Peter usually limpeted himself to Emelia’s side whenever Victor was around, even though she was a lot tougher than her slight build and nondescript appearance would have anyone suspect at first glance.
Victor shoved the biscuit in his mouth for lack of anything better to do and waited for Emelia to leave him to his solitude. He couldn’t blame her for the reticence. They both reminded each other of pasts they would rather forget.
Once his parents died, they would probably become the type of family whose only contact was cursory annual Christmas updates.
There was a scrape of wood against tile as Emelia pulled out a chair and sat down at the table with a glass of water and the rest of her snack. Victor looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Peter coming through the doorway. Nothing. Weird.
“So what are you going to do about him when you get married?” He nodded toward Reepicheep, whose hair now stood on end as he bristled at both of them.
Emelia rolled her eyes. “I keep hoping he’ll find a magical doorway to cat heaven, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to live to a hundred just to spite me.”
“Probably.”
She glanced sideways at him. “You don’t want him, do you? He’d make an excellent guard cat.”
Victor burst out laughing. There weren’t many things he wanted less in life than his brother’s antisocial some-might-say-possessed pet. “Not on your nelly.”
Emelia bit her remaining ginger snap in half and stared at the cat glumly. “Then hopefully, your parents will agree to keep him. They’ve been asking what we want as a wedding present. Maybe it will work if I tell them their chances of grandchildren will be greatly enhanced without a scary spawn feline in residence.”
“How are the wedding plans going?” Victor clung to the most neutral thing he could find in her sentence. The wedding was just over a month away, but he knew nothing about it beyond what was on his invitation.
Emelia threw the last of her biscuit in her mouth. “I’m still working the elopement angle. Turns out getting married to even minor nobility is a massive pain in the behind.” Her glance darted his way. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“I even tried to lose Harry and Meghan’s invitation, but the wedding planner noticed it was missing.”
“Why?” He had to admit, her admission made him like her even more. Most American women would be falling over themselves at the possibility of coming within a mile of the Duke and Duchess.
Emelia groaned. “Because my stepmother is a royal-obsessed social-climbing harridan who wouldn’t know British etiquette if it bit her on her surgically-enhanced bust.”
“I’m sure she’s not that bad.”
Emelia pitched an eyebrow. “She named my half-siblings Charles, George, Katherine-Elizabeth, William, and Charlotte.”
Note to self. Avoid Emelia’s stepmother at said wedding. “Don’t worry. Sadly for your stepmother, the best she might be able to hope for is a random earl or an accidental viscount.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” Emelia reached for another biscuit.
“There’s probably not much that makes that journey.” Peter. Finally. He stomped into the room, pulled out a chair, and slumped into it.
“I was wondering where you were. Emelia and I have been unchaperoned for a whole four minutes.” Victor grimaced as the sarcastic quip leapt straight out of his mouth.
Peter opened his mouth, then slapped it shut again as Emelia gave him a look that could ice over the Thames.
Victor’s respect for her ratcheted up another notch. She was probably the last woman in the world he would have chosen for his brother, but he could admit that she was more than his match. She also wasn’t a rowing groupie, which was good for Peter’s ego.
Victor had given up on ever meeting someone. He’d played the field too widely, hurt too many women, for that. He still occasionally woke up in a cold sweat at the possibility he might one day check his phone and find himself plastered over social media tagged to an accusation about a night that he probably didn’t remember.
Emelia got up and closed the door. “You two can save your squabbling for later. We have some things we need to talk about first.”
“I didn’t realize I’d been summoned to a next generation family meeting.” At least Emelia was here to mediate. Except the last time she’d tried to mediate between them had resulted in a brawl that ended up with him in rehab and Peter not speaking to him for a year. The memory hung in the air like an unwelcome ghost.