"If your sister can''t behave herself, perhaps she should stay home and learn some manners, instead of running around biting people like a rabid dog."


    Lyman''s gaze swept over Mitchell, cold and cutting, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a mocking smirk.


    Mitchell''s expression darkened instantly. His fists clenched at his sides before he could stop himself.


    But he knew better than to cross Lyman. Drawing a deep breath, he forced down his anger and replied, his voice low and icy, "Yes, Mr. Etheridge. You''re right."


    Lyman and Effie paid him no further attention.


    Lyman slipped an arm around Effie''s waist and led her away.


    Mitchell stood watching them go, a bitter ache twisting in his chest, leaving him at a loss for words.


    Lyman felt Effie tense beside him. He looked down, his eyes warm and steady. "Don''t worry," he murmured, "I''m here. If she upset you, I could have someone teach her another lesson-just say the word."


    Effie couldn''t help butugh. "No need. Didn''t you see? I was the one with the upper hand. I even pped her. I''d say I won this round."


    A smile broke over Lyman''s face. His little wife was tougher than she looked.


    Everyone nearby had witnessed the scene, and whispers rippled through the crowd. No one had ever seen Lyman so attentive to a woman before. The way he looked at Effie left no doubt about their closeness. Eyes turned to Effie, now filled with curiosity-and envy.


    Effie carried herself with ease andposure. She''d expected to feel nervous running into Mitchell, but now, looking at him, he seemed like nothing more than a stranger.


    Lyman hardly ever made appearances like this, but as soon as he did, someone pulled him away for a conversation.


    Knowing he had business to handle, Effie offered to stay behind and grab a bite to eat.


    Lyman shot her a quick nce before leaving.


    Effie''s stomach rumbled. She''d heard the desserts here were famous-made by a seven-star French pastry chef flown in for the asion. She helped herself to a slice of mousse cake and savored it slowly.


    Suddenly, a figure stepped in front of her, blocking her view.


    Effie frowned and looked up-straight into Mitchell''s insufferable face.


    Her appetite vanished in an instant. The mousse cake lost all its appeal.


    With a note of annoyance, Effie said, "You know, decent people don''t block the way."


    Mitchell''s face went ck. "Effie, what''s that supposed to mean?"


    "Exactly what it sounds like. You''re in my way." Effie''s tone was cool, her brow furrowed.


    “Mr. Lloyd, please watch yourself. I have nothing to say to you. Kindly move aside."


    Mitchell bristled at her dismissal, his voice rising. "Effie, don''t think you can just ride Lyman''s coattails and be untouchable! I''m telling you, he''s not the guy you think he is. Who knows what he really wants from you?"


    Effie let out a dry, mockingugh. Her words were even, but there was an edge of scorn. "Mitchell, have you forgotten who betrayed whom first? Who I''m with now has nothing to do with you, so maybe keep your opinions to yourself."


    Mitchell''s mouth worked silently. He had noeback, and his expression grew even uglier.


    "Don''t get cocky, Effie. You really think Lyman cares about you? You''re just a fling to him!" Mitchell spat, bitterness sharpening his voice.


    Effie couldn''t be bothered to argue. "Mr. Lloyd, my rtionship with Lyman is none of your business. Maybe you should worry about your own life."


    With that, she stepped around him and walked away.


    Mitchell stood rooted in ce, watching her go, a wave of restless anxiety washing over him for reasons he couldn''t quite name.