Page 48 of Secret Dynasty

I sucked in a breath. “I can’t.”

“Can’t and won’t are different animals,” he said in a gentle voice. “Kerrigan, I believe this started when we tried regression therapy.”

“That’s why I’m here now. I want you to hypnotize me or whatever. Figure out what’s wrong with me. I accept whatever risk that carries with it.” And if he couldn’t do that, he could convince me to let all of this go. I would let him feed me whatever lies were necessary to live in this strange world.

“It’s not that simple, or we would have had success before. Your mind is already trying to help you see what’s wrong,” he explained.

“It’s doing a shit job.” My voice cracked.

“No. It is doing what it can. The rest is up to you.”

“I’m trying.” Why couldn’t he see that? Why couldn’t anyone see that? My family, the doctor, Holden—they all wanted answers. But none of them wanted them more than me? None of them were willing to go as far as I would go to find them.

“And that, my dear, is your problem. You have to let go. Give in to the panic. Let the memories overwhelm you. That’s where you will find your answers.” He paused before delivering the bad news. “But, Kerrigan, you might not like what you discover.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The next day I found myself staring at the gown hanging from the wardrobe in my new bedroom. It wasn’t the dress I’d chosen in the shop. There’d been no time to rush its order. Its loss was a small mercy. I couldn’t bear the thought of wearing that dress to exchange vows with Spencer. I never wanted to see it again.

I felt nothing for the strapless gown we’d managed to find. The dress itself was pretty. Covered in delicate lace, it tightened to a sheath at my hips before puddling into a small train. Given the weather, the bridal salon had suggested a fur cape to wear as well. I smiled when everyone gushed and pretended I was pleased. In a way I was. It meant that my dream dress wouldn’t be worn as I walked into a nightmare.

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of Camille and her crew.

“Oh,” she exclaimed as she came into the room and looked at the dress. “Your gown is beautiful!”

I forced a smile. “Let’s see what you can do about the rest of me.”

She clucked with disapproval at my self-degradation and set about preparing me for today’s photoshoot. Caroline had moved heaven and hell to get a photographer here to do a bridal portrait before the wedding at Spencer’s insistence.

“This will be a trial run, yes?” Camille asked as she debated between two pots of pink blush. “It will give us a chance to change what we don’t like.”

The groom? I wanted to say, but kept the thought to myself.

“You seem sad,” she murmured as she started to work on me.

“The plans changed. We had to move the wedding up.” It was a reasonable explanation. Under other circumstances, it might have been true.

Camille’s eyes darted down and it took me a second to realize what she was doing.

“I’m not pregnant,” I said quickly. No doubt that’s what everyone assumed—and if Spencer had his way it wouldn’t be long before it was true. “His grandfather passed away and he wanted to get married sooner.”

“Happiness to ease the sadness,” she said, her eyes wide with sympathy.

I wished I could look at it that way, but I was in the unfortunate position of knowing the real reason Spencer wanted to marry quickly. Still, pretending it was the case to Camille was good practice. She wouldn’t be the last person who attributed better motives to our hasty marriage. I needed to get used to that.

She had just placed the last pin in my hair when someone knocked softly at the door.

“We’re almost ready,” I called. All that was left was to slip on the gown and cape.

“It’s me,” Iris said, her voice muffled by the heavy door. “May I come in?”

Since I’d moved out of Willoughby Place, the only time I saw her was when she came to help with the wedding. Since a small country had been hired to produce this event on a tight timeline, it was easy enough to avoid her. I hadn’t asked her to come today. Caroline must have told her. Spencer’s mother had a keen eye for spotting tension between people and exploiting it. I shouldn’t be surprised that she’d pulled this stunt.

“Yes,” I said finally. Standing, I smoothed my silk robe over my lace corset. I didn’t bother to look in the mirror. I wasn’t curious what Camille had done to my hair or make-up. I knew it would be stunning, but I also knew it was a sham.

Iris stepped inside carrying a heavy dress bag. I looked at it curiously.

“I have a surprise for you,” she confessed as she unzipped it. “We weren’t sure there would be time, so we didn’t want to say anything. You’ve had enough disappointment the last few weeks.”