Page 72 of Wicked Salvation
I take a deep breath.
Even though my mother sent me to aschool, apparently getting married matters more than my education. Here I am in London, on a Saturday morning, when I should be studying for my upcoming end-of-term exams, to prepare for my engagement party.
Afterwards, I’m expected to return to school by Sunday evening.
Just lovely.
Though the house is bustling with activity, I’ve yet to encounter a member of my family. The boys usually have polo practice on Saturday mornings, and it seems like my father may have accompanied them.
The closer we get to the east wing, the more my heart rate picks up. When we get to the hallway that leads to the rooms, Miss Durell spins on her heels. She’s a slight woman, shorter than me, with ash-colored hair swept into a severe bun. She smiles, the skin by her eyes crinkling.
“The Viscountess awaits you in the Lavender Room.”
Then she disappears.
The Lavender Room—so named because of the color scheme and because of a past Viscountess Lockhart’s love of the plant—is one of the coveted guest rooms at the estate. The only people who have stayed in this room are my father’s parents, other royalty and heads of state, including a few Prime Ministers.
But it’s notmyroom.
I can’t help but be skeptical of my mother. She’s given me one of the best rooms for my brief stay here, but has turned the room that was once mine into another one of her closets. I want to ask her why, if it means she’s already moved me out of the house in her mind.
Yet I stay quiet as I hear a familiar gate.
Click. Click. Click.
Her heels echo against the well-polished floor in a perfect rhythm. She turns the corner and the moment her eyes land on me, shesmiles.
That’s new.
As usual her makeup is light and impeccable, hair is styled elegantly. No flyaways, the plaits wrapped into her bun perfectlysymmetrical. She wears a flowy Max Mara dress and her only piece of jewelry today is her emerald and diamond wedding set.
“Darling!” she chirps, arms open as she floats over to me. “You’re finally home.”
Before I can even process what’s happening, she’s wrapped around me. She kisses my cheek and smooths my hair. I’m so shocked I barely feel the sting of the bruises when she touches me. All I can think of is all the times I wanted this as a little girl.
A hug.
A kiss.
Her love.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispers, lingering in the hug.
When she pulls back to look at me, hands still gripping my arms like she’s afraid I’ll vanish, I see something close to admiration in her watercolor eyes. They shine like she’s proud of me, like I’m a frog turned princess.
I guess that’s what I am after all.
I only became valuable to her after finding my Prince, well,DukeCharming.
“You look divine, my love.”
A smile finds my face. I hope it looks genuine.
Miss Durell leads the footmen to the Lavender Room, while my mother hooks her hand in mine and starts leading me elsewhere in the house. She peppers the walk with casual conversation about my flight over, how my studies have been. Everything she’s never asked me before.
We end up in one of the drawing rooms.
Tea waits on the table in bone china—the delicate centuries old set that we only use for esteemed guests. She pours me a cup without asking if I want any. Two cubes of sugar, just how I like it—I didn’t know she knew that.
