Romilda sighed. It really was pointless arguing about Daphne. She just resented the fact that her son was calling out for her and he was getting cuddled by her. She knew it was selfish and unfair on her son, but of all the women Miles could have had in his life - why that snooty cow?
When he got that worried look and he questioned her threateningly, she did snort. "What are you going to do?" she retorted. "I've been lurking. I hear things. What the fuck are you doing getting yourself in deeper with the Lestranges?" The question was blurted out without any censure.
"And I know from the look on your face that you've involved in this damn virus somehow. Dragon Pox, Miles? What were they thinking?"
She looked down at her son, her heart going out to him as she wished fervently to be able to nurse him through this. "Get that cloth and wet his brow again," she snapped. "How can his fever break if you don't at least try to get it down?"
"Well that's to be expected when you get involved with the Lestranges - and now you've put my son in danger."
"People are sick and dying, Miles - have you thought for one minute just what you've been involved with. I mean, Millicent is sicker than your precious Daphne was - she's lost the baby and all - and now you dare to sound petulant as you claim you did all you could to protect him!" Her eyes flared with a glow of hidden fire. If she were alive, no doubt something would have caught fire from her fury at this... fool.