He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. As if I should go out into the rain and collect him and Odette like some obedient wife already trained not to ask questions. As if what he had done the night before had never happened. As if I were part of the household staff, waiting to be summoned.
I almost laughed.
“There’s a dinner here tonight for the department heads,” I said evenly. “I don’t know when it will end.”
There was a short pause, like refusal had not crossed his mind.
“Come get us first,” he said. “Then go back.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“You can call one of the drivers.”
Then I hung up.
I did not care whether he was angry.
That evening, I stayed.
The dinner was simple, held in one of the smaller reception rooms above the main offices, but it was warm in a way the Ashbourne house had not felt in a long time. The table was crowded with half-finished glasses, plates of roasted meat, bread, and bowls of hot stew. Someone told a story about one of the security captains slipping off the dock during a weapons shipment inspection, and laughter moved easily around the room.
For the first time in days, I smiled without forcing it.