Page 136 of Duchess Material

“No, baby, it’s fine. God, we have two fucked up Dads. What more could I say?” She was fighting tears. She turned back to the three and said, “Be grateful all of your parents are normal.”

“That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard about our parents, but I get your meaning, Luce,” George said.

“You can’t help your parents, sweetie,” Patrick said. “Really. And none of us would hold it against you.”

“I was surprised my grandmother didn’t lose it on me for having a civil ceremony, honestly!”

“She never would,” Winston said. “Darling, she loves you. She may be a bit tough but she’s protective of you. No one was upset with you but your father. Just like no one on my side is upset but my idiot sperm donor father.”

“Oh, that’s offensive to sperm donors, Winston,” George tried to crack a joke that would land. “But, Lord knows, I understand. You’ve met his dad now, Lucy?”

Lucy nodded. “And ended up crying… a lot.”

“He was in fine form, Georgie.”

“Your Dad is an asshole?” Patrick asked.

“The worst. Gerry won’t even speak to him. We just look to Bruno and ignore Richard altogether. He’s a cheating, abusive piece of shit. I regret sharing half my genetic code with him. I only wish I could unsee him treating my mother like a ragdoll and bringing home strange women. He’s not just an asshole. He’s a monster.”

Winston realised he’d brought the room down. “Sorry, everyone.”

“Don’t apologise,” Paul said. “He’s a wanker. Even Mummy would say so. That’s saying something.”

Lucy snickered.

Winston was glad to let the conversation filter over to stupid Americanisms. He was embarrassed to admit to witnessing the abuse his father inflicted on his mother. Winston liked to live in a world where it had never happened—a world where his father had not once tossed his mother down a flight of stairs. He wasn’t sure she knew he saw it happen. Winston was maybe four or five. Gerry was still a baby. Winston realised he was relieved his father had no say in what he hoped would be a happy, lifelong relationship with Lucy. She was his forever, and he would never let anyone hurt her like that. That included even her shit father. He was committed to keeping her safe.

24

THE WEDDING PARTY

Lucy felt her lunch about to leave her stomach as the plane lurched in turbulence. She grabbed onto the seat and tried to control the urge to vomit. It had been a rough morning. Lucy was not in the mood for turbulence. As expected, Natalie didn’t even flinch. Lucy saw her yawning. God, how could anyone ignore the feeling that the plane was falling out of the sky?

Natalie furrowed her brow. “Lucy, you look sick.”

“I really don’t feel well. When will we be there? And will there be more bumps?”

“We’ve got weather. I can’t do anything about that, Lucy. I am doing the best I can. And we’ll be there in about a—”

Natalie didn’t even get to finish her thought. Lucy raced out of the cockpit and vomited into an ice bucket.

“God, go lie down, darling!”

Lucy took her advice, flopping into a chair in the back of the plane next to the most attractive PPO on the trip. The girls were headed back from a trade summit in Italy. It was not a short trip compared to most of their jaunts, which Natalie relished. She’d also been stellar at work and was headed to Scotland to see Ed. Lucy, meanwhile, just wanted to die.

“You alright, Lady Ferguson?” the PPO asked.

It took Lucy a moment to understand. “Lady Ferguson” still caught her off guard.

They hit more turbulence. “Uh… I’m fine. Just mind the bucket. The bucket… it’s got puke in it. Sick. I couldn’t find a bag.”

“I can get you one, ma’am,” he looked disturbed by the ice bucket atrocity she created.

He dutifully brough her a bag in time for the plane to feel like it was falling out of the sky once more. Lucy completely lost it at that point.

“I’ll get you a stack,” the PPO hopped up as soon as he sat.

“Don’t kill us, Natalie!” Lucy grumbled mostly to herself before ratcheting her seatbelt tighter.

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