Page 58 of Silks

“You mean our Greener Acres,” I corrected. “Anything that’s mine is yours, Ophelia.”

And, not caring who saw me, I wrapped my sister up in my arms and held her tight to my chest.

Epilogue (Ophelia)

“And here’s Mintmaker,” I said proudly, patting the horse’s warm hazelnut-colored flanks. “Former last-place finisher at the Kentucky Derby and now full-time lady of leisure at the Barrington Greener Acres.”

My tour group ooed and aaahhed. After the scandal at the Kentucky Derby last year, Mintmaker was one of the most infamous horses in the world, though that was hardly her fault. I handed her a handful of hay.

“What about your entry in the Derby this year?” one of the visitors asked.

“Barrington Stables is under new management,” I said happily. “And after all these new changes, I have complete confidence going forward. Bloodmate is one of the favorites to win, but even if he doesn’t, he always has a home at Greener Acres.”

Just then, I heard a door shut and Teddy walked down the steps of the little adjacent office where we managed Barrington Stables & Greener Acres (and I finished my Master’s thesis), holding the incredibly adorable 3-month-old Wentworth Barrington in his arms.

The tour group erupted in delighted coos at our baby’s round cheeks, chunky legs, and shock of bright blonde hair.

“All clean with a fresh organic diaper,” Teddy said, smiling at me.

I bit my lip at the smug expression on my twin’s face.

Told you I’d change all the diapers.

“There’s such a family resemblance between the two of you,” an older woman gushed. “You can really tell that you’re related! Look at those blue eyes!”

Teddy’s lips twitched with amusement.

As far as anyone knew, Teddy was simply the world’s most supportive brother. And if anyone guessed the truth, the CEO of Barrington Industries was rich enough and powerful enough to make the problem go away.

I held out my arms for our baby, cradling him as we leaned against the fence, loving the milky smell of his sweet head, my other hand patting Mintmaker’s soft warm nose.

“It’s almost Derby Week,” I said as we watched the tour bus leave.

“I enjoyed breeding you at last year’s Derby,” Teddy replied, his voice warm like a hot drink, like a crackling fire, like home. “You looked incredible with that huge round belly. I want to do that again.”

“I recall other less pleasant things about that weekend,” I said, but I felt my belly flip-flop with a heady anticipation at the thought of my brother’s relentless breeding obsession.

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