you can do about getting power of attorney for me, or anything else that will shore up my position." Power of attorney was a long shot, but maybe a few strings could be pulled.
"I’ve already started," Alex said quietly.
Next Gray called his broker. His instructions were brief, and explicit. If worst came to worst, he would need every bit of ready cash he could scrape together.
Now for the hardest part. Monica was staring at him, her big, dark eyes filled with alarm. "Something’s wrong, isn’t it?" she asked.
He mentally braced himself, then took Monica’s hand in his. "Let’s go talk to Mother," he said.
She started to ask something else, but he shook his head. "I can only say it once," he said, his voice rough.
Noelle was enjoying her last cup of tea as she read the society section of the New Orleans newspaper. Prescott had its own small weekly paper, in which she was regularly mentioned, but being in the New Orleans paper was what really counted. Her name was listed there often enough to make her the envy of the rest of the parish society. She was dressed in her favorite white, with her sleek dark hair pulled back into a French twist. Her makeup was minimal but perfect, her jewelry expensive but understated. There was nothing gaudy or frivolous about Noelle, not one bow or ruffle or jarring bit of color, just clean, classic lines. Even her nails never wore anything but clear polish.
She looked up as Gray and Monica entered the breakfast parlor, and her gaze flicked briefly to their clasped hands. She didn’t comment on it, though, for that would express personal interest, and perhaps invite the same. "Good morning, Gray," she greeted him, her voice perfectly composed as always. Noelle could violently hate someone, but the person would never be able to tell by her voice; it never revealed warmth, affection, anger, or any other emotion. Such a display would be common, and Noelle allowed nothing about herself to sink to that low standard. "Shall I call for another pot of tea?"
"No, thank you, Mother. I need to talk to you and Monica; something serious has happened." He felt Monica’s hand tremble in his, and squeezed it reassuringly.
Noelle put aside the newspaper. "Should we be more private?" she asked, concerned that one of the servants would overhear them discussing a personal matter.
"There’s no need." Gray pulled out a chair for Monica, then stood behind her with one hand on her shoulder. Noelle would be upset because of the social nuances, the embarrassment of it, but Monica’s pain would be worse. "I don’t know of any way to make this easier. He didn’t leave a note or anything like that, but Dad seems to have left town with Renee Devlin. They’re both gone."
Noelle’s slender hand fluttered toward her throat. Monica was motionless, not even breathing.
"I’m sure he wouldn’t take a woman like that on a business trip," Noelle said with calm certainty. "Think how it would look."
"Mother – " Gray cut himself off, stifling his impatience. "He isn’t on a business trip. Dad and Renee Devlin have run away together. He won’t be coming back."
Monica gave a thin cry, and pressed both hands to her mouth to cut off the sound. Noelle’s face lost its color, but her movements were precise as she placed her teacup in the center of the saucer. "I’m sure you’re mistaken, dear. Your father wouldn’t risk his social position for – "
"For God’s sake, Mother!" Gray snapped, his tenuous control on his patience snapping like a thread. "Dad doesn’t give a rat’s ass about his social position. You’re the one it’s important to, not him!"
"Grayson, it isn’t necessary to be vulgar."
He ground his teeth together. It was typical of her to ignore something she found unpleasant and focus on the trivial. "Dad’s gone," he said, deliberately emphasizing the words. "He’s left you for Renee. They’ve run away together, and he won’t be coming back. No one else knows it yet, but it’ll
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