AN EXCERPT FROM THE FIRST CHAPTER, I. GRAMP
"So, gramp," Valerie started, smiling, tucking her dark hair behind one ear. "What do you think about the Everards? You've met them, right? You were in Margaret's story."
Their grandfather looked up to study them with dark eyes, a stark contrast to his greying hair. "Hmm," he said, turning to look at his wife. "I figure your grandmother did not tell you what you wanted."
Violet answered, "She will in time. I am sure of it."
Fiona Trilby simply smiled.
When their grandfather looked back at them both, he said, "The Everards..."
The twins waited but the man did not continue.
"Yes. Who did you like the most?" Valerie urged.
He shrugged. "I liked Cole the best."
"But he was not an Everard!" Violet said.
"He married into the Everards," Valerie provided.
"Ah, yes, of course," he said with a chuckle. "Well, I liked the ladies the most. They were quite fun."
"And among the men?"
Their grandmother laughed while her husband groaned. "I would rather not choose, believe me."
"But we want to know!"
"Is it Ralph? He is closest to your age since he is the youngest of all the brothers," Valerie asked.
"No," their grandfather said, shaking his head. "And I was way younger than him."
"Benedict?" asked Violet. "I like Benedict."
"He was often away in Devonshire. No, it is not him."
"Levi?"
"Too bloody beautiful."
The twins snorted. "Then who? Between Maxwell and Nicholas, I bet you liked—"
"Nick," said Eddie Trilby. "I liked Nick the most."
The twins turned to their grandmother. "Was he a rake like Nick?" Valerie asked, pointing at the old man before her.
Their grandmother shook her head as she lovingly stared at her husband. "Not quite."
"Nick shared amazing stories of his travels from all over the Town," their grandfather pointed out. "And he is quite an easy man to be with than Max. That bloke was too bloody difficult to read."
"I like Max," Violet admitted. "He is an alluring, cynical bastard," she added with a chuckle.
Their grandfather rolled his eyes. "I do agree with the last two words, dear. The alluring part I will consider."
"You were intimidated by him, were you not?" asked Valerie in a teasing voice.
"Intimidated?" Eddie Trilby asked in disbelief. He stared at his wife incredulously. "I have told you that you painted me wrong in those books."
Fiona Trilby shrugged. "They were about the Everards, dear, not you or the rest of the Trilbys. I had to paint you how you were when I was at a certain age."
"You mean eight," said Valerie. "You were eight when you appeared first in Margaret's story."
Their grandfather had a knowing look on his face. "I know dear. No one would dare forget that."
He looked over at his wife and they both shared a gentle look, one that spoke of years of both pain and joy.
Violet was staring at their grandparents. "So, can you at least tell us if whether or not it is true that you are cousins? Because it would entirely change our lives if it is."
Their grandfather, like he always did, threw his head back and laughed. Slowly, as his laughter died down, he stood up from his chair. "Fee, dear, is there any tea left?"
"Yes, of course," his wife said, coming to her feet.
Valerie and Violet groaned with frustration.
"The two of you are the worst storytellers ever," Valerie called out to them.
"Will you at least tell us about the Trilbys?" Violet asked.
"Will you ever tell us anything?" Valerie asked with a groan.
Their grandfather looked over his shoulder as his wife walked past him to go to the kettle.
His wrinkled eyes glimmering, he mouthed, "Later."