He takes a step closer. “Mrs. Aston says you met her eldest son today.”
Ah, so word of that has already spread. I shouldn’t be surprised. “Yes, he introduced himself to me at the bookshop this morning.”
“You refused his offer to walk you home.” He doesn’t bother hiding his disapproval.
“I did. I desired some time alone with darling Imogen.” My words come out with far more sarcasm than I mean to reveal.
“While I approve of your restraint as opposed to throwing yourself at the young man—”
I nearly lash out as my inner rage ignites. Bythrowing myself at him, I’m sure he’s referring to what he assumes transpired with the viscount in Bretton. Swallowing my anger, I grit my teeth and take another sip of my tea.
“—I do think your refusal must be far softer next time. Decline such an invitation only once to demonstrate your virtue. If you refuse a suitor’s persistence too many times, he’s not likely to try again.”
“Perhaps a suitor’s unwanted persistence shouldn’t be praised but condemned.” I try to keep my voice as light as I can, but a bitter edge cuts through.
His eyes narrow to slits, his heavy brow pulling down. “I don’t recall that being your opinion when we were in Bretton.”
My composure shatters, and I slam the teacup on its saucer. No matter how many times I try, I cannot be the daughter Father wants me to be, not even in pretend. Screw the mask. Screw my false persona.
Burning him with a glare, I rise to my feet. But as I face him, my chest heaving, I know not what to say. I’ve shared my side of the story once before. I’ve said my truth. I cried, I bared my bleeding heart. And what was I met with? My own family, both my father and my eldest sister, Marnie—two people I loved and expected to love me back—responded with disgust. Not disgust at the situation or the man who brought scandal to my life, but withme.
I was abandoned by the one who swore to love me, and yetIwas at fault for giving away my virtue.Iwas responsible for my demise. My ruin. My pain.Iwas responsible for what the people were saying about me in the streets.Ishamed the family, destroyed our precious prospects.
Father holds my gaze, lips pulling into a smirk. In this moment, he looks more like a demon than the father of my childhood. Gone is the kind, loving man whose eyes would crinkle when Mother made him laugh. All that’s left of him is a cold, unfeeling husk. And right now, he knows I have no defense against him. He knows I can only seethe and glare and squeeze my fingers into fists.
“You’d do well to behave, my daughter,” he says, taking a slow step forward. “If you’re caught in another scandal, I won’t protect you.”
I bite out a sharp laugh. “Oh, because you protected me so well before.”
“I did, Gemma.” His words are calm, quiet. There’s so much conviction in them that I know he must believe it’s true. “You are too willful to know when gratitude is due. We could have stayed in Bretton. I could have let you be forever known as the harlot who seduced the princess’ fiancé. Instead, I brought you here for a fresh start. If it weren’t for my change of fortune with the quartz mine, we never would have had the chance.”
He’s right about the last part, at least. We never would have had the means to relocate if it weren’t for the enormous cache of quartz discovered on one of Father’s properties mere months ago. It happened just as the scandal reached its summit and allowed him to make a deal with the Winter Court. He gave the court exclusive rights to the quartz in exchange for a hefty salary and citizenship of Faerwyvae—a rare privilege, I’ve come to learn, for humans must be personally escorted through the magic barrier by the fae in order to set foot on the isle.
Still, he didn’t bring us here to saveme. He did it to save himself. His precious reputation.
“Say thank you,” Father says through his teeth, “and return to your seat.”
There’s something else I want to say to him, and it sure isn’tthankyou. It’s a four-letter word and comes with a rude gesture—
“Wearegrateful, Father.” Nina leaves her chair and comes to my side, entwining her fingers with mine. “Gemma is grateful.” She looks up at me, her eyes round and pleading. She hates when Father and I fight, and I hate that stupid sweet face she makes at me when we do. It always softens my heart and she knows it.
At least it gives me a chance to cool my nerves before I say something I’ll regret. Push Father too far, and I have no doubts he’ll strip me of my allowance and marry me off to the first taker. Not even the highest bidder.
No, I need to secure my financial independence first.ThenI can tell him to piss off.
A trickle of sweat slides down the back of my neck as my eyes continue to burn with rage. Schooling my features behind a mask of subservience, I bow my head. In my mind, this is all pretend. I’m not myself but one of the governesses in my books. In the first book of the series, the governess is forced to play the part of the well-behaved pupil to avoid the wrath of her evil schoolteachers. That’s all this is. Pretend. I can play pretend.
I keep the story fixed in my consciousness as I say, “I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done, Father. I deeply apologize that I fail to show it.”
When I meet Father’s eyes, he purses his lips. I can’t tell if he buys my act, but he makes no argument. Instead, he waves his hand at my chair, and I follow his unspoken order. Then, without a word, he leaves the parlor.
I squeeze the arms of my chair, my body quaking with restrained rage as I listen for the sound of his slow, retreating footsteps. Only when I can no longer hear their echo do I meet my sister’s gaze. Nina immediately bursts out laughing as if it were nothing more than an entertaining show. “I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did,” she says. “That must be a record. What was that…thirty seconds of good behavior?”
I shake my head, unable to match her mirth. Closing my eyes, I release a heavy sigh that barely reduces the tension built up in every muscle, but I breathe steadily until I manage to cool down some. When I open my eyes, I feel empty. Worn. Tired. Shoulders slumped, I’m about to retrieve my newspaper when Susan enters the room with a tray of letters. “The post has arrived,” the maid says.
A rush of hope surges through me, just enough to push my exhaustion away, and I leap to my feet.
“Is there anything from Marnie?” Nina asks, hard on my heels as we race to Susan.
