Page 14 of Cruel Dynasty

“You might have warned me,” I grumbled as I tossed my clutch on the bed. The pale pink Valentino held little more than my mobile and a few credit cards, but it perfectly matched the sandals I’d chosen right down to the golden studs. I’d been clutching it so hard that they’d left tiny imprints on my palm.

“I was only informed this morning that your father, excuse me, Mr. Belmond and Lord Byrd had made a decision regarding the date,” he said in a clipped tone, following me into the bedroom.

“I want to talk to him as soon as I change out of these sodding shoes.” I yanked one sandal off and threw it towards the closet. It hit the wall and slid to the ground.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Belmond has been called to business in the city,” Giles explained.

I finally looked up at him, zeroing in on the twist of his lips. He knew he was the messenger and that I wanted blood, and judging from his pained expression he didn’t blame me. “Of course. How convenient.”

“Indeed,” Giles agreed. He cleared his throat, continuing on more tentatively than normal, “There is a more pressing matter.”

“More pressing than me actually getting married as Kerrigan in three months?” I asked.

“For now, yes.” He tilted his head slowly as if afraid that one wrong move might detonate me. “You have guests.”

7

Giles had briefed me on the way down, but I didn’t feel prepared as I stepped foot into the drawing room to greet Kerrigan's guest. I’d managed to get away with small talk when cornered by her old school friends at parties, but this was entirely different. Beatrice Highclere wasn’t simply a schoolmate of Kerrigan, the two had been roommates at Woldingham and gotten into all sorts of trouble, according to Giles. The only saving grace—and the hope I clung to like a life preserver—was that there had been a falling out before university and the two hadn’t spoken for years. He hadn’t prepared me for how comfortable she seemed around Spencer, whom she was talking animatedly with on the couch.

The two barely looked up as I entered the room. Beatrice laughed, her hand extending to brush Spencer’s arm lightly. His answering grin made my stomach sink. They knew each other well. It was obvious, and it made me feel nauseous. A cold chill crept over my body as I considered what I did know. Beatrice had attended St. Andrew’s alongside both Spencer and Holden. Whatever hope I’d had that they hadn’t known one another dissipated with each second that passed leaving only icy certainty in its wake.

Beatrice might have been Kerrigan’s friend once, but she’d also clearly been close with Spencer. The question was how close?

I coughed lightly to interrupt the intimate scene unfolding in front of me. Spencer turned to me, his grin turning into a full-blown smile that thawed me considerably. He was dressed for the warm, fall weather in a button down shirt, its top button unfastened casually, and well-cut charcoal-grey trousers. My eyes skimmed over the slight bulge near his groin, wondering exactly how excited he’d been by his reunion with Beatrice.

“Kerrigan!” Beatrice called shrilly, clasping her hands together but not bothering to stand. She was the picture of propriety in a loose garden dress that nipped in at the waist but otherwise draped romantically around her svelte figure. Honey blonde curls were captured loosely below her ear in an elegant twist that was both informal and chic. She looked as though she might easily go from a garden party to a tennis match to an afternoon tea with little effort to reimagine her wardrobe. I, on the other hand, had changed quickly from the dress suit I’d worn to the bridal salon into a cream silk shell that I’d tucked into a high-waisted pleated skirt that stopped at my calves. The tall wedges I’d paired with it took the outfit from boring to sophisticated. I’d left my hair down, opting for nothing more than a pair of Kerrigan’s large diamond earrings and the oversized engagement ring on my left hand.

“Bea,” I said with a forced smile, using the nickname Giles had given me during our too-brief overview of Kerrigan’s relationship with her. “What a lovely surprise.”

Beatrice raised a plucked eyebrow, studying me for a moment. “Is it? I wasn’t certain it would be.”

Her question stopped me in my tracks. Despite knowing about their falling out, Giles had no idea what had caused the rift between the two friends. That left me at a serious disadvantage. I could only hope that offering honey rather than vinegar would garner more answers. “It is. The past is in the past.”

Her cornflower-blue eyes slid to the man standing between us before she answered, “I’m glad to hear that. It was such a silly row in the first place, and it looks as though it hasn’t changed anything.”

I didn’t miss the biting edge of her words—or how she looked at Spencer. I fought another wave of nausea. It hadn’t simply been a fight that came between Kerrigan and her old friend. It was clear that Spencer played into it somehow. But how? Kerrigan had barely known Spencer, having only met him as a child. Of course, according to Tod Belmond, the arrangement of their marriage had been in the works since they were infants. Kerrigan couldn’t have staked a claim on her future husband before they’d really met, could she?

I already knew the answer to that question. I’d seen it myself. These wealthy family dynasties didn’t merely own land and houses and cars, they owned people. I was proof of that. I’d allowed myself to be bought and sold by the Belmonds. If Kerrigan believed that Spencer belonged to her, she very well could have punished her former friend for showing interest in him. Even now, I felt jealous at the thought that he might share a past with the beautiful blonde.

“And what was the fight about?” Spencer asked as he stepped toward me. He circled an arm around my waist and drew me closer to him. Given that we had company, he didn’t greet me with the usual kiss, but despite its absence, I felt him marking his territory.

“A boy,” Beatrice said in a coy tone. “Isn’t it always?”

“Should I be jealous?” Spencer asked me.

I stared up at him, my whole being ensnared by his mere presence. For a moment, there was no one else in the room but him. “No.”

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Beatrice called, breaking the spell he’d cast over me. “Have you set a date?”

“We haven’t,” I said tightly, “but it seems our families want a Christmas wedding.”

Spencer’s eyebrow shot up, and a burden lifted from my shoulders. I hadn’t been sure if he’d known about the December wedding date, but he seemed as surprised as I was at this news. “Is that so?”

“Maybe my father and your grandfather should get married instead,” I grumbled. “They seem far too interested in wedding plans for old men.”

“I’ll make sure to mention that to him,” Spencer said dryly. “Oh well, it hardly matters, does it? We made our decision. They can obsess over the spectacle.”

I had no doubt that spectacle would be the right word for it. I kept this thought to myself and decided to bring the matter up with Spencer again when we were alone. I needed to know how he really felt.