With her ankles crossed like the Princess of Wales, she held her saucer and sipped her tea. The scones were left untouched because she hardly ate to remain as thin as she was. She only offered food to be polite. She returned the saucer to the table. “How are things, Bastien?”
I hated small talk. “The same. How’s the country house coming along?”
“Ugh, one of the pipes broke, and there was a terrible flood. Delayed the renovation quite a bit.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“There are worse things,” she said. “So, are you seeing anyone?”
She always asked me this because she was interested in continuing the family line, not because she cared about my happiness. I didn’t answer the question, not wanting to discuss my relationship with Fleur, not because I wanted to hide it—but protect it. “No.”
“
