All That Lies Broken (Ashmore's Folly Book 2) (75 page)

“How did you go to the airport without a car?” Mark folded his arms. “And that’s another thing. What is she doing here? She’s supposed to be with Emma. We agreed you wouldn’t bring her here.”

And then he stopped, and his eyes watered, and he sneezed.

No, no,
no
. But Max, eager to be part of the action, had come into the hall to see what the fuss was. He wended his way around, brushed his tail against various legs, and offered a small “Mwow.”

Mark sneezed again. “What’s that cat doing here?”

And then they saw it happen. It hit Mark St. Bride, all at once, the significance of Max’s presence at Ashmore Park. “Oh, dear God!” He turned on her furiously. “You’re living with him, aren’t you? My God, you little slut, it wasn’t enough to spread your legs for him all weekend, you had to—”

“St. Bride.” Richard’s warning whipped across the hall. Lucy frowned and shook her head at him.

“Mark!” She let her shock show at his coarseness.

“You brought her here when you’re shacking up with
him
—”

The entrance hall tilted crazily in a momentary vertigo. She forced herself to speak calmly. “We are not living together, Mark, and I would appreciate it if you did not speak to me like that. You are jumping to conclusions—”

He sliced across her. “This has gone far enough. I was prepared to overlook your little fling, but when you drag your daughter into it, I have to stop you. We’re going.”

“No, we are not! Mark, calm down, it’s not what you think—”

“It’s exactly what I think.
Pack your bags
.”

Laura drew a deep breath and said, “No.”

That one word dropped into the silent hall.

Mark stared at her. She made herself meet his eyes and dared not look at the others. Was this part of her penance? To be publicly shamed? To be called a slut in front of her daughter?

“Fine.” Mark turned to Meg. “Since your mother is incapable of reason, go get your things, and no backtalk. You are not spending another night under this roof.”

“Excuse me!” Laura stepped between them. “She’ll do no such thing. Mark – you’re overreacting, and, with all due respect, you have no right to barge in here and tell my daughter what to do. You’re not her parent. I’m not happy about her running away, but
I’ll
decide when—“

“Run away!” he erupted. “She said you told her to come stay with you.”

Meg said in a tiny voice, “That’s not exactly true.”

His face turned mottled red. His blood pressure had to be going through the roof.

“You,” he pointed a finger at Meg, “are an undisciplined little brat, and you have been allowed to get away with murder for far too long. And you!” The finger turned to Laura and shook in her face. “I see now why Cam kept such a tight rein on you. He saw this rebellious streak in you and took steps to keep you from running amok. I’ve been too lax with you. Since you can’t control your daughter—”

“That finger, St. Bride.” Richard’s voice was deadly.

“I can and I do control my daughter!” She felt stunned at his words. “Mark—”

He ran over her words. “I did not intend to interfere because I thought that, in light of last year, she needed her mother. But it’s become clear you cannot control her. Talking back! Failing school! Running away! No wonder she behaves so abominably, considering what you expose her to.”

Laura said between her teeth, “I haven’t exposed her to anything.”

“I am removing her from this household. You are over 21. I can’t do anything about your immoral, disgraceful behavior, but I can and I will make sure my brother’s only child is no longer exposed to your – your—”

“My what?” She stepped right into his face. “Say it, Mark. My what?”

His eyes flashed to Richard, only a foot behind her. What he saw seemed to give him pause. “She is returning with me.”

“She is not!” She could never have dreamed, driving back to face her fate, that instead of confessing to Richard, she would stand here fighting a challenge to her daughter. She felt a movement behind her and glanced over her shoulder.

Meg was inching behind Richard, a small animal seeking protection from the wolf.

“She is,” said Mark coldly. “And don’t dictate to me about your rights. I am invoking the custody agreement you signed with Cam last year. You agreed that, if you were not able to serve as her guardian, he would assume the managing conservatorship and you would revert to visitation privileges. I am stepping in as his executor and taking custody. We will discuss your visitation later, when you’ve come to your senses.”

At that, Lucy stirred.

“Excuse me,” she drawled. “That’s a novel interpretation of your role as executor. The petition was withdrawn and the divorce was never final, am I correct? So that agreement has no effect. The law isn’t going to let you divorce her and take custody on your brother’s behalf.”

“We’ll let a court decide,” Mark shot back, and Laura stood still in shock.

It had finally happened. What she had feared from Richard had now come from a totally unexpected quarter. Her rights to Meg – the rights that, even as they negotiated the divorce, Cam had taken for granted – were under attack.

She scrambled for words, but Meg beat her to it. “Hey, Mark! You can’t do this! I’m thirteen. I know my rights. I get a say in this—”

“Like me,” Julie said suddenly. “That’s right, Meg. I get to say who I live with.”

Mark’s eyes flicked over her. “You,” he addressed Meg, “have no say. No court in this country will permit you to live under the same roof with your mother and her married lover. She can whore around all she wants, but—”

“That’s enough.” Richard’s voice cut like a diamond. “You are speaking to my guest. Watch your language, St. Bride.”

“Or what?” Mark, unwisely, stepped past Laura into Richard’s space and jabbed that finger into his chest. “Or you’ll do what, Ashmore? Huh? Huh?”

The room froze.

What on earth was he doing? Richard had more than half a foot on him and a runner’s agility – did Mark not see how close he was to losing that finger? But of course he did. He was baiting him, trying to force a reaction. Richard did not play along. He merely stared down at Mark with cold eyes and made him wait.

Laura scarcely breathed. Through the fog of fear and humiliation – had he really called her a whore in front of her family? – she heard the faint sound of antlers crashing.
This isn’t your forest, Mark. You’re challenging a stag who will fight to the death to defend what’s his.

