Page 71 of The Fiancée Farce
“He didn’t say.” Brooks sounded contrite. “They were in the parlor and I couldn’t hear very well from the hall, so I went in and acted like I was surprised to see them all and spouted off some story about filching a bottle of brandy.”
“And?”
“And they seemed to buy it, which I’m not sure whether or not to be offended by. Regardless, Tucker didn’t say anything else on the matter, and when I pressed—”
“You weren’t obvious, were—”
“Gently, Gemma. I exerted minimal pressure. I’m not new. All Tucker said was that he didn’t want to jinx it. Whateveritis.” Brooks sniffed. “So then I spent the rest of the evening slandering you in hopes of ingratiating myself into your cousin’s good graces. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Thanks ever so.” Not that she didn’t appreciate the inside info, but... “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I’m your inside man, of course. I’m going to pass you intel.”
“You don’t like Tucker, so you’re going to keep my secret and pass me intel? Just like that?”
“That, and I’m settling a score with my brother. Victor’s thrownhis hat in with your cousin and now I get to try my hand at a little espionage. What’s not to enjoy? I haven’t had this much fun since that summer in Cannes with DiCaprio and those twins.”
Gemma retched. “Okay, first of all,ew. Second of all,oh my God, ew.”
“I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart. Helping my niece pull off a con like this?” His shoulders rose and fell with a hearty sigh. “Makes me feel all warm and gooey inside.”
“You are terrible.”
“Careful.” Brooks wagged a finger at her. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“I think it might’ve been.” Gemma made a show of looking left, right, then up at the ceiling. “Look at that. The world didn’t end.”
Her phonedidring, but she’d hardly call that an omen.
“One second.” She’d normally let it go to voicemail, but it might be Tansy. She slipped her phone free from her pocket.
Momwas calling.
“I’ve got to take this.”
Brooks shrugged. “By all means.”
“Mom, hi.”
Brooks sat up so fast he nearly fell off the couch. “Lena?”
Gemma stared at him. Since when was sheLenato Brooks? Since when was she anything to him at all?
“Gemma Lise van Dalen, I am going to wring your neck.”
She pulled the phone away from ear and winced.
Middle name territory.
Oh, goody.
“Hiya, Mom. What’s up? Are you good? You sound good.”
“Am I good?” Mom huffed. “Well, let’s see. I found out my own daughter, my flesh and blood, the child I labored over fortwenty-sevenhours, is getting married thanks tothe paper. So how do you think I am, Gemma?”
She cringed. But wait. “What do you meanthe paper?”
“I don’t hear you denying it,” Mom said, voice full of reproach.
