“Marm,” she said, poking her head into my office around the noon hour, “your mother’s on the first line for you. She told me not to put her on hold forever like I tried to do last time. I think she’s getting wise to us.”
“So she is, Tina,” I sighed, trying to muster up a smile to reassure her that all was well. “I’ll take the call in just a second.”
Once the door was closed and I was bathed once again in the relative dark of my office I pressed the blinking button on my desk phone and put my mother on speaker phone.
“Good afternoon, Mother. What can I do for you?”
“Gwendolyn! Dearest, how are you?” my mother asked, her voice too chipper to be anything but suspicious. “I’ve missed the sound of your voice.”
She wanted something. I could tell just from the break in her voice as she tried to give some indication that she gave a damn about anything, especially how I was doing.
“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked again, my tone much more forceful this time.
“What in the world makes you think I want anything, dear?” she asked, doing her best to sound offended. “I just wanted to know how you were doing, and perhaps why you happened to be emblazoned across the gossip section of this tabloid across my table?”
I frowned, a pit forming in the bottom of my stomach. What had they seen? Were there pictures of Tristan and I in bed together? My heart started to race at the possibilities of how all of this could go wrong. By the time this whole ordeal with my stepbrother was over, I’d need to be on at least two different anxiety medications.
“I’m sure I haven’t a clue what you mean, Mother,” I said, trying to sound as innocent as I could.
“Well, right here it says ‘Matchmaker Stepsister Making a Match for Playboy Stepbrother,’_” she read aloud, still trying to feign confusion. “Is that true, dear? Are you trying to set up our Tristan with a woman?”
“He came to me to find himself a more stable relationship, yes,” I admitted, though I didn’t like the way my mother was prying. She never took an interest in who I did business with, let alone what Tristan got up to in his spare time. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I was just wondering how wise that would be,” she said. “Tristan isn’t really a man for stability, now, is he? I wouldn’t have thought you would have taken on such a hopeless cause.”
“Tristan seems very set on settling down, Mother. He wants to stop being seen as the brash party boy that he was for all these years. I’m rather proud of him,” I said, a defensive tone to my voice as I sat forward in my chair. Who was she to tell me whether or not one of my clients was worth my time or not, regardless of whether they were Tristan or the Queen herself.
“But where will that get him?” she asked, doing her best to sound as unassuming as possible and failing miserably. The more she talked the more I was convinced that her motives were far from pure. Tristan had mentioned the argument he’d had with his father a few days before, about how he’d known that Tristan and Patricia had been out having dinner with one another. Was this another one of his attempts to gather intelligence? “He’s not the kind of man who’s suited for married life—certainly not for a life of duty and service to his country.”
I felt myself tense in anger as I listened to my mother go on. This wasn’t just some time to gossip about my goings on, she was trying to convince me to give up on my case with Tristan. She wanted to be the mother of a duke, the child of noble birth that she’d always craved since before I was ever born. I never got her what she’d wanted, and now she had her chance and wasn’t about to give it up.
“And who would be a better heir, mother? Your fetus?”
For a moment the line was silent as my mother realized that she’d been found out. She never reacted well to her manipulations being called out into the light, and any moment I was expecting the kinds of verbal attacks I’d always gotten when I was a girl.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” she sneered. “Even an unborn child could hold your stepfather’s position with more grace and dignity than Tristan ever could.”
I felt the heat rising in my face as I sat there in silence, my muscles twitching. I only wished my mother had had the courage to come here herself so I might have the chance to slap her across her smug face. I hated her with every fiber of my being, and if she intended to stand in my way then I was going to make sure that she regretted it.
“I’m afraid I don’t agree, Mother,” I said, my tone icy. “Over these last few days Tristan has shown me that his time in the Army has changed him for the better. He’s become a dedicated man who has learned to put his duty over his own desires and I’m proud to say that I will continue to help him in the foreseeable future. Your fetus be damned.”
“You’re going to regret this, Gwendolyn,” she said in a low hiss. “If you throw your hat in with that bastard then you’ll share his fate. We’ll cut you off from this family just like your bastard stepbrother and forget all about you like the garbage you are.”
“At least we know where we stand,” I said adamantly. “Perhaps I’ll see you at Tristan’s wedding, mother. It should be quite the affair.”
“I should have had you torn out of me when I had the chance, you horrible little bitch—”
I ended the call, my breath coming out in hard bursts. I almost expected to see steam rising from my nostrils. I made a promise to myself right then and there that I would do everything in my power to have Tristan married and make sure that child never saw their privileged ass in that seat.
I opened up my computer and found Denise’s number. My stepbrother had better be on his damned best behavior this time.
Chapter 14
I sat idly in the dining room of Desrosiers, waiting for my date to arrive.
I’d seen the pictures, read over the notes that Gwen had taken on the things that I should bring up over the course of dinner, but the more I thought about it the more nervous I became. It wasn’t so much whether or not I would like the woman—I couldn’t have cared one way or another at this point—but I honestly worried whether the more I dated the more of a wedge would be driven between my stepsister and I.
I had slowly been coming to terms with the fact that whatever the two of us had together would never actually work out—despite how much I knew we wanted one another, the fallout of our relationship would cause too much of a uproar for either of us to live quietly ever after. It had to be this way, whether I liked it or not.
I noticed her out of the corner of my eye at first, a gorgeously graceful woman gliding toward me in a glimmering silk dress. She almost floated across the floor as she walked, and if I hadn’t
seen her feet, I’d have sworn they were at least an inch off the ground. She was a stunning woman by any standard, and I couldn't deny that I was enraptured as she took her seat, the waiter pulling out from behind her before she arrived and pushing it before departing.
“Tristan, I presume?” she said, a coy grin spreading across her face as she set her small clutch in her lap. “I’ve been told a great deal about you—not all of which from your sister.”
“All good, I hope,” I said, smirking as I took a sip from my wine glass.
“Hardly,” she said, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You have a reputation for being a bit of a…”
“Playboy?” I prompted, hoping to draw some kind of reaction out of her other than that disgusted look on her face. This wasn’t off to a good start, and I didn’t like the odds of it getting any better.