Page 15 of Princess of Pride
“She’s right outside the door,” Candace replies.
She can’t see me from inside the room with Mom, but the housekeeper has a sixth sense for my whereabouts.
Mom opens the large double doors in a grand fashion. “Chewy, I waited for you after the meeting. Why did you take off?”
“I didn’t see you.” No one was outside the office.
“I was across the hall.” Meaning at the bar in Dad’s billiard room. She should quit with the illusion she’s not an alcoholic and put a bar in here. Half the time her book club members have more mimosas than tea anyway.
This room has always been my favorite. The pink and yellow floral English tea décor is how I imagine my bookstore.
People could come for the traditional afternoon tea experience, the romance books, or both. They could even come in costume if they want. I’d go to a place like that in a heartbeat. A smile forms on my lips at the thought.
“Thinking about the dashing Lachlan?” Mom asks.
I blink the vision away. “No.”
Her brows tighten like my answer makes zero sense. “Join me.” She waves for me to follow her into the room, her blush summer dress flowing as she walks. She glances around then snaps her fingers at Candace, who’s making sure Mom’s precious books are dust free. “See what’s taking Zelda so long.”
“Right away.” Candace hurries from the room.
A moment later, Zelda walks in, carrying a tray with twoflutes of champagne. She presents one to Mom and then to me, which we both take.
“Thank you,” Mom says and raises her champagne to me as the housekeeper leaves. “To a noble future.” She clinks my glass and sips the bubbly drink.
I just stand there, flute in hand, watching her enjoy herself. “Lachlan and I are living in America.” Per the section in the contract that stated so. “He’s not noble here. Therefore, I won’t be noble.”
“But we can announce you that way at parties and to the press. Lord and Lady Ashford.”
I roll my eyes and drink some champagne, deciding I’m going to need it, even if I do remember a section in the documents we signed today about him being related to several Scottish earls from centuries long ago.
“How should we dress you for the engagement party?”
In one week. I remember that part of the contract too. It’ll be a small party in the seaside backyard of my parents’ Nantucket home. Even though I enjoy visiting the house and taking in the salty air, I have zero excitement toward any of this. As if it’s not my life. As if it’s happening to someone else.
“That frown does nothing for you, Emery.” Mom plucks the champagne from my hand and downs it.
I gape, even though I shouldn’t be shocked. “Please, have it,” I say with sarcasm.
“You weren’t going to drink it.” She sets both glasses on the nearby table, fluffs her strawberry blonde hair, and falls dramatically onto the settee. “Pippa was happier than you are, and she married a commoner.”
Hunt’s billionaire family is far from being commoners. “Pippa’s fiancé at least eyed her like he was interested. Mine acts like I don’t exist.” Around other people anyway. But he did notice I shivered in the meeting today.
“We’ll go shopping this weekend for your wedding and reception gowns. I already had Gillian close the boutique on Sunday. Pippa will be there.”
“She will?” I perk up for the first time since this morning.
It’s funny how Pippa, who I used to despise, is now a positive for me. Maybe it’s my nephew swimming around in her uterus giving her good energy and changing her personality from bitch to benevolent.
“Of course.” Mom leans forward to fetch her flute of champagne. She finishes it and sets it next to the other empty glass. “Being your maid of honor and pregnant, she needs to choose a dress and color that’s flattering for her body and complexion. She said you wouldn’t mind.”
Maybe she’s not as benevolent. Maybe her sudden kindness was a side effect from the first trimester, and it’s gone.
“Sit.” Mom gestures to the spot beside her.
I lower onto the settee across from Mom where a vase of fresh hydrangeas from the garden blocks her from my view. The floral scent draws my gaze to the yard terrace beyond a row of French doors. The pool house isn’t visible from this room. I can only see one half of the sparkling pool and the white-cushioned recliners on the patio, although it’s all a good distance away.
Has Lachlan returned there, or is he still with my father? I can’t believe he signed over my trust like I asked him to.
