It was rude of me, but all I could think of in that moment was Asher. He knew so little about my past. How could I marry him without telling him the truth about what happened to my parents?

Chapter Sixteen

Tinsley

The cousin

The rain outside was slowing to a drizzle, the soft pings on the glass a soothing soundtrack for the latest book I was reading. Curled up on my bed, I flicked through the sodden pages of one of my favorite weather-worn mystery paperbacks, seeing the words but not really comprehending them.

How could I focus on a fictional mystery when a real-life one was unfolding before me?

I closed the book and went to the window, looking out at the furious sky and the drenched courtyard below.

Bri and Mara were sitting out there, tucked under an umbrella. They had their feet up on the tables (how rude!), and they appeared to be giving themselves pedicures. Their mouths were moving, chatting about something. A couple of empty bottles of wine at their feet.

I rolled my eyes and moved away from the window. Next, I strolled through the hallway, passing by Rosalee’s room. Her door was cracked and from there, I could see her poised in a fancy seat at the dressing table. LeeAnn hovered behind her with a bobby pin clenched in her teeth, tightly winding Rosalee’s hair.

Silently, I moved through the long dark hallway and down the stairs, passing by the sunroom with the masseuses, Elizabeth, and Georgia. Both women appeared to be sleeping now, Elizabeth snoring like a baby pig.

For a moment, I considered joining them—I’d never had a massage before; they were a luxury I couldn’t normally afford—but decided against it. I could have gone into the wet, hazy courtyard and tried to blend in with Mara and Bri, but I had no interest in spending time with them, either. They seemed like they belong together. Maybe Mara will have a new best friend to replace Rosalee with after this trip, I thought.

As usual, no one seemed to notice me, as I moved through the house, looking again at the jaw-dropping library and examining the thick, heavy oil paintings on the walls. The Leblanc-Landry mansion was an interesting place. There were no shortages of places with creepy histories in New Orleans, but the Leblanc-Landry one was decidedly darker than usual.

The Landry’s were a wealthy, prominent family who bequeathed the estate to their one and only son, William Landry. When he fell in love with a local merchant’s daughter, his family was beyond disappointed. But he didn’t care, marrying Vivian Landry anyway. Together, they had six beautiful children, and according to local legend, they were the happiest and wealthiest family in town.