Richard put his hand out and forced Mark’s finger down at an unnatural angle. Mark winced.

“I will take great pleasure in throwing you off my property,” he said, every word spaced out. “This is my home, St. Bride, and you are not welcome to barge in here, insulting my guest in such a vulgar manner and ordering her daughter around. No matter what activities you feverishly imagine to be taking place under this roof, you will not behave so offensively to Laura again, and you will not use that language in front of my daughter and my niece. Do you understand?”

Mark was breathing heavily, his fist clenched at his side.

Richard had knocked the wind out of his sails, and he knew it. They all knew it.

“You have no right to interfere, Ashmore.” He sounded defensive, even whiny. “Meg is my brother’s child, and no one, not even that little slut—” Richard shifted his balance forward, and he backtracked hastily— “your girlfriend here, or your hired gun – no one will stop me from protecting my niece.”

“I don’t need protection,” Meg said from behind Richard. “Not from my mother.”

Richard never took his eyes from Mark. “Show me a paper that gives you the right to take her from her mother,” he said flatly. “Until then, I will assume you have the same right to Meg as an uncle that I do – none at all.”

“I have every right, Ashmore,” Mark retorted. “Her
father
gave me that right. His will made me her guardian if Laura was unable to take care of her.”

A long silence. Laura held her breath.

“Regrettably,” Richard returned, “her father is dead, and her mother – who is quite capable of taking care of her – is her sole guardian.”

Mark said, teeth clenched, “I can get that changed.”

“Fine,” Richard said. “Get it changed. Get a signed order from a judge with jurisdiction over Meg, authorizing you to remove her
for good cause
from Laura’s care, and neither her aunt nor I will stand in your way. Until that time, you will not come in here and attempt to take my niece from her mother, and you will not, I repeat,
not
insult my guest or put your hands on her again.”

He held Mark’s stare a few seconds longer, then turned to Julie. “You girls go upstairs to the media room and shut the door. This is not a suitable conversation for you to hear.”

Laura expected Meg to erupt – she wouldn’t want to miss the fireworks – but what she saw startled her. Julie merely nodded in response. No rebellion this time about being sent out of the room – she knew that her father meant business. And Meg—

Meg was staring up at Richard with wonder.

He’d stood up for her. He’d protected her. He had defended—

What’s his.
A chill rippled across Laura’s skin.

“Come on, Meg.” Julie spoke with her father’s authority. “Let’s go watch a DVD.”

The girls sidled around the adults. Richard walked to the end of the hallway and watched them mount the stairs. Once he made sure that they had shut the door upstairs, he said, “The media room is soundproofed. They can’t hear anything. I suggest,” he gestured towards the dining room, “we sit down and discuss this.”

“I suggest you butt out of this, Ashmore,” Mark retorted. “This is none of your business.”

Richard looked at him with utter contempt. “You’ve made it my business,” he said. “You’ve invaded my home and caused a scene. You’ve accused your sister-in-law and me of exposing two minor children to inappropriate behavior. Lucy,” he turned to her, “I need you to stay.”

“Happy to,” said Lucy, and Laura saw it then, a silent communication between Richard and Lucy.

Instead of waiting for everyone else to sit, Richard took the seat at the far end, leaving Mark and Laura with only side seats. Laura stole a glance at Mark and saw that the geography was not lost on him. He had just been reminded, in no uncertain terms, that he was not master of the universe here. He had been shoved to the sidelines, a buck put in his place by the king of the forest.

She dropped into a side chair and tried not to shake. She felt rage bubbling up inside her – at Mark for his accusations, at Cam for giving him power over her. She was breaking that power as of this day. Let him rant and rave, call her any names he pleased. He might be trustee over her fortune, but she could easily survive on Cat Courtney until she turned 35. A St. Bride had pushed her around for the last time.

“Now,” said Richard, as if presiding over a business meeting, “we’ll discuss this in a civilized manner. Laura, your show.” She stared at him. “Lucy and I will serve as witnesses. Lucy, will you record this?”

“Sure.” Lucy placed a small silver recorder on the table and switched it on. “Meeting with Mark St. Bride, July 6—”

Mark interrupted.

“Knock it off, Ashmore. Don’t act like you don’t have a stake in this. I know your game, even if she is too stupid to see what you’re after.”

Laura felt herself going into meltdown.

“Really?” Richard returned heat with ice. “And what is my game?”

Mark got up, retrieved his briefcase from the entrance hall, and smacked it down on the table without regard for the antique finish. He pulled two manila envelopes out with a flourish. “I know all about you,” he said. “I’ve got your financial records, your client list, a list of your—” he paused— “lady friends.”

Richard’s face gave nothing away.

“I know everything about you, Ashmore. I’ve had an operative working on you for weeks. I know you’re running out of money for this place. A high-maintenance property – your expenses are going up every year, and that nice little trust fund from your great-grandmother is dwindling. You and your father have been drawing on the principal for years.”

He paused. “I wonder – does she know? Have you told her you’re going to have to sell in the next twenty years unless you can bag yourself an heiress?”

Laura drew in a breath. She thought she heard Lucy swear under her breath.

“She’s a nice catch for you, isn’t she? Know what she’s worth today? A third of a billion dollars.” Oh, damn, damn,
damn
. Her heart sank into her sandals. “Hold on a few months, it’ll be twice that. And that’s not counting Cat Courtney – there’s another easy 50 million or so. Her last album sold ten million copies worldwide. She stands to make millions from her tour this fall. Her songwriting royalties alone bring in a quarter of a million a year. That would all come in real handy, wouldn’t it? You could keep this place going for centuries.”