Victor’s face cycled from white to livid as he stared at Elena. At last he ground out, “Aunt.”
Elena answered with a playful lilt, “Yes? Since you didn’t know I was your aunt, I’ll overlook today’s incident. I only hope my dear nephew will never again behave so outrageously.”
Victor sucked in a long breath, clenched his molars, and strode past her toward the exit.
“Victor–wait for me!” Annabelle Bennett called, hurrying after him.
Delighted, Sir Whitmore turned back to the couple. “Elena, Simon, why don’t you come to the ancestral mansion for dinner tonight?”
Elena glanced up at Simon, unsure she had the standing to decide–after all, their relationship was only for show.
Simon arched a brow. “Why look at me? If you want to go, we’ll go; if you don’t, we’ll head home.”
His words respected her choice, yet she couldn’t refuse the old man’s kindness. In the end she nodded.
Sir Whitmore was ecstatic. “Come, come! This banquet is dull anyway–let’s be off.”
With that he took both their hands and steered them toward the door.
Spotting the scene, Adaline hurried over and called out, “In–law!”
Hearing the term, Sir Whitmore frowned and looked at her in puzzlement,
Wearing a coaxing smile, Adaline said, “In–law, I only just learned Elena and Simon are dating. Isn’t it improper for her to visit your mansion so soon?”
Sir Whitmore’s eyes darkened; a sardonic curve tugged at his mouth.
“Improper? It’s improper only when it involves Elena? When your daughter Annabelle nearly fooled around with a random man at my birthday party, why didn’t you cry impropriety then?” he retorted.
Adaline’s complexion turned deathly pale.
Everyone in their social circle already knew, but having Sir Whitmore announce it in public was a stinging slap to the Bennett family’s face.
Onlookers whispered and pointed; Adaline bowed her head in mortification.
Sir Whitmore gave a cold snort. “Elena, we’re leaving.”
Inside the car.
Sir Whitmore eyed the pair with unabashed curiosity. “Elena, when did you get together with this rascal, and how did he win you over?”
Elena burned with embarrassment. She sneaked a look at Simon, only to find teasing amusement playing at his lips–rescue clearly wasn’t coming from that quarter.
“Grandpa, actually we-” she began.
“Ah, you’re Simon’s girlfriend now. Why are you still calling me ‘Grandpa‘? Time to change the address,” he interjected.
Flustered, Elena managed, “Uncle Whitmore.”
He broke into a wide grin. “Good girll We’ll pick an auspicious date and hold your engagement banquet soon.”
“Uncle Whitmore-‘
“Dad!” Simon cut in. “Elena and I haven’t been together long. It’s far too early for that, and grilling a young lady like this will only embarrass
her.”
Sir Whitmore slapped his own forehead. “Right, right. Silly old mel Elena, don’t be angry. My son’s been a perpetual late bloomer; I just got carried away.”
Elena offered a small, forgiving smile.
She had intended to set the record straight, but with Simon’s words hanging in the air, she didn’t dare explain further.
–
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.