“Of course.” Brianna laid a hand, support and comfort, on Shannon’s shoulder. “I’ve kept them in my dresser. Why don’t you come into the family parlor, and you can read them.”

But before Shannon could rise, there was a commotion in the hall. Voices fussed and clashed causing the hand on Shannon’s shoulder to tense once, briefly.

“It’s Mother,” she murmured. “And Lottie.”

“It’s all right.” Not at all sure if she was disappointed or relieved, Shannon patted Brianna’s hand. “I’ll look at them later.” She braced for whatever form the confrontation would take.

Maeve swept in first, still arguing. “I tell you I’ll not ask. If you’ve no pride yourself, I can’t stop you from it.” She caught sight of Shannon holding her granddaughter and lifted her chin.

“Well, you’re very much to home, I see.”

“Yes, I am. Brianna makes it impossible to be otherwise. Hello, Mrs. Sullivan.”

“Oh, Lottie, dear. You just call me Lottie like everyone. And how’s my angel today?” She bent over Kayla, cooing. “Look here, Maeve, she’s smiling.”

“Why shouldn’t she? She’s being spoiled right and left.”

“Brianna’s an incredibly loving mother,” Shannon shot back before she could stop herself.

Maeve merely sniffed. “The baby can’t so much as whimper that someone’s not snatching her up.”

“Including you,” Lottie put in. “Oh, Brie, what a lovely cake.”

Resigned that she’d have to bake another now for her guests’ dessert, Brianna took out a knife. “Sit down, won’t you, and have a piece.”

Liam shot out of the adjoining door, five paces ahead of his mother. “Cake!” he shouted.

“Got radar, that boy has.” However gruff her voice, Maeve’s eyes lit up at the sight of him. “There’s a likely lad.”

He beamed at her, sensing an ally, and lifted his arms. “Kiss.”

“Come sit on my lap,” Maeve ordered. “And you’ll have both, the cake and the kiss. He’s a bit flushed, Margaret Mary.”

“He’s just up from his nap. Are you cutting that cake then, Brie?”

“You should have more care with your diet, now that you’re breeding again,” Maeve told her. “The doctor says you’ve the morning sickness this time around.”

It was a toss-up as to who was more shocked by the statement, Maeve or Maggie. Already wishing the words back, Maeve began to feed her grandson bits of cake.

“It’s nothing.”

“She’s sick as a dog every morning,” Shannon corrected, looking directly at Maeve.

“Maggie, you told me it was passing.” There was accusation twined with the concern in Brianna’s voice.

Furious and embarrassed, Maggie glared at Shannon. “It’s nothing,” she repeated.

“Never could bear a weakness.”

Maeve’s caustic comment had the fury leaping. Before Maggie could spew, Shannon nodded in agreement. “She snaps like a terrier when you try to help her through it. It’s hard, don’t you think, Mrs. Concannon, for a strong woman to need help? And one like Maggie, who’s figured out how to handle a family and a demanding career, to lose her stomach and her control every morning . . . it’s lowering.”

“I was sick every morning for more than three months carrying her,” Maeve said crisply. “A woman learns to get through such things—as a man never could.”

“No, they’d just whine about it.”

“Neither of my daughters were whiners, ever.” Scowling again, Maeve looked over at Brianna. “Are you going to stand there holding that pot of tea all day, Brianna, or are you going to pour it out?”

“Oh.” She managed to lift the jaw that had dropped and serve the tea. “Sorry.”

“Thank you, darling.” Delighted with the way things were going, Lottie beamed.

For more than two years she’d been nudging and tugging Maeve toward even a shaky bridge with her daughters. Now it looked as though the span was narrowing.

“You know, Maggie, Maeve and I were just looking through the snapshots from our trip to your home in France.”

“No more pride than a beggar,” Maeve muttered, but Lottie just smiled.

“They reminded us both what a lovely time we had there. It’s the south of France,” she told Shannon. “The house is like a palace and looks right out over the sea.”

“And sits there empty, month after month,” Maeve grumbled. “Empty but for servants.”

Maggie started to snarl at the complaint, but caught Brianna’s arched look. It cost her, but she buried the hot words and chose kinder ones. “Rogan and I were talking about just that not long ago. We’d hoped to take a few weeks there this summer, but both of us are too busy to go just now.”

She let out a breath, telling herself she was earning points with the angels. “It’s been a bit of a concern to me that no one’s there to check on matters, and see that the staff is doing as it should.”

Which was a big, bold lie she hoped wouldn’t negate the points. “I don’t suppose the two of you would consider taking a bit of time and going out there? It would be a great favor to me if you could manage it.”

With an effort Lottie bit back the urge to spring up and dance. She looked at Maeve, cocked her head. “What do you think, Maeve? Could we manage it?”

As the image of the sunny villa, the servants dancing attendance, the sheer luxury of it all slid into her mind, she shrugged and brought the cup of tea to Liam’s waiting lips.

“Traveling aggravates my digestion. But I suppose I could tolerate a bit of inconvenience.”

This time it was Shannon’s warning glance that held back Maggie’s snarl. “I’d be grateful,” she said between clamped teeth. “I’ll have Rogan arrange to have the plane take you when it suits.”

Twenty minutes later Brianna listened to the front door close behind her mother and Lottie, then crossed the kitchen to give Maggie a hard hug.

“That was well done, Maggie.”

“I feel as if I’d swallowed a toad. Her digestion be damned.”

Brianna only laughed. “Don’t spoil it.”