~CELINE~

The china clinked softly as I arranged the delicate teacups on the silver tray, my hands steadier than my nerves.

Through the drawing room's open doors, I could hear the graceful chatter of Mrs. Eleanor Reid's afternoon gathering...a monthly torture session she insisted on hosting here rather than at her estate.

"It's tradition, darling," she had told Hunter when he had protested yesterday. "The Reid mansion has always been the center of proper society."

What she meant was that ...