Shooting the Rift - eARC Read Online Free PDF Page A

She tilted her head back, frowning in mock outrage, and drew me into a hug almost as rib-cracking as one of Tinkie’s, heedless of the creases she was adding to her already disheveled dress uniform. She’d obviously tried to smarten up for the occasion, but the plumes on her tricorn were beginning to droop, and a few strands of graying hair hung randomly about her face, escaping from beneath the brim. Breaking free of the embrace, she tried shoving them back for a moment, then tutted impatiently. “Stuff this for a game of dirtsloggers.” Whipping the hat from her head, she lobbed it casually through the open side window of her sled. “Where’s that good-for-nothing brother of mine?”
    “Dad? Trying to smooth things over with the caterers, probably,” I said. I’d seen Mother heading for the kitchens about half an hour ago, and if she’d run true to form there’d be ruffled feelings to soothe and gratuities to disburse in her wake.
    “More than likely,” Aunt Jenny said, knowing Mother of old. They didn’t exactly disapprove of one another, but Mother never bothered to hide the fact that she didn’t consider her sister-in-law’s duties with the Fleet Auxiliary quite Naval enough to be properly associated with the illustrious Forrester name, and Aunt Jenny never bothered to pretend that she gave the proverbial flying one what Mother thought about anything. Pretty much the only thing the two of them had in common was Dad, of whom, so far as I could tell, they were both genuinely fond.
    “Let’s find the drinks,” I said, proffering my arm, and Aunt Jenny grinned, in a way that reminded me strongly of my sister.
    “Best idea I’ve heard all day,” she agreed.

    As the evening wore on, the number of guests increased, and I did my best to fade into whatever quiet corners I could find. Never for long, though; Mother wanted me on display, in case any suitably connected spinsters happened to mention in passing that they were in desperate need of a spouse, and kept hauling me out for inspection. Which meant that, despite my best intentions, when the Devraies turned up I was still stuck in the entrance hall, balancing a glass of wine and a plate of finger food, neither of which I wanted.
    Alice and Mother greeted each other in the slightly overly effusive manner of people determined to mask their mutual antipathy, entirely unaware that they’d only succeeded in drawing attention to it. While they were braying insincere compliments at one another Sherman looked down his nose at me, which was a neat trick for someone almost a head shorter than I was, and Carenza smiled, regarding me the way Tinkie looked at something small and furry when she had a shotgun in her hands. I glanced round, hoping to see some sign of my sister, but she was on the far side of the room, surrounded by the sort of vapid young men whose heads were easily turned by the sight of a well-filled uniform, and was clearly enjoying herself far too much to come to my rescue.
    “This is an unexpected pleasure,” Carenza said, with a faintly arch smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see you before the Christmas vacation.”
    “Summerhall and I agreed I wasn’t cut out for estate management,” I said easily, ditching the surplus vol au vents behind a convenient aspidistra.
    “So we’d gathered,” Sherman put in, with a dismissive flap of his delicate lace cuffs. They were the height of fashion among those who cared about such things, which didn’t include me, and he took in my plain shirt and cravat with a barely concealed sneer. “But perhaps it’s just as well. We men should just stick to what we’re good at, and leave all the tedious stuff to the women.”
    “Remind me again,” I said, “just what it is you are good at.”
    Sherman bristled, but before he could come up with an adequate riposte Alice hooked his arm and hauled him away to make disparaging remarks about the array of refreshments on offer.
    Which left me alone with Carenza.