on her face as she spoke through clenched teeth. “What did you say, dear?”
Deirdre smiled pointedly at another couple that greeted her as they passed. “You heard me, Mother.”
Penny turned to the next pair of aristocrats. “We seem to have forgotten something for the party. Please continue to meet the rest of the family and Deirdre and I will return shortly.”
Deirdre felt her mother’s thin fingers grip her elbow. “Let’s go find that silverware , shall we Deirdre?”
Her mother led her from the banquet hall into the parlor, shutting and locking the massive gold-etched door behind them. She turned on Deirdre, her teeth clenched, her voice a harsh whisper. “Tell me this is not happening. Deirdre. Sam must come and he must propose! This is announced as an engagement party, and we have no engagement to show! I have the media on standby for this.”
If Deirdre sought sympathy for her situation, she’d find none here. She learned long ago that disappointment and feelings were to be swept under the rug if it meant jeopardizing the Lamont reputation of the perfect societal family. No, Mother was not one she could break down and cry to over her own disappointment that Sam was in no hurry to be her husband. The only thing that mattered now was to keep it from the press.
Deirdre waved away her mother’s concern, the best way to calm Penny down. “Just tell the hounds Sam was delayed in Germany. There will be an engagement to celebrate, just not today.”
Penny pondered the idea for a moment, her eyes darting back and forth until the decision was made. “Brilliant idea, darling. It’s the same thing we’ll tell the guests.” She smoothed down her dress and visibly relaxed. “Now then. Did Sam give you any indication of when he might actually propose?”
Again, concern for Sam, nothing for her. Couldn’t her mother see the hurt invading every aspect of her being? No, of course not, for Deirdre couldn’t show defeat, no Lamont ever had. Throw us down and we just bounce.
“He’ll be back soon, Mother.”
“Yes, he will .” Penny’s answer seemed more threat than assurance. She coiffed her hair and walked to the parlor door. “Now put on your brightest smile and finish greeting your guests.”
“In a moment, Mother.” Deirdre feigned a search for something in her tiny, diamond-studded purse. “I need to touch up my lipstick.”
“Of course.” Penny left, shutting the door behind her, the scent of her perfume lingering in the parlor. Deirdre felt nauseous.
She waited a moment until Penny’s high-heels could no longer be heard clicking down the marble hallway. Surveying the room, she picked up a nearby Chinese vase, and with a grunt of fury and frustration, sent it sailing against a wall. The expensive antique shattered on contact, its pieces falling onto the Oriental rug.
“Feel better? Scarlett O’Hara has nothing on you.”
Deirdre spun around, shocked to have her undoing witnessed.
A tall, thin yet muscular, strawberry blondish fellow leaned nonchalantly against the doorway.
“Jesus, Spencer.” Deirdre collapsed onto a nearby settee. “What are you doing here?”
“You invited me.” He winked as he smiled, his pale blue eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners.
Deirdre pushed back a wisp of hair that dared to fall against her forehead. “No, I mean, here , in this room. Guests aren’t allowed in here.”
“Yes, well. I heard there was a bloody fantastic performance of “Gone With the Wind” being re-enacted.” He nodded over to the vase lying in pieces on the floor. “That looked expensive.”
“Everything here is expensive.” Deirdre waved off his remark as she quickly regained false composure. “Now whatever could you want?”
“I was looking for you.” Spencer entered the room. Deirdre bristled. Horrible enough he witnessed her anger, but now he wouldn’t leave. “And I’m looking for Sam. He’s been so elusive lately. I rang him several times,
Deirdre smiled pointedly at another couple that greeted her as they passed. “You heard me, Mother.”
Penny turned to the next pair of aristocrats. “We seem to have forgotten something for the party. Please continue to meet the rest of the family and Deirdre and I will return shortly.”
Deirdre felt her mother’s thin fingers grip her elbow. “Let’s go find that silverware , shall we Deirdre?”
Her mother led her from the banquet hall into the parlor, shutting and locking the massive gold-etched door behind them. She turned on Deirdre, her teeth clenched, her voice a harsh whisper. “Tell me this is not happening. Deirdre. Sam must come and he must propose! This is announced as an engagement party, and we have no engagement to show! I have the media on standby for this.”
If Deirdre sought sympathy for her situation, she’d find none here. She learned long ago that disappointment and feelings were to be swept under the rug if it meant jeopardizing the Lamont reputation of the perfect societal family. No, Mother was not one she could break down and cry to over her own disappointment that Sam was in no hurry to be her husband. The only thing that mattered now was to keep it from the press.
Deirdre waved away her mother’s concern, the best way to calm Penny down. “Just tell the hounds Sam was delayed in Germany. There will be an engagement to celebrate, just not today.”
Penny pondered the idea for a moment, her eyes darting back and forth until the decision was made. “Brilliant idea, darling. It’s the same thing we’ll tell the guests.” She smoothed down her dress and visibly relaxed. “Now then. Did Sam give you any indication of when he might actually propose?”
Again, concern for Sam, nothing for her. Couldn’t her mother see the hurt invading every aspect of her being? No, of course not, for Deirdre couldn’t show defeat, no Lamont ever had. Throw us down and we just bounce.
“He’ll be back soon, Mother.”
“Yes, he will .” Penny’s answer seemed more threat than assurance. She coiffed her hair and walked to the parlor door. “Now put on your brightest smile and finish greeting your guests.”
“In a moment, Mother.” Deirdre feigned a search for something in her tiny, diamond-studded purse. “I need to touch up my lipstick.”
“Of course.” Penny left, shutting the door behind her, the scent of her perfume lingering in the parlor. Deirdre felt nauseous.
She waited a moment until Penny’s high-heels could no longer be heard clicking down the marble hallway. Surveying the room, she picked up a nearby Chinese vase, and with a grunt of fury and frustration, sent it sailing against a wall. The expensive antique shattered on contact, its pieces falling onto the Oriental rug.
“Feel better? Scarlett O’Hara has nothing on you.”
Deirdre spun around, shocked to have her undoing witnessed.
A tall, thin yet muscular, strawberry blondish fellow leaned nonchalantly against the doorway.
“Jesus, Spencer.” Deirdre collapsed onto a nearby settee. “What are you doing here?”
“You invited me.” He winked as he smiled, his pale blue eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners.
Deirdre pushed back a wisp of hair that dared to fall against her forehead. “No, I mean, here , in this room. Guests aren’t allowed in here.”
“Yes, well. I heard there was a bloody fantastic performance of “Gone With the Wind” being re-enacted.” He nodded over to the vase lying in pieces on the floor. “That looked expensive.”
“Everything here is expensive.” Deirdre waved off his remark as she quickly regained false composure. “Now whatever could you want?”
“I was looking for you.” Spencer entered the room. Deirdre bristled. Horrible enough he witnessed her anger, but now he wouldn’t leave. “And I’m looking for Sam. He’s been so elusive lately. I rang him several times,
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