5. Margo #2
“Therese was ill.” She folds her hands. “Genuinely frightened alone and she asked for the one person she’s trusted since childhood.
Sebastian did the decent thing as an Austen.
” Her head tilts. “That is who Therese is to this family, Margo. She belongs to this world. She understands what a night like that costs, what the name requires, what it means to put the legacy first even when it’s inconvenient.
She has never once made Sebastian choose between her and his obligations. ”
The words settle for a beat and I can hear the mocking in her tone.
“Can you say the same?”
There it is. The knife she’s been polishing this whole time.
“You want him to prioritize her,” I say.
“I want him to prioritize everything he is.” She says it as if it’s obvious, as if I’m slow for not seeing it.
“The company. The launch. His father’s memory.
His responsibilities. And yes, dear, a woman who shares that weight rather than resenting it.
Therese isn’t a distraction from his life.
She is the one he was always meant to have, and every hour he spends untangling himself from this marriage is an hour he isn’t giving to the things that actually matter. ”
“So his wife and his daughter don’t matter?”
“I didn’t say that.” She smiles, and it’s the cruelest thing on this deck. “I said he can’t afford you right now. There’s a difference, and I think, underneath all that pride, you already know it.”
My jaw aches. I make myself breathe but before I can get a word out, she speaks again.
“I’ve arranged a helicopter.”
Dorothy reaches into her bag and produces a folded slip of cream cardstock, setting it on the arm of my chair with one manicured finger.
“It can lift within the hour. You and Cassandra, back on the mainland by evening. A quiet resort while this settles. We tell the press a family matter called you home. No cameras, no columns, no dignity lost.” She stands, brushing an invisible thing from her skirt.
“And enough put aside to keep you and the child comfortable while things quiet down. I’ve already made a few calls to smooth the way. ”
My hands find the arms of the chair and I’m on my feet before I decide to be.
“You don’t get to make arrangements about my life. Or my daughter’s.” I refuse to have this said down at me from above. “She is not a problem you get to solve.”
“She is an Austen.” Dorothy’s voice doesn’t rise, it hardens. “Which is precisely why she shouldn’t be dragged through gutter press because her mother couldn’t keep her marriage quiet.”
“As you’ve said, this is my marriage and not yours.”
“Everything with that name on it is mine to protect.” She steps in close, close enough that Sandy can’t catch it, and drops her voice meant only for me.
“Let me be very clear, dear, since kindness isn’t working.
You were a diversion. A pretty one, I’ll grant you, but the diversion is over.
Do not mistake my patience for a third option. ”
My pulse is slamming. I open my mouth, every so-called fishing-village instinct in me rising up to meet her…
“Mother.”
Sebastian rounds the corner, roses in one hand, and I watch him take in the scene in a single sweep, his mother standing too close to me.
“What are you doing here?”
Dorothy’s chin lifts a fraction, unbothered.
“I’m just talking to Margo.” Her eyes flick to him calmly. “Nothing that concerns you.”
“It concerns me when it’s my wife.” He crosses the space and puts himself between us, a wall of charcoal suit, angling his shoulder so he’s half in front of me without seeming to think about it. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Mother?”
“Right.” Her gaze drops to the roses in his hand, and her mouth curves into the shape of a smile that isn’t one. “Though I’d have thought you had better uses for your afternoon than the gift shop. You have a launch to save, Sebastian. Don’t let yourself get distracted.”
“I don’t need the lecture.” His voice stays level with emphasis. “I’m not fifteen. You don’t have to manage my marriage, my launch, or my afternoon. I’ve got all three.”
For a moment they just look at each other, mother and son, and I watch an old, silent argument pass between them that I’ve never been allowed to read.
“As you like.” Dorothy gathers herself, smooth as ever, not a hair out of place. She turns to leave, and pauses just long enough to sweep her eyes over me one last time. “Margo.”
Then she’s gone, heels clicking against the deck in that same old unhurried rhythm.
Sebastian turns to me, the concern real on his face for once. “Margo, what did she…”
“Daddy!”
Sandy abandons the railing and barrels into his legs before he can get the words out, wrapping herself around one of them. She peers up at him, then back over her shoulder in the direction Dorothy went, and lowers her voice to a stage whisper the whole deck could hear.
“Grandma looked really scary. Her face was doing the thing.”
“What thing, princess?” Sebastian crouches, freeing his leg, roses shifting to one hand.
“The smiley but meanie smile! Like when she talks about Sandy’s dress…” She scrunches her nose. “Don’t like that!”
“No.” His face softens and cracks at once. “Neither do I.”