Page 47 of The Vanished

“Please, call me Jesse. I’ve always hated the name Jesseph. Makes me sound like some biblical prophet.”

Douglas nodded, and a tiny smile appeared on his face. “It does.”

“Father, you shouldn’t be drinking,” Geneva said under her breath as soon as Jesse went to the drinks cabinet. It was dangerous to mix morphine with alcohol. Even she knew that.

“Or what? I will die?” Douglas joked. “Scotch. Neat,” he called out to Jesse.

“Yes, sir.”

Jesse handed Douglas his drink and was about to sit on the sofa when Geneva got up and offered him her seat.

“You two have much to discuss, and I’d like a few minutes to freshen up.”

Douglas peered at her, as if trying to pinpoint what was different. “You cut your hair,” he said at last.

“Yes. Do you like it?” Geneva patted her hair self-consciously.

Douglas looked momentarily dismayed, then nodded. “In my day, hair was considered a woman’s crowning glory, but my day is nearly done. It suits you, my dear. You look very modern.”

“Thank you, Father,” Geneva said quietly.

It seemed they couldn’t discuss anything without constant reminders of her father’s fast-approaching demise. She needed no reminders. One look at him, and her heart broke all over again. But she had to remain strong, especially now that Jesse had arrived and would be looking for chinks in the armor.

Geneva was just about to walk through the door when Douglas called out to her. “Genny, wait.”

She turned. “Yes?”

“I was thinking. I’d like to properly celebrate Jesse’s arrival. Introduce him to our neighbors and friends. How long do you think it will take to pull together a party?”

“A party?” Geneva gaped at her father. Was he serious? It was nearly Christmas. People had plans and would be spending the holiday with their families.

“What about a New Year’s Eve bash?” Douglas suggested. “We’ll have a quiet family Christmas, then ring in the new year in style.”

“I suppose it can be done,” Geneva replied.

“I can help,” Jesse offered.

“Excellent, then you two are in charge.”

“Honor will want to be involved,” Geneva said. If they left Honor out, she’d never forgive either of them.

“Of course she will. She’s feeling rather low, I’m afraid,” Douglas said. “It’s never easy for a child to accept change.”

It’s no picnic for me either, Geneva wanted to rage, but she had to remain strong. Honor would have no one else to look to in the coming days.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” she said and walked out into the corridor.

She needed a few minutes to herself, to process the events of the afternoon, and to try to tamp down her anger at her father’s unquestioning acceptance of Jesse. He’d never thrown a party in her honor, not even when she’d turned twenty-one. But they had to honor Jesse. Perhaps they should send for the trumpeters and shout about his inheritance from the castle walls.

The king is dead. Long live the king, she thought bitterly and instantly felt ashamed of herself.

THIRTY

“So, what’s he like, the American?” Rory asked when Geneva met him the following day.

His gaze was anxious and searching, and she knew he was desperate to ask her other, more personal questions, but now wasn’t the time. And as before, she had no answers to give him, at least not ones he’d like.

“Not as awful as I thought he would be,” Geneva confessed.