Delaney turned away from the miserable couple. She picked up her small travel bag and walked up the stone steps.
As she passed her aunt, she saw the sheer hatred burning in Eunice's tear-filled eyes and Eunice saw the smirk on Delaney's face as she walked into the house. It was a very small, very dark smile. It was the smile of a woman who knew exactly how much power she held over them all.
Delaney stepped through the heavy front doors and entered the grand foyer.
The house smelled of beeswax polish and old wood. The portraits of her ancestors hung on the walls, their painted eyes seeming to watch her return. She ignored them all.
She walked toward the main staircase. A young maid, wearing a plain gray dress and a white apron, was hurrying down the hall with an armful of clean linens.
Delaney stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
Inside, Delaney called the maid to clean her room.
