Page 6 of Princess of Pride
Mom squeezes my hand. “I’d hoped to offer you and Pippa the fairy tale romance I never had, but it seems the best I can do is an attractive man, and a bit of nobility in your case.”
Poor Mom. A while ago, I discovered her love of romance novels came from the lack of it in her marriage, but not until she rambled out the truth after two bottles of wine one night.
She was on the couch in her favorite reading room with abook on her lap and tears in her eyes. I sat next to her and took her hand, the way I always did when I found her this way.
Only this time, she said, “Your father and I were in love once.” Her words were sloppy, but I understood them clearly. “For four years, I was the only woman for him—untilshecame along. She didn’t even have money, but she was young and beautiful and able to do what I couldn’t. I wanted to hate her for it, but I accepted it as was my duty. I even found comfort in another man’s arms. I thought once she was gone, your dad and I would return to how we’d been when we first married. Instead, he took another lover, so I did too. I found happiness when and where I could. It’s the only way to survive.”
She never confessed anything like that again. It breaks my heart that she still wants Dad’s affection, even knowing she’ll never get it. That’s why I have to be smart. Careful. Guarded.
“What if he’s not interested?” What if I’m not enough to get him to close the deal? What will Dad do then?
“Darling.” Mom turns me to face her and cups my cheeks. “There is nothing not to like. You have the beauty, the wealth, and the name. It’s a win for Lachlan.”
“Shouldn’t he be marrying nobility?”
“He wants an American wife, who am I to argue?” She lifts her shoulder. “This is a good match. He’s well-mannered and polite. I’ve never seen him raise his voice. The women he’s brought as dates can’t take their eyes off him, which means he’s good in bed.”
I cringe. “Ew! I don’t want to hear this from you.”
“It’s important, Emery. You’ll find out soon enough.”
All my life my parents have sworn me to celibacy, and now they want me ready to act.
“Up, up, up.” Mom stands and takes me with her. “Let me make sure everything is in place.” She combs her hands over my silky pin straight hair to the long ends then squints at my chest. “Why are your nipples showing through your dress? Are you not wearing a bra? You know better than to do that. The Spencer women show cleavage.Classycleavage, but nothing more.”
“I can’t fit a bra with this dress. It won’t zip.” The silky material has little give.
While my boobs are a DD cup, my ruler figure is a size small. If I had curvy hips and stood at five-eight—those three inches my sister and Mom have over me make a big difference—I could wear anything and look amazing. Instead, I have to work with this. Shopping is a nightmare. Small bottom, large top. They don’t make dresses like that, so I squeeze my boobs into small sizes.
“Emery, I chose this dress to show off your chest. The green moss color is perfect against your caramel skin and the slit adds a bit of sexiness without being trashy. You should be proud of your figure. Except for these.” She gestures at my beaded nipples. “The least you could have done is wore nipple covers.”
She knows I hate them. They irritate my skin and give me a rash.
“That’s why I brought a sweater.” I take it from the chair behind me. I’ll feel better if my chest is covered up.
Mom yanks it from my hand. “You are not covering your best assets. Now, stop being a baby. Adjust your boobs so they sit right and go show Lachlan what you have to offer.”
When Mom gets like this, there’s no arguing with her. I take her mimosa and gulp a huge sip. The sweet drink scorches my throat. I cough and set down the flute before I spill it. “What’s in that?”
“A little vodka.” Mom rolls her eyes.
“A little? If I had a match, I could breathe fire.”
“Oh, stop.” Mom waves my words away then fixes my hair again. “Are you ready to do what you must andmake us noble?”
“I guess.” I shrug. What choice do I have?
She sighs with disappointment. “Your father gave you more time to be single than he did Pippa. If you don’t make it work with Lachlan, he will either choose someone else or disown you. If you choose the latter, he’ll ensure no one hires you, not even a small diner in a no-name town. He’ll make it his business to ruin you so you come crawling back home. Then he’ll marry you off to someone else. He may not be as attractive or as well-mannered as Lachlan. He may be like Hunt.”
I shiver. My brother-in-law isn’t ugly on the outside, but he’s disgusting on the inside—an ego-centric narcissist who made Pippa feel special only to break her heart.
Dad sprung him on Pippa at a dinner party when she was nineteen, had them engaged within two weeks and married three months later.
“Do you understand why making this work is important?” Mom asks in a gentle tone. Her words aren’t slurring yet.
I nod in understanding, my throat too tight to push out a single word. This is it. The day I dreaded. The day that will change my life forever. It is within my control to make or break it. I know what I have to do.
“Good girl. I’ll be at the bar if you need me.” Mom strolls away.
