Jasper's face contorted with anger as he glared down at Lyra. "Your husband? Some nobody you married for convenience. What does it matter? You're just a homewrecker like your mother."
Lyra rolled her eyes. The comparison to Colette stung, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing it.
"Are you quite finished?" she asked, her voice deliberately bored. "I have actual work to do today."
Jasper stepped closer, his voice dropping to a hiss. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Wiggling your way into my uncle's bed, trying to secure your position here."
She moved to step around him, but the sound of rapid footsteps made her pause. Orla appeared at the top of the staircase, her face a picture of righteous indignation. Perfect timing, Lyra thought. Too perfect to be coincidental.
"Oh my God!" Orla's voice carried across the foyer. "Are you still pestering my husband, Lyra?"
