need to feed Livy,” she said as she stood up. “Marguerite made more than enough if you would like to join us.”
But Celeste’s voice stopped her before she could make her exit.
“Nina.”
How could a single word carry so much force? And yet, Nina couldn’t ignore its pull. Not from the one person whose opinion she had ever cared for. She never understood how she could be so terrified by Celeste and yet desperately admire her at the same time.
“Cook, for God’s sake, get the nurse,” Calvin snapped just as Marguerite reentered the room with the wine.
Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the other visitors, and wordlessly, she bobbed and dashed off in the direction of the nursery.
Nina frowned. “Calvin, was that really necessary?”
Her husband’s pale, shiny face gleamed with resentment. “I think it was. Otherwise what am I paying her for?”
“What are you paying her for?” Nina echoed softly.
Despite the fact that Calvin’s face turned roughly the color of an eggplant, she couldn’t help herself. It was the little things like that which had, frankly, come to drive her crazy over the last year. Calvin seemed to have forgotten the terms of this arrangement. He had forgotten whose fortune really paid for this lifestyle.
Or maybe, Nina thought as she tried not to shy from his insipid glare, he hadn’t forgotten at all. Perhaps he had just begun to hate her for it instead.
Denial was a powerful, powerful thing.
Nina swallowed and turned to her grandmother. “I’ll only be a moment,” she said as Olivia continued to squall, tiny arms flailing.
“That won’t be necessary.” Celeste beckoned to the nurse, who had just appeared in the room behind Marguerite. “You there.”
“Her name is Greta,” Nina put in, only to receive sharp glances from both Celeste and Calvin.
“Take the child,” Celeste spoke louder, her voice dripping with disdain, as though Olivia’s cries were personal insults toward her. “I assume you have formula and anything else you might require in the nursery. Please feed the child and bring her back when she is less…obtrusive.”
Nina’s mouth dropped. “Grandmother, perhaps you misunderstand. I’m still nursing. She won’t take a bottle, so I need to breastfeed her—”
“Nina.”
Celeste’s voice was a gavel on the heavy wood dining table, the judgement clear. The de Vrieses were masters of propriety on the outside, scheming and vengeful underneath. Denoted under Nina’s name was a clear message: we do not talk about such things in polite company.
Violet chuckled, her rings clinking lightly on the wineglass she had already helped herself to from the table.
“She did the same to me,” she whispered conspiratorially as she came to look at her granddaughter. Almost happily, as if finally she could pass on the misery of being Celeste de Vries’s daughter to someone else. Her wine sloshed over the rim of her glass, narrowly missing the baby’s head.
Nina clutched Olivia closer, and the baby whimpered and burrowed into the silk, looking for a breast.
“Good God, Nina,” hissed Calvin from the other side of the table, where he had taken Nina’s seat and was already serving himself a full plate. “Don’t embarrass us.”
Next to him, Caitlyn’s eyes glimmered with sympathy. Or maybe it was pity.
Nina opened her mouth to argue. To put her foot down. But before she could, the child was lifted from her arms, the Celine bag picked up from the floor. Olivia immediately started screaming.
“Please remove her before I grow deaf,” Celeste snapped at Greta, who left the room with a very unhappy baby.
Everyone sat silently while Marguerite scurried around setting three extra plates. Once Olivia’s cries were no longer audible, the rest of the party relaxed, though Nina could only stare at her plate, biting back tears and the instinct to sprint after her child.
“Thank you, no,” Celeste said when Marguerite tried to pour her a bit of wine. “But perhaps a glass of Perrier…”
“I’ll get it.” Calvin sprang up from the table, faster than the lap dog Nina thought he was imitating admirably. “Give you, er, a moment to talk.”
He and Marguerite both left the room in a hurry.
Caitlyn put her napkin on the table as if to leave as well. “Should I…”
“No, no, don’t be silly,” Violet chided her. “You’re practically one of the family. Mother, look at all this new blonde in her hair. Caitlyn and Nina could be twins!”
Caitlyn preened, as though the thought made her shine a bit brighter, though Celeste remained as steely as ever.
Still irritated by what had happened with Olivia, Nina was too busy