Pride and Papercuts (The Austens #5) - Staci Hart Page 0,76

“No, not Evelyn. Catherine de Bourgh.”

Marcus’s face pinched. “Do you think she wants to reacquire us for Evelyn?”

“No,” I said. “She wants to punish us for what happened with Evelyn. Evelyn lost everything, including her family and her freedom, and just yesterday, Catherine made sure I knew she believed it was our fault. Not just me or you or Mom—all of us. Catherine is just as bitter and petty as Evelyn, and if I had to peg this on one person in the world, it would be her.”

Now it was Maisie’s turn to sit. She sank into a chair, hand still on her belly. “What are we going to do?” she breathed.

“What we’re not going to do is give up,” I said. “We just have to work harder. Let’s make sure all the new hires know that if they’re approached with a better offer to tell us so we can outbid them. Send Luke up to the farm in Long Island and talk to the manager.”

“He called, but Leo wouldn’t give,” Marcus said.

“Which is why Luke needs to go up there. No one can refuse Luke, and Leo has done business with us since Grandma was still running the shop. There’s a reason, and I don’t think Leo will lie to Luke’s face. Have him take Mom, if he really needs backup. Between the two of them, Leo doesn’t stand a chance.”

Marcus nodded, already on his phone.

“What did Lila say about the events?” I asked, seeing as how Kash’s wife, an event planner, was our biggest account.

Maisie tucked her chin-length blonde hair behind her ear. “Only that a few of her bigger clients broke their contracts and ended up with her old firm.”

“Think we can connect them with Catherine?” I paced.

“We can ask. If anyone can sniff it out, it’s Lila. But then what?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet.” Darcy’s face flashed in my mind, but I pushed it away. I couldn’t ask him for help, not even for this. “Family meeting tonight? In the greenhouse. I’ll text the chat.”

I stopped walking long enough to find my phone and fire off a message to our group sibling chat. A flash of sadness streaked through my chest at the realization that they’d probably started a chat without Jett and me. That they’d been keeping this from us for what, weeks? Months?

The thought soured my stomach. But there would be time to deal with that later.

As my phone buzzed with my brothers’ affirmatives, I turned my attention back to Marcus and Maisie. “All hands on deck. Jett and I will talk to Wasted Words and the firm to see when and how they can spare us.”

Maisie still looked so worried, I knelt at her side and took her hand, smiling with genuine mischief.

“You’ve never really seen the Bennets in action. But you’re about to. We won’t let Longbourne fail. Instead, we’re going to find out if I’m right and how we’re going to turn it around.”

“Maybe … maybe I could talk to my mom,” she said uncertainly. “I don’t know if she’d listen to me after everything, but it’s worth a chance, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Marcus answered without hesitation. “It won’t do any good. If Catherine is anything like Evelyn, she won’t stop until she gets arrested. The only thing that will happen is that Evelyn will hurt Maisie, and I think we can agree she’s hurt Maisie enough for one lifetime.”

He wasn’t wrong. Evelyn Bower was even more of a monster than Catherine, and Maisie had taken the brunt of that since she exited the womb.

“What about the Darcys?” Marcus asked. “Could one of them help?”

With a long sigh, I shook my head. “I can’t ask Liam for help. Who knows whose side he’s on? We’d rather willingly put our hands into a wood chipper than help each other with anything. And Georgie … I think she’d help, but I don’t think she’s any better off than Jett is. I can’t ask her to put herself in the middle of this too.”

Marcus nodded, but he didn’t look pleased.

“We’re on our own,” I said, pulling my laptop out of my bag. “So let’s get started. Where can I set up?”

“Let me see if I can find you a desk.” Marcus gestured to the empty galley.

“I’m going to gather everyone up and see what’s what. And then we’re going to get this place back on its feet, whether Catherine de Bourgh likes it or not,” I promised.

And it was a promise I’d sacrifice everything

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