Mr. James stood at the writing desk in the anteroom,
reviewing a small leather-bound notebook whose pages had long since learned the
rhythm of the household. He did not rush. Preparations, he believed, were best
approached with the same care one gave to fragile objects—too much haste, and
something essential was always cracked.
Anna stood beside him, her posture upright, her expression
alert but reserved. As head maid, she knew better than to interrupt unless
invited.
"The guest list will remain unchanged," Mr. James said at
last, closing the notebook. "Formal attire. The car will be ready by six.
Inform the driver that there may be a longer stay than usual."
"Yes, Mr. James," Anna replied promptly. "Shall I arrange flowers?"
"No," he said after a brief pause. "The hostess will have done so already."
Anna tilted her face slightly, then hesitated. "And for Mr. Michael's companion, sir?"
Mr. James adjusted his cuff, his movements precise. "Lila."
Anna's expression flickered—not with surprise, exactly, but recognition. "Of course."
"Contact her personally," he added. "Be clear that she is invited as Mr. Michael's guest."
"I will be sure to. Anything else?"
Mr. James said no more. He moved to the window, gazing out at the gardens, seeing the flowers and apple trees beginning to take shape in the early light. "No," he said quietly. "That will be all for now, Anna."
Lila was, in her own way, dependable.
She had been circling around Michael's life for years—never close enough to demand acknowledgment, but always desperately signaling she was very attracted and available to him.
She had a talent for appearing wherever opportunity presented itself, she possessed the kind of cunning nature that Mr. James disliked.
Her affection for Michael was no secret, though she cloaked it in charm,
pretentiousness sophistication and playfulness.
She was careful never to ask for what she knew would not be given. Being publicly seen as his partner provided too many benefits she wasn't ready to lose on a reckless bet like that. No, she knew she was cleverer than that and could do better. He would eventually be hers of course, she deserved him at the very least.
Michael did not take lovers lightly, nor did he keep them long.
Lila was useful as a social cover, and he preferred to keep things strictly professional between them. She accompanied him to dinners and galas, and served her purpose to him. And though he found her vapid way of talking slightly irritating, he turned a blind eye to her ambitions towards him. In her presence, people assumed intimacy and moved on. That alone made her
valuable.
More importantly, she served as a social buffer. Especially after what happened with Allie.
Mr. James' mouth tightened slightly at that thought. The memory lingered like an ominous shadow he preferred not to examine too closely. Allie's presence in Michael's life had not merely unsettled the household—it had affected its master in a way that was life changing. He resented the influence she still held over his life indirectly.
Yes, indirect it may be now, but how unfortunately powerful that terrible influence
still was.
Lila, for all her opportunism, posed no immediate threat to the status quo. She wanted him, yes—but at least she hadn't schemed against Michael the way his mother and Allie had.
Anna returned with a notepad. "Shall I remind her of the dress code?"
"Yes," Mr. James said. "Formal. Reserved."
Anna paused. "She has a tendency toward… exuberance."
"So does the hostess," Mr. James replied evenly. "That is precisely why Miss Lila Rosenbart will do."
Anna nodded, understanding. "Very well."
As she turned to leave, Mr. James added, "And Anna—"
She stopped.
"Ensure Miss Lila is aware that this evening is not about her."
Anna met his gaze and assured Mr James. "I'll make it as clear as I can."
When she had gone, Mr. James remained by the window.
Somewhere beyond the gardens, beyond the careful order of hedges and stone,
forces were already in motion—pride, resentment, old wounds dressed in silk.
Lila would arrive dressed impeccably. Michael would tolerate
her presence with practiced ease. His mother would smile as though nothing had
ever been broken.
And Mr. James, as always, would ensure that everything
appeared exactly as it should. Little did he know that things would be a little different this time.