The Pretend Fiancé (19 page)

"Oh, yes," he said, tugging at his suddenly uncomfortable bow tie, "She did mention a guest." He ran his fingertip down a list of names in front of him, stopping a little over halfway down the page. "You are Gwendolyn Browning, yes?"

"Yes," Gwen said.

"This way, please," he said, coming out from behind his desk and motioning her to follow him. They went deeper into the manor, going through another set of ornate doors. Old painted portraits hung on the wall in gilded frames. Men in long wigs standing around. Men in long wigs riding horses. Women holding children and sitting in gardens, that sort of thing.

Soon, Gwen heard the sound of muted conversation, and sharp noises that could only be delicate bone china tea cups being set down or picked up from their saucers. Strains of classical music lilted out as well. Probably another quartet, Gwen thought. Recorded music was probably too bourgeois or something.

Another man in a tux, this one with his dark hair slicked in a side part, greeted them at the entrance to the tea room.

Beyond him, Gwen got a glimpse of this latest trap. Lots of women in dresses, most of them with those long white gloves. They ate finger sandwiches from tall platters, or sipped at their tea.

"Miss Gwendolyn Browning, here to join Madam Judith Manning for tea," the maitre d' said. Both he and the door man gave Gwen another disapproving look.

"This way, please," the door man said.

Gwen followed him into the lion's den. Almost as soon as Gwen crossed the threshold she felt the eyes begin clinging to her. Silence passed in her wake, followed by whispers. There had to be almost a hundred women in the room.

Even a few of the waiters, bringing fresh pots of tea or fresh trays of dainties, paused in their tasks.

The hair on the back of Gwen's neck bristled. She didn't belong here. That sentiment exuded from every surface around her.

And she knew it was right. She knew that she didn't belong there. Not like that, at least. Not dressed in comfy street clothes, having done the bare minimum to her hair to come outside that day.

However, she knew that was how Judith wanted it. She could see the purpose of all this. Judith wanted to ostracize her, to show her just how much she didn't belong in this sphere of society.

But the thing was, had the circumstances been different. Gwen probably would have enjoyed this. She would have loved sorting through her dresses to find just the right thing, loved going through Google Image Search to find the best way to do her hair up. And those long white gloves just looked plain fun.

"Gwendolyn Browning," the footman announced, drawing up to Judith's table.

Judith sat there, of course, flanked by three other women Gwen didn't recognize. Judith's eyes practically glittered with delight when she beheld Gwen, while the other ladies traded looks of disapproval and confusion.

"Gwen, lovely of you to join us. Have a seat, why don't you?" Judith said.

Rather than pulling out her chair, Gwen waited for the footman to do so for her. She thanked him as he seated her.

Judith didn't say anything, clearly having expected her to pull the chair out herself.
Point me
, Gwen thought.
I can do this!

She tried to remember all the Jane Austen novels she'd read, particularly the way people behaved. It was all about manners and class, wasn't it? Well, despite what Judith might assume, Gwen had both.

Though she did wish that Aiden were there, sitting next to her. Not just because he could help her with all this, but because she missed him. Beneath the table, she ran her fingertip over the diamonds of her ring, thankful of its presence on her hand.

"Ladies, Gwendolyn is my grandson's prospective fiancé. You'll have to forgive her; she hasn't yet grown accustomed to this lifestyle."

"Yes," Gwen said, "Nice to meet you all. I am sorry for being so underdressed, but my invitation arrived with such short notice that I had no time to prepare. And I didn't want to disappoint my soon-to-be grandmother by not making an appearance. I do hope you'll forgive me."

"Forgiven but not forgotten," Judith said. The ladies at her sides smiled. "Allow me to introduce Cordelia Astor, Dame Eleanor Smythe, and Claudia von Hildebrand."

Dame?
Gwen thought,
isn't that, like, the female version of a knighthood or something?
Gwen smiled, trying to buy some time. The way Judith said their names had the gravitas of aristocracy behind it. How were you supposed to talk to people like that?

