Page 85 of The Rose (The Godwicks 2)

“But—”

“But nothing. You will let your daughter have her own life or you will be sleeping alone from tonight until Christmas.”

“Mona, I will not just stand here and let—”

“You won’t stand,” Mum said. “You will sit. You will sit and eat breakfast, and that is your penance and you will take it like a man. You have been the scourge of mothers and fathers and brothers and boyfriends since you were fourteen, you hypocritical whore.”

“Mum, please don’t call Daddy a whore in front of me,” Lia said. “It makes my mouth feel horrid—like when I taste perfume.”

“Sorry, darling.” Her mother kissed her cheek. “Get your breakfast. Sit and eat. We’re all friends here.”

“Don’t feel bad, Lord Godwick,” August said. “I’m a whore, too.”

“August, you can stop speaking any minute now,” Lia said.

“He can speak, dear,” Mum said.

“Thank you, Lady Godwick.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Bowman.” Her mother sat next to Lia’s father and started in on her breakfast.

“Please, call me August,” he said.

“What questions did you have for us, August?” Mum asked. The old girl was taking it well, Lia had to admit. Daddy was red-faced and ready for mayhem, but her mother carried off having her daughter’s lover at the breakfast table with aplomb.

“I’m not having this conversation,” her father said.

“Then I’ll have it,” her mother said. “Go on, August.”

“Is he wearing my shirt?” Daddy asked.

“Lia fed my shirt to the dog,” August said.

“That wasn’t very nice, Lia,” her mother chided.

“It was my fault for letting the dog eat her—”

“Socks,” Lia finished.

“You know dogs and socks.” August went about buttering his toast as if this wasn’t the second-most humiliating moment of her life.

“The questions, please,” her father said. Lia was grateful Daddy was so healthy. At fifty-eight, he could run circles around men half his age. Otherwise he might have keeled over from a heart attack at the table.

“The kylix you gave Lia for her graduation,” August said. “Where did you get it?”

“You know perfectly well. It was up for auction at Christie’s.”

“But you bought it in a preempt. The seller was anonymous.”

Daddy shrugged. “I’d told my agent I wanted something special for Lia, something that had a connection to Greek mythology, price no object. He called around and in a few days he had some choices for me. He sent pictures. I picked that one.”

“There were others?” August asked. Her father nodded. “Why did you pick that one in particular?”

“Could someone tell me why I’m answering this man’s questions?” Daddy dropped his fork on the table with a clatter.

“Because I told you to,” her mother said, and patted his hand.

“My daughter likes mythology. Why else?”

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