"Middle of the night, and you two aren't sleeping. What kind of circus act is this?"
Once she understood what was happening, she brushed past us and shoved the door open.
Samuel was sprawled across the bed, flushed and tugging desperately at his shirt.
Evelyn turned back and flicked both of us on the forehead.
"You fight every day trying to move up, and now that the chance is here, you're suddenly playing shy?"
She crossed her arms, clearly losing patience as she eyed the two of us as if we were defective merchandise.
"Both of you are very fertile. Whoever goes in tonight is going to get pregnant. Figure it out and get in there."
She was desperate for a great-grandchild, and Samuel spent most of the year on business trips.
Of course, Rhian and I were the leading candidates.
We exchanged a look, but neither of us moved.
We both knew the truth.
If I went, I would die.
If she went, she would die.
So the best solution is to send in the woman he actually loves.
But with eighteen mistresses living here, who on earth knew which one she was?