Gemma shrugged.
“I think Grayson is mistaken.” Westley grinned in my direction. “We’ll be sharing a wing and a room. She’s my wife.”
A muscle in Grayson’s jaw twitched.
Despite being in the foyer, Mrs. du Lac held her crystal wine glass up in the air, waiting for a servant to appear to top her off, as she’d done all through dinner.
“Shouldn’t you grab your belongings?” Mrs. du Lac asked, words cold. I scratched the back of my head, realizing where m
y stuff was.
“Oh. My. God.” Gemma covered her mouth, eyes bright and gleaming. “You have to grab your stuff from the servants’ quarters.” She started laughing through her fingers.
“Gemma Antionette,” Tansy chastised, but Gemma kept laughing.
I looked at the floor.
I took a step.
“What are you doing? Are you going to grab it yourself?” Mrs. du Lac managed to sound both scandalized, insulted, and delighted all at once.
My heart pounded, absolutely frozen. Every breath was a mistake.
“I—”
“I’ll go,” Grayson growled.
“Grayson.” Tansy swallowed her shocked breath.
“She’s got, like, two shirts and a dollar-store skirt. This is fucking stupid.”
I watched Grayson head to the servants’ quarters to the sound of his mother’s protests—to grab my shitty clothes.
My eyes locked with Lottie’s. She exhaled, worked her jaw to the side, then looked away.
“Are you going to grab the uniform too?” Gemma called out.
One by one, I took the stairs to the guest wing. West had left me to “go do damage control.” It was just me in this dark hallway…and I focused on the hollow sound of my steps, trying not to think of all the times I’d taken them as a servant.
I didn’t see him at my back until his arm wrapped around my waist.
I stiffened at first, expecting West.
Then I knew. I knew by his scent, his feel, just the Grayson of it all.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to worm myself out of his grip, but he tightened his arm. In his other hand he held my meager belongings.
“You shouldn’t be taking the stairs alone. You’re pregnant—”
“SHHH!” I shushed him, looking over my shoulder.
His eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t know?”
“He’s my husband. What do you think?”
His grip tightened. West actually didn’t know, but I was so fucking pissed at Grayson. I wanted him to squirm, even if it was for a second.
We arrived at the double doors to my new wing—West and my new wing—when Grayson spoke full volume.