Chapter 14 #2
“Uncle Seb’s our favorite uncle,” Hadley informs me seriously. “Uncle James is fun, but he’s always out on dates. Uncle Seb brings us presents from California all the time and lets us climb on him and doesn’t get mad when we mess up his hair.”
I try to picture the Sebastian I know being Uncle Seb to these two, who lets two little girls climb on him and mess up his hair. The image doesn’t quite compute with the monster I know.
But then I remember the way he kissed me this morning. Gentle. Exploratory. Maybe there were more versions of Sebastian Drake than I thought.
The twins grab my hands, one on each side, and start pulling me down the hallway before I can protest.
“Our room is the best,” Hadley says as Harper nods. “Daddy let us paint it ourselves.”
“It’s purple,” Hadley adds. “Really, really purple.”
They aren’t kidding. The room they drag me into is aggressively purple, from the walls to the curtains, even the bedspreads on the twin beds.
But it’s also clearly lived in, unlike the pristine showpiece rooms of the other wings.
Toys are littering the floor, drawings taped to the walls, books piled on nightstands.
A real kid’s room. Messy, colorful and full of life.
“This is great,” I say, meaning it.
“You really think so?” Harper looks pleased. “Grandma says it’s too much, but Daddy says if we have to live here, we get to make our room however we want.” She lets her eyes fall and I hold her hand tighter.
“Have to live here?” I ask carefully.
The twins exchange a look, some silent communication passing between them.
“Since Mommy died,” Hadley says quietly. “We were going to move into a new house, but then Mommy died, and Daddy said we needed to stay at this house so we could be with family.”
My chest tightens. “I’m sorry about your mom.” Both girls blink up at me, and I just want to wrap them in a hug and take away all their hurt.
The door opens, and Eleanor reappears. “Girls, why don’t you go find your father? He wanted to see you before he headed out to check the south pastures.”
“Okay.” They scramble off the bed, but Harper pauses to hug my legs. “I like you, Aunt Lennox,” she whispers, and my heart breaks into a million pieces.
Then they’re gone, thundering down the hallway, and I’m left standing in the room with Eleanor watching me.
“They’ve taken to you,” she observes.
“They’re wonderful,” I say honestly. “Full of energy and questions and life.”
“They are.” Eleanor’s expression softens slightly. “They’ve been through a lot for such young girls. Losing their mother, watching their father struggle with grief. But they’re resilient. Drake women always are.
“Come. There’s one more thing I want to show you before we finish the tour.”
We walk back downstairs, through hallways I’m already losing track of, and into a room. No, not a room, a conservatory, all glass walls and lush plants, overlooking formal gardens that probably require a full-time staff to maintain.
“This is my space,” Eleanor says, and her tone has shifted. Less formal tour guide, more… honest. “When my obligations become too much, when the expectations and the scrutiny and the endless performance of being Eleanor Drake feels suffocating, I come here.”
I look at her, surprised by the admission.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she continues, not meeting my eyes.
“That I chose this life. This is a full-time job, Lennox. One you didn’t exactly apply for, from what I can gather.
Don’t worry, dear, I know everything that happens with the auctions.
I went through it, and I made sure that the experience is better than what I had. ”
I should have been more surprised by Eleanor’s revelation, but of course she was an auction bride. It’s what this family did. But knowing what I went through is better than what happened to her? That thought alone is terrifying.
“You didn’t have to be naked, did you? I did,” Eleanor says as she glances at me, lifting her brow slightly. She sits on a bench, grabs a watering can, and feels the dirt beside her before letting some of the water soak in.
“How did you handle it? The auction, after, now all this.” I gesture with my hands, meaning the weight of the name.
“Badly, some days. Better on others.” She moves to water an orchid.
“I found things that are mine. This conservatory. My charity work. The parts of myself that exist outside of being Walker Drake’s wife or a mother or the Drake matriarch.
You’ll have to find those things too, Lennox.
The parts of you that Sebastian doesn’t own. ”
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For telling me that.”
“You’re welcome.” Eleanor sets down her watering can and faces me fully.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’ll do well here.
You’re strong, I saw that last night with Caroline.
You understand ranching, which will help you connect with Walker and Nathaniel.
And the girls adore you, which is no small thing. ”
“But?”
“But I’m watching. Making sure Sebastian doesn’t destroy you the way Drake men have a tendency to destroy the women who love them.” Her smile is sad. “We’ll see if you survive us, Lennox.”
With that ominous statement, she gestures toward the door. “The tour’s complete. You’re free to do whatever you’d like for the rest of the day. Settle into the house, explore the grounds, hide from this family, whatever you need.”
“Thank you, Eleanor.”
“You’re welcome. Despite everything, I’m glad Sebastian brought you home.”
She leaves me alone in the conservatory, surrounded by expensive plants and glass walls, and I sink onto a stone bench with my head in my hands.
The twins think I’m wonderful. Eleanor knows entirely too much. Sebastian has shown me a softer side this morning and that confuses everything I think I know about him.
And I still have seven hundred and twenty-seven days to go. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I do neither. I just sit in Eleanor’s sanctuary and try to figure out who the hell I’m supposed to be in this twisted family I’ve been sold into.
Mrs. Sebastian Drake. Aunt Lennox. The woman strong enough to survive this family.
Or just Lennox Briggs, counting down days until she can escape. I don’t know any more. And that terrifies me more than anything else.