Hollywood Heir (Westerly Billionaire #4)(38)

Deciding that she’d put it off long enough, she’d taken the Tube to see Mrs. Westerly. She’d almost called ahead, but her gut told her things would go better if she didn’t give the woman too much time to think before they spoke.

She’d been wrong.

Mrs. Westerly’s home was impressive, or would have been if Sage cared about such things. She was obviously a woman with high standards. Everything from the perfectly manicured front bushes to the plaque beside the door that denoted the historical importance of the building screamed old, stuffy money. She doubted there was a weed in the garden—none would dare.

In Sage’s experience, the wealthy fell into one of two categories: those who desperately wanted to be important and those who were born believing they were. Mrs. Westerly was the latter.

A butler answered her door with a surprisingly welcoming smile. “Miss Revere, what a pleasant surprise. I’ll announce you to Mrs. Westerly.”

How did he know? “Thank you,” Sage said. People in her mother’s circle and above dissected each other, always weighing if the other was worthy. Mrs. Westerly probably knows more about my life and family now than I do. I should ask her how my stepmother’s trip to London went.

It wasn’t more than a moment or so before the butler was back. “Please follow me.”

Sage did. He led her to the doorway of a large library.

“She’s right inside. My name is Michael if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Michael.”

Sage spotted Mrs. Westerly almost immediately. The birdlike older woman was dressed as if she were ready to take tea with the queen. “Come in. Come in,” she said brusquely. “Don’t just stand there in the doorway gawking at me.”

Sage took a deep breath and stepped inside. “Thank you for seeing me without an appointment.”

“Of course. Anyone with manners would bend their schedule to accommodate the needs of another.”

Nice dig, but I’ve received better from my mother. Sage had come with a purpose, and she refused to be sidetracked—Delinda Westerly would get her apology even if Sage had to sit on her while she delivered it. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.”

“We certainly did.”

Sage stepped closer. “I wasn’t having the best day, and my mood might have spilled over into our conversation.”

In cultured, perfect French, Mrs. Westerly said, “Not your fault. You can only behave as you were raised.”

Oh, so that’s how this is going to go? Confident in her own French, Sage responded in kind. “We all do the best we can. I am, however, sorry for any inconvenience I caused.”

Mrs. Westerly’s eyes narrowed. Her next words were in Spanish. “Regretfully, I haven’t had the time to meet your mother.”

Sage seamlessly switched to that language. “A shame. I believe she would have enjoyed the visit.” Then, just because she was tiring of the game, Sage asked in Japanese, “How many languages do you speak? Because I speak four.”

Mrs. Westerly rose to her feet and switched to English once again. “Impressive, but no level of education can replace a poor pedigree.”

“Clearly,” Sage muttered. She’d come. She’d apologized. Some people didn’t want to be happy, and those were the ones she couldn’t help.

“Pardon? If you are tossing insults, at least have the decency to make them audible.”

Tempting as it was to release some steam on this haughty woman a second time, Sage kept her temper in check. She decided to leave while she still felt good about her own contribution to the conversation. “Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Westerly. I’ve said what I came to say. I should not have blown up on the phone as I did, and I regretted it as soon as we hung up.”

Sage was turning to leave when Mrs. Westerly called out her name.

“Miss Revere.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t like you, and I would appreciate it if in the future you would stay away from both me and my family.”

“Okay.” It was a strange warning coming from a woman who had invited her to dinner. It was also an easy request to honor, since Sage was reasonably certain she’d never met another Westerly. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Westerly.”

Mrs. Westerly walked over until she was just a foot or so away. She squared her shoulders as if facing an adversary. “I do not make idle threats, young lady. You may be able to fool some people with that sweet smile, but I know too much about you. Your parents cut you off, so now you make a living swindling people. If I had my way, you’d already be in prison, but trust me, that is something I will remedy if I see you again.”

“You don’t know anything about me or what I do.” Sage leaned forward and said, “I came here because I felt I owed you an apology, and although you are tempting me to tell you what I think of you once again, I will not. You are clearly a very unhappy woman, but I wish nothing but the best for you and your family. I cannot imagine another occasion when our paths would cross.”

Sage didn’t give the older woman a chance to respond. She didn’t see how that would have taken the conversation anywhere better than where it was ending. Michael was beside her in an instant.

“Leaving so soon, Miss Revere?”

“You mean I wasn’t in there for hours?” Sage joked, then felt bad, because he had been nothing but polite to her. “Yes, I have somewhere else I need to be.” Anywhere but with her.