Breakfast with the Barnets is a long, tedious process.
I've been munching some bread with butter for a while, paying attention not to overeat. Even if I don't really care about my image all that much, it's better to avoid giving my husband's relatives any material for gossip.
«We're honoured to have you here, my Lord,» the Viscount says. «We're so surprised that you decided to pass by; but elated.»
«I have a reason to be here.» He smirks. «I've been exchanging letters with Bertha lately.»
The Viscountess grins, seeing the way Alexander refers to her daughter by the name. Her eyes shine, seeing something that isn't there.
My husband's annoyance isn't directed at the fact that his cousin is married. It's the person whose wife she is.
He didn't have anything against the Grahms until they attacked me.
But the Barnets can't know this.
