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“Word on the street is that he doesn’t dabble with Society girls, which makes himperfect.” She batted her lashes in my direction, as if the very fact that he didn’t want to mingle with his own kind wasn’t some sort of warning sign.
I held her gaze for one long, painful moment, and then I exhaled because nothing was worth risking Gemma - not even steering Holly in a different direction. I made my choice a long time ago, and that choice was Gemma. It always would be.
CHAPTER TWO: BREATHE DEEP
MADILYN
Deep inhale.Hold.And exhale. I fell back into the very simple act of breathing to keep me centered - grounded.
The woman glared at me, unimpressed, as I fought for saliva tore-entermy damn mouth. My tongue was dry, my palms clammy, becausethis was happening. I washere- exactly where Daddy wanted me - exactly where I was expected. Only, like all things my parents wanted for me in life, it didn’t feel so good. But I had long since been told that in the grand scheme of things, my feelings didn't matter. I was a Montgomery, and Montgomery’s didn’t crack.
“Yourname,” she snapped the words at me as if my lack of providing the information she sought meant that I was dense.
“Grace,” my voice came out timid - not the projected voice of a chairman like my father or the homely warm tone of my mother. I cleared my throat and tried again, “Grace Montgomery.” Still, myvoice squeaked out the last syllable, making me sound like an eighth grader. Great. Just what I needed - I was already probably the youngest here, and I didn’t need to give them any more ammunition to treat me differently.
“Orientation is in room C2.” She glanced up at me once before looking back at the clipboard she clutched in her grip.Dismissed.
I nodded my head once and smiled demurely - just like the lady I was - the lady my mother had drilled me into becoming.
I walked carefully, placing one foot in front of the other - not too sexy, not too fast, just the right pace for a lady. I needed to make a good impression - it’s what Daddy would have wanted. Even if I wasn’t sure about his plans - didn’t understand how all this benefited the family, I would follow through with the plan. After all, this plan had been in motion before I was even born - the pairing arranged soon after my birth - the first meeting occuring in my teenage years, and it all lead up tonow- tothis moment. Because once I walked through those doors, I wouldseehim - and, this time, there would be no chaperones.
The thought both excited me and frightened me.
Because it meant that this wasreal- it meant that he wouldn’t be the guarded boy I met one summer over high tea - it meant that I would get totalkto him -discoverwhohereally was.
The only problem with this line of thinking was - what if I didn’t like him?
My mother had made it clear that my likes didn’t matter - he came from a good family, our children would be well taken care of - he would step into the role his father provided for him - so what more could I really ask for?
I swallowed down any other objection my mind could come up with as I moved mindlessly towards the door - C2.
The room was full, but not the type of full that made it crowded, and as my gaze skated over the array of vibrant individuals already seated, I wondered if I was in the right place - because while I didn’t feelunder-dressed, I was certainly wearing a far more conservative outfit compared to some of the women here. The sound of chatter and bantering filled the hall, causing a pang of longing to shoot through me. I didn’t havethat- didn’t have the type of friends I could gossip and chatter with.Gossiping was unladylike. My mother’s voice struck through my temple.
I sighed, resigning myself to the fact thatthiswas my destiny -thiswas where I was supposed to be -thiswas what I had been preparing myself for my whole life.
I walked slowly, my light blue skater dress swishing with every movement. It may have been sexy if not for the high collar and cropped sleeves, but, even then, it was the kind of outfit that would never be scandalous.
I chose the second to last row to seat myself in. I needed toobserve- needed tounderstandthe setting I had found myself in. But, mostly, I needed toseehim without him noticing. Because, so far, all I had discovered about the man I was destined to marry was a set of glowing reports and praise that my parents bestowed upon him. Of course, I knew that he came from a good family - our parents often did business together, but I knew first hand how difficult it was to be a good reflection on one's parents. And, so, this was my opportunity tosee- tolook- towatch.
The one summer afternoon I had met him as a young teen hardly counted.
He was seated in the front row. Somehow that didn’t surprise me because even when his own mother had told me how docile andshyhe was, he had struck me as a popular kid - one with lots of friends - a life filled with chatter.
His posture was perfect, oozing confidence even from this distance. His elbow nudged the man beside him as they jostled and laughed, and the sound of his laughter made my morning cappuccino curdle in the pit of my stomach. Because hewasn’tshy. But then - why would he be? He wasPaul Mae. He had gone to all the right schools, made all the right connections, stepped into the perfect position in his father’s military company, and now he washere- expecting to meetme.
I felt my shame claw at my chest, leaving the hot rash-like blush in its wake as it moved up my neck until it was scalding my cheeks. Because next to him, I had nothing. I had no friends, no connections - and I had left school after college. My fingers curled into a fist involuntarily, scraping against the fabric of my dress. This was how I always felt around other people -whymy mother wasashamedof me in so many ways - I was inadequate.
I shifted in my seat, watching him stretch back in his chair, flashing a grin at some girl behind him. Another pang of sorrow - shame - sadness - slammed through my body. Because hewasflirting. Better yet - heknew howto flirt.
I had spent my teenage years ferried to school and back and nowhere else - was told that I needed to staypurefor my husband -for him, and here he wasflirting.
It doesn’t mean anything. The voice whispering in the back of my brain sounded like my mother’s, only, this time, not even she sounded sure.
I sat there, stiff, drowning in my own conflicting emotions, waiting for the feeling of overwhelm to drip down into that dark place where I bottled and stored all these unhelpful thoughts and feelings, shelving them away into the deep crevice of my mind labelednever open. Because none of these thoughts were helpful.
I watched the men seated in the front row, jostling and joking with one another - all of them good looking in their own right - all of them set to lead the next generation of members of The Society.
And Paul was among them.
