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“Of course,” I reply.

Blaire gives her a polite smile.

“Go ahead.”

Margaret steps away.

The moment she is out of earshot, Blaire’s expression changes.

She looks at me with open fury.

“What the hell are you doing here, Ross?” she asks.

Her voice is low, but the anger in it is unmistakable.

“I came to see you,” I reply.

Blaire stares at me as if the answer confirms exactly what she feared.

“How did you even know I was here?” she asks.

“I learned Mercer & Vale was attending the Pembroke gathering,” I say. “I confirmed you were on the list.”

Her eyes narrow.

“And the donation?” she asks.

“That got me through the door,” I reply.

Blaire glances over her shoulder again. The movement is quick, but this time I catch it.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says.

“That’s twice you’ve looked behind you since I walked over.”

“I’m at an event, Ross. There are people everywhere.”

Her explanation is too sharp, and something about her reaction still doesn’t fit. She isn’t merely irritated that I followed her to Nantucket. She looks unsettled in a way I haven’t seen before.

I lower my voice.

“I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m not leaving until I tell you what I came to say.”

Blaire closes her eyes briefly.

“Ross, we already had this conversation.”

“No, we didn’t.”

Her gaze returns to mine.

“You told me what you wanted in London.”