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She pulled away enough to give me a concerned look.
But before she could say anything, a man in a suit approached and said, “Lady Hastings, your mother has sent me to fetch you.”
Every bouncy little bit of joy Jessa had slid out of her and onto the gravel. “Oh, I see. Thank you.”
The man didn’t move at the dismissal, just stood there watching, looking bored and mildly judgmental.
Under his scrutiny, we separated, and I was robbed of a goodbye kiss and a solid night of messing around.
“Well, goodnight, Remy,” she said all politely.
“Night, Duchess.”
Her cheeks flushed a little, and she smiled before following the stiff to the Bentley.
And just like that, she was gone.
31
do it again
JESSA
The very last thing I wanted to do was walk into my mother’s house. Well, the house where she was staying, which was just as bad because she was here and Remy was not.
“Hello, darling,” she said as she stepped into the entryway to meet me.
“Hello, Mother.”
“You’re late for dinner.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. The game ran late.”
“And how was it?”
One of my brows arched. “You really want to know?”
“Of course,” she lied.
I sighed. “We won.”
“Oh, lovely. There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry. Would you care to watch the telly with me?” She leaned in, smiling.
But all I had for her was a halfhearted smile. “No, thank you. I think I’ll eat a bit and clean up for bed.”
She looked so disappointed, I nearly felt bad. Until I remembered she’d summoned me with a driver and ended my night earlier than I’d hoped.
“All right, dearest. Rest well.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
Into the kitchen I went, leaving her in the entry, trying not to feel guilty. But I was sour. And I wasn’t over it well enough to watch guilty pleasures with her.
A plate of dinner sat in the fridge, but it was so terribly formal—squab for God’s sake. So I scrounged up a sandwich instead and trudged upstairs, nibbling on it and pouting. I pouted as I undressed, pouted as I showered, pouted as I toweled off.
And all the while, resentment flickered underneath.
My mother’s arrival had brought with it the reminder that my freedom had always been conditional. As long as I remained inside the boundaries set up for me, I could do as I pleased. It was an illusion, a gilded cage. I didn’t think of it in my normal life, never needing to breach the bounds.
