Page 55 of Tall, Dark & Wicked
“Mother, didn’t you hear me? We arenotperfect for each other. How I tire of you using such a word to describe everything you find suitable.”
“Perhaps you should lay down and rest.” Mother added more milk to her tea and stirred. “You seem to be overly tired from the previous evening’s entertainment.”
“You aren’t listening. I amnotgoing to marry Simon. He has not a shred of affection for me, nor do I have anything remotely resembling passion for him.”
“What do you know of passion?” her mother said. “It’s certainly not required for a successful marriage.” She eyed her discarded piece of toast. “Simon is a brilliant match. He is—”
“Yes, Mother. I am well aware. Simon is brilliant. The match is brilliant. He’s perfect for me. I’ll be a rising political star’s wife. I’ve heard you repeat the litany”—her voice rose in agitation—“until I wish to cover my ears. I spoke to Father before we left London. I was having second thoughts about Simon even then. Father assured me, despite you being enamored of Simon, he would sign no betrothal contract unless I was in agreement. I am to have a choice.”
“I was so hoping it wouldn’t come to this. Your childish tantrum only serves to reinforce the decision I made before we left for Brushbriar.”
Cold fingers of dread caressed the back of Petra’s spine. Mother was far too calm at Petra’s declaration. “What decision would that be?” But Petra knew.
“The betrothal agreement was signed before we departed.” The matter of fact way in which Mother expressed her dominion over Petra’s life left no doubt she was telling the truth. “I explained to your father, dear man that he is, you were merely having a case of cold feet. I know you better than anyone; I’m your mother. You are much too immature to decide something as momentous as your future.”
“How could you?” Petra closed her eyes, unable to look at the woman before her. She’d known Mother to be overbearing and stubborn when she wished to get her way, but this…she’d lied to Petra. And so had Father. The betrayal bore down on her with a terrible sucking feeling.
“This is all for the best, dearest. Your dowry already sits in Simon’s bank account and the papers have gone to our solicitors. You will be married at the beginning of September. Lady Pendleton and I have agreed.”
Petra’s hands automatically clasped in her lap. She was going to faint. “Father promised me.”
“I’m exhausted with your missish behavior, Petra. You will thank me one day for looking out for your future.”
She’d drastically underestimated her mother. “Youliedto me. I never had a choice.”
“You aren’t capable of making good, sound choices, Petra.”
“You’ve never allowed me to makeanychoices, Mother.” Petra stood abruptly, nearly upending the tea tray. “How would you know whether I’m capable or not?”
Agnes, Mother’s lap dog of a lady’s maid, popped into the room. She’d probably been hovering just outside the door. “Is anything the matter, Lady Marsh?”
Petra turned away not willing for Agnes to see her in a near state of tears.
“No, Agnes. Nothing at all. Would you mind going downstairs for a fresh pot of tea? This one has gone tepid.”
“Yes, my lady.” The maid shut the door and scurried away.
“Sit,” her mother commanded. “Stop being dramatic. We’ll have some hot tea and discuss your wedding gown.”
“I’m not sure I can ever forgive you,” Petra choked as she made for the door.
“Darling.” A frustrated puff. “Please sit.” She reached out a hand. “I only want what is best for you. Let us not be at odds during the happiest time of your life.”
Petra looked down at her mother’s plump, bejeweled hand and curled her lip. “No, you want what is best for you, Mother. I don’t care for Simon. And just now, I don’t care for you either.”
Panic, large and dark, was blossoming inside Petra. She had to get out of here. Away.
Ignoring her mother’s gasp of surprise, Petra walked out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind her.
25
Petra wiped furiously at the tears running down her cheeks. Darting down the hall to her own room, she quickly donned her oldest dress and a pair of half boots. She was determined to get as far away from all of them as possible. Simon. Mother. Lady Pendleton.
Her father had promised she was to have achoice.
But an earl’s daughter didn’t get to have choices. She was merely a pawn to her parent’s ambitions. They would have her wed, miserably, rather than allow her to make her own decision about her future. Worse, her own father had lied to her about allowing Petra a choice. Her mother’s treachery was devastating. How was she ever to look at either of her parents again?
Petra set out across the moors, headed in the direction she and Simon had taken for their ride earlier in the week. Small birds flitted through the heather, scattering before her as she strode angrily, crushing the grass beneath her boot heel. She was so bloody furious, so distraught at the turn of events, she paid no attention to her direction. When the rocks she stepped over became larger and eventually turned into boulders, Petra realized she’d gone in the wrong direction.