"Pleased to meet you all," Gwen said, again feeling out of her depth. They smiled at her with ingrained politeness, but Gwen knew that she'd missed the mark somehow.
Point Judith
, she thought.

Apparently it also fell to her as the newcomer to dictate the direction of conversation. All the ladies watched her expectantly as they took sips from their tea. Tea which smelled delicious and inviting. Gwen bought herself some time by pouring herself a cupful from the pot sitting in the center of the table.

She sipped at it, the bone china handle smooth and cool against her fingers. It was a black tea with a hint of something else. Jasmine, maybe.

She set her cup down as gently as she could, aware that time had just about run out.

What sort of thing do these people talk about?
Gwen wondered, glancing at their polite smiles.
Themselves, of course!

She turned her attention to the woman introduced as Cordelia Astor. She was a stately thing, with a Roman nose and a pair of cheekbones to match.

"So are you related to the New York Astors?" Gwen asked.

"Yes, cousins of mine," Cordelia responded in her high class English accent that out-poshed even Ben's practiced tones.

"I went to a party they hosted, once. It's actually the first place I met Aiden," Gwen said.

"Oh, such garish displays, aren't they? So you are from New York, then?"

Judith got that glint in her eye again, "Yes, she is."

"That's wonderful!" Cordelia said, "Where? Does your family keep a summer home in the Hamptons? Perhaps I've already met them."

Another trap
, Gwen realized. "No, not the Hamptons. Or New York City. I live in the city now, but my family and I are from Albany."

"Oh," Eleanor Smythe said, "Are you by chance a branch of the Brownings who own the firearms company?"

"No relation."

The society women lapsed into polite, if judgmental silence, sipping from their tea or considering another cucumber sandwich.

Point Judith
, Gwen thought.
What was the score now?
She couldn't remember.

"Gwen's family history is, shall we say, unremarkable," Judith said, "Although I believe that she is trying to change that. Marrying my grandson does come with more than its fair share of advantages, does it not?" That garnered another round of judgmental glances.
Point Judith.

There it was. The gold digger thing again. Gwen shrank back against her chair. She wanted to leave. Wanted away from those eyes.

And that was exactly what Judith wanted her to feel, she knew. She could see it in the way the old woman smiled as she dumped a lump of sugar into her tea and stirred slowly.

It was a look that said, "See? You don't belong with these people. You don't fit in with them. Go on, give up and run away like I know you will."

"Yes, I must say I was rather surprised when I learned that my Aiden had been courting her. She doesn't seem his type at all. Gwen, I believe you are between semesters at college, are you not?"

"Well, it is summer break..." Gwen said.

"Of course it is. And after you return and have finished school, have you given any thought as to how you want to direct your life?" Judith said.

Four sets of eyes watched her, waiting for the answer. Gwen sat up straighter. "Well, with my degree, I could get a job at a museum, or maybe with an NGO?"

"Is that a question or a statement?" Judith asked.

"I've also thought about going to grad school afterward. I'd be the first person in my family with a Master's degree, and that would be cool..." Again, the wrong choice of words.

Point Judith...
Gwen started. Then she recanted. So far, she'd done everything on Judith's terms, played the game according to Judith's rules. Judith wanted to point out what a mismatch she thought Gwen and Aiden were, their differences and their divergences.

That being the case, Gwen had some of her own observations to bring to bear.

"Aiden and his father before him as well as my own husband all attended Harvard and graduated with highest honors," Judith began.

"So I've heard," Gwen said, "But do you know what I haven't heard much about from your precious Aiden? You, Judith. Did you know he never mentioned you once until you showed up at the hotel a few days ago? And before that, in all the conversations I had with Henry, he never mentioned anything about you, either. I wonder why that is?"

"You'll have to forgive dear Gwendolyn, I'm afraid. Her parents never bothered to instill any manners into her. Actually, I believe they are on course for a divorce in the near future. It really is a sad story of a broken family..."

