In an attempt to dispel the terrible vision, I blinked several times, hoping the woman would either change into someone else, or disappear altogether. The thick copper hair and finely sculpted face remained unaltered, and I was left with the unpalatable truth that Justine Rose had indeed stepped from between the walls into Cate’s private chamber.No one spoke. Cate stared motionless at the impertinent slut who had just referred to her as mother. Tom stood beside her with an expression of pure consternation, and no wonder, being called father by a young lady near his own age. Looking between the three of them, I felt transported back to the theater where I was the sole spectator on a makeshift stage. The silence persisted, and the scene took on a farcical element as they each awaited the next line. My skin itched with awkward embarrassment—for myself, for Miss Rose, for Cate and Mr. Fabre.The actress removed her cloak, oblivious to my presence as she tossed it on a nearby table. “Well, this is a fine welcome,”
