Justice for All by Olivia Hardin Page A

“You’ll get here pretty late.”
    “Or early, depending on how you look at it. Might as well ‘fess up, Jeremy. What’s going on there at the big house?”
    He hated when she called it that, even if the truth was Arrington Manor was in fact a “big” house. Still, he took her reference in the tone she meant it. She felt suffocated by their family’s wealth and stature. As soon as the opportunity had presented itself, she’d left for college. Jeremy felt differently, which was probably as it should have been since he was the heir. He would take over the estates and also the seat on the House of Lords when their father retired or passed away.
    “We have some guests.”
    “The cousins are here from Durma?” She practically shouted the question. Their Durman relatives rarely traveled to the United States and certainly never for holidays.
    “Kay, this is about Aunt Iggie.”
    She focused on making her way around a slower vehicle and then when in the clear, pressed hard on the gas. Angst tightened up into a ball in her belly, and she subconsciously scratched at her abdomen. “She’s alive?”
    Agnes “Iggie” Rawley was their father’s only sibling. When Kay was just an infant, Aunt Iggie had run off with her lover, and they’d never heard from her again. At least not in person. Kay had lived all of her life being constantly compared with Iggie. If their mother was the personification of womanhood, Iggie was who her parents did not want Kay to take after.
    “Apparently she died years ago. But she had a son, Kay. He’s not much younger than you, probably. He’s staying here at Arrington while he works to get her cottage in order.”
    The slew of emotions churning within her were as acidic as the bile rising into her throat. She swallowed and considered the implications of his words. “How do you know he’s her son?”
    “I know exactly where your mind is, Kay. I’m not going to deny that I thought the worst, too. At least reserve judgment until you meet them.”
    “Them?”
    “Oh,” Jeremy added, “Oh, he has a friend with him. A woman named Sealla and their daughter Nichole.”
    She gritted her teeth a few seconds, “I’ll see you in the morning, brother.”

 
    Kay sat, back straight, in front of her dressing table, brushing her blonde locks in long, careful strokes. “Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven…”
    When Nanny Bridget entered the room, a pretty pink frock draped across one arm, Kay looked up at the woman and nodded an acknowledgment dutifully. She was rewarded with a proud grin of approval.
    “Your hair looks most fetching, Miss Kay.”
    “Thank you, Nanny. I brushed it one hundred times.”
    “Ah.” Nanny’s gaze turned far away, and she hugged the dress against her chest as if embracing a memory. “Your momma’s hair would sparkle like golden strands. I do believe she had the most lovely blonde hair I have ever seen. Ever in my entire life.”
    Nanny was from the old country, as Kay’s daddy called it. Her momma had insisted the woman be brought here from Durma to be the children’s nanny. Kay thought the woman was ancient and stuffy, but her mother insisted she obey her nanny and follow her instruction. And Kay wanted nothing more than to make her parents happy.
    “Your momma is a lady, Miss Kay. Never forget that. She never gave her mother and father a single moment of worry. She was dutiful and always remembered her bearing. She was nothing like your Aunt Agnes. You must remember all of the distress that woman has caused your poor daddy. And you must never, never go down that path.”
    Kay’s eyes were wide, and she listened to Nanny, raising her hands when the woman began removing her dressing gown to put her into her birthday dress. The woman tugged and patted and brushed the wrinkles from the ruffled pink dress.
    “Ah, you are going to be the prettiest eight-year old in all of the United States. The only prettier girl I have ever seen was your darling mother at