She wore far too much makeup; it cracked and creased and that scarlet lipstick did nothing for her tea-stained teeth. Edith Marcoux was an eccentric noblewoman, as described by her equally outlandish son and reminded Viola of Blanche Vanderbilt without the wealth that condoned her peculiarities.
James and Viola were invited inside the antiquated farmhouse and were presented with a plate of cookies and a silver teapot. It was recently boiled. A mere ten minutes into their acquaintance and the Lady Marcoux already pressed the Ambassador about children, possible intentions towards her son and whether she was an ambitious wretch who intended to exploit their family business. She had a wide, loud mouth — only pleasant when sewn shut.
Despite her capriciousness, she thought the haughty woman warm and mirthful as a mother should be. Viola and James both shared mutual glances and discreet exchanges in her presence and she hoped that his mother would not intrude upon the hour her second son, her insignificant child would pass into Grenth’s clutches.
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