Gwen clapped her hands together, the sharp noise stopping all conversation in the room. "It's true, they are getting a divorce. But I'm getting to that. I think Aiden never mentioned you because he's embarrassed of you and what you represent. You're all about tradition and propriety and all that, but that just makes you closed-minded. Henry built Carbide Solutions from the ground up, Aiden is working to make it a the sort of company it deserves to be. Neither of them wanted anything from you, and I think you hate that. I think you can't stand it. Maybe if you got down off your high horse you'd see that Aiden and I are happy together and that you're trying to destroy a beautiful relationship out of spite and bitterness."

Gwen fueled her monologue on a single breath, and when she finished she gulped for air. Her hands gripped the edge of the table, and an awful hot-cold mix of dread and anger sloshed around in the pit of her stomach.

The whole time, Judith's angular face became redder and redder, her lips trying to press themselves out of existence until they became just a pencil line below her nose. Cordelia Astor hid her expression by slurping down her tea, and Claudia von Longlastname gaped at her.

For a few seconds, Gwen thought that Judith's head might actually pop off her neck. Or maybe spontaneously combust. She didn't.

Instead, she worked her lips until they assumed something that approached a smile, but reminded Gwen more of a shark-toothed grimace. The coloring in her face receded slowly down her neck until she looked just as pale and statuesque as before.

"I am not the one trying to ruin Aiden's happiness. I believe you're doing a fine job of that by yourself," Judith said, her voice barely a whisper so that Gwen had to strain to hear it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gwen said.

"I believe you're familiar with a certain English reporter named Ben Somersby?" The forced smile on Judith's lips turned into one of satisfied cruelty.

Gwen's heart stopped. A cold, wet blanket wrapped itself around her insides.
Judith knows.

"That was a mistake," Gwen said, her voice small.

"We all have to pay for our mistakes, don't we?"

The room froze. Time itself halted, leaving Gwen and Judith glaring at each other across the gulf of the table.

"I'm still right about you," Gwen said, "You're miserable. And you're only doing this because you can. Aiden and I are getting through this, and we're getting married. No matter what you have to say about it."

Judith lurched up from her chair and leaned over the table. "You are not marrying my grandson! Now get out!"

Pressure built behind Gwen's eyes. She knew that she'd screwed up here. Screwed up badly. Probably worse than she ever had before. And now, like Judith said, she had to pay the price for her mistakes.

Except the price for this was Aiden, and she could never give him up.

But she refused to let Judith make her cry. She refused to get up and run out of there like some scared little girl.

A memory came to here, then. A recollection of defiance. It was the first time she'd met Henry. She and Aiden sat with him over a meal he never intended them to eat while, like Judith, Henry accused her of only being in this for the money.

Aiden had taken a bite of that cold steak in front of him and then took her away from there, dignity intact.

So, rallying the vestiges of her tattered courage, Gwen picked up her teacup and drained the contents in a single swallow. Then she patted at her lips with her napkin, and stood without making the chair legs squeak against the floor.

"Thank you for inviting me to tea, Judith. It was lovely meeting you, ladies."

Then she turned her back on Judith's glare and walked from the room, keeping her back stiff and concentrating on putting one foot down in front of the other.

Everyone watched her go, the space completely devoid of all noise except for her steps.

She kept her facade of confidence up until she left the manor and managed to hail a cab. She gave the driver the name of the hotel, and then buried her face in her hands, her body wracked by sobs as the car pulled away from that awful place.

She knows about Ben,
Gwen thought,
and she's going to tell Aiden.

***

J
udith sat back down, letting her anger dissipate as she did. It was the signal for tea to resume, everyone at the separate tables turning back to the conversations. Right away, a footman swept in to clear Gwen's setting away.

"Are you all right, dear?" Cordelia Astor said.

"Yes, I am, thank you," Judith replied. She picked up her napkin and dabbed lightly at her mouth with it. All those harsh words chapped the lips so easily.

"What a dreadful little girl," Claudia von Hildebrand said.

"Indeed," Judith replied, replenishing her tea from the pot. The dark liquid steamed as it streamed from the spout. It wasn't even as good as the stuff as they had back at the hotel, but it would have to do for now.