up with Dixon. Please. Not—not what happened.” My past, Adam’s past.

Flora glanced over her shoulder, raising a brow. “I can’t make any promises.”

And then she was gone.

Thirteen

Lucas Quintrell arrived just before Mother and I were to leave for our luncheon just two days later. Mother insisted on getting out of the house, takingmeout of the house—though she never cared to ask why I was uncharacteristically quiet—and had the driver waiting for us outside to take us to a hotel a few blocks away for a luxurious lunch. One of her ladies had recommended the spot for its roast.

She was ushering me down the stairs of our townhome, after fussing at my hair for an hour, when our front door suddenly opened, and Lucas stepped in, a single suitcase in hand.

“Lucas!”

She gasped as though the air was stolen from her and rushed toward him, gathering him in her arms, like he was a child all over again. I froze halfway down the steps, my shoes suddenly glued to the velvet runner.

Lucas was all smiles, his golden hair perfectly coiffed, his cheeks clean-shaven, grinning at her and her alone. Surveying the room, taking in all the paneled wood, the portraits of family members, racing across the electric wires connected to the small light fixture in the foyer. Breathing in the scent of the house, that smell you can never find anywhere else. But those brown eyes darkened in indifference as soon as they landed on me.

“Oh, we’re so happy you’re home,” my mother exclaimed, holding him tight to her.

He shrugged out of her grasp and set his suitcase down on the ground with athunk. “Happy to make the trip,” he said, pulling his lips back in a forced smile. “And to see my dear mother again.”

She nearly wept and wrapped her arms around him once more.

Forever her boy, even if he was the head of the family now.

Chills ran down my spine, my fingers digging into the wooden railing. I knew he was coming; Mother had warned me. But I thought we had another day or so—

All my wasting away in bed had made the days pass like a blur, time molten and rushing toward me all at once. I cursed inwardly that I spent the whole week wasting away, forgetting about his arrival. Not preparing myself and instead wallowing.

Mother sniffled. “Where is Lucy?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, a tick in his jaw the only sign he was surprised at the question. “At home. Doctor’s orders—She can’t travel after until she delivers.”

I was surprised he even knew that much about her current condition.

If anyone could make his visit any more bearable, it would have been his wife. But, seven months pregnant, she was constantlyuncomfortable, as her sparse letters to me indicated, and was unable to even get out of bed some days.

I did not envy her. I did not envy that she was tied so permanently to my brother. I was sure, with Lucas as her husband, she was driven to madness.

“Well, we will miss her.” Mother patted Lucas’ arm. She remembered that I was still upon the stairs, and turned to me with a scowl. “Helena, come greet your brother.”

I nearly shook my head like a petulant child.

Lucas was here.

Adam was back.

It all swirled within me, a dark cloud gathering in my chest, in my lungs, threatening to drown me from the inside.

The stubborn ache in my throat, my chest, tightened. I had half a mind to turn around and retreat to my room. Let them have lunch, just the two of them. They wouldn’t miss me. But she would drag me down by my ear if I did not comply.

Meeting them on the ground floor, I gave my dearest brother a clipped smile, if only to make my mother happy. “Lucas,” I said, by way of greeting. My hands shook behind my back, clasped tight to dampen their movement.

Those dark eyes, so similar to mine, looked down his nose at me. But he had no words for me, nothing to say. I could have sworn his lip almost curled, disgust flashing in his irises.