The Blood Bride (Blood Secrets) (6 page)

The woman smoothed her rose pink and blue floral-patterned dress down, pushing against the wrinkles in an effort to iron them against their own will, while her feet were shod in comfortable and sensible low-heeled black shoes, polished to a high shine. Salt and pepper hair scraped back into an ugly bun and thick horn-rimmed glasses made her look anonymous and insignificant, next to Hope’s perfectly turned-out mother.

Her mother rose, following the woman’s retreat as Mrs Atkins backed out of the room, then she firmly closed the door against the world, and Hope stood, waiting wearily for the outburst she expected, ready for the brief flare of anger that usually came as a result of her inattention.

“Well, Hope, I know you don’t want to be here doing these things, but it is your role. Your future. At least show some respect for your position and pay attention. If not for your sake, then for that of the staff at the very least.” The viperous attack took her aback, heat burning her face at the level of rage.

“Mother?” She felt shocked, stomach churning at the realisation that the precious relationship she had enjoyed with her mother was broken. The anger on her mother’s face, the way it twisted and the cold look in her eyes left her shrinking back. Never before had her mother spoken to her this way. Though there had been a distinct coolness in her attitude since her return, this was an unwelcome revelation.

“I never wanted you to go to college. By now, you should be looking for a husband within either this or an equal nest. Someone worthy, with skills and abilities that would enhance the nest’s reputation and standing, either married or ready to marry, at least.” Hope stepped back again, farther away from the icy blast that pummelled her emotionally. “Instead you continue with this…charade! Your head is full of silly ideas about having a career. You should be honoured that you are a nestling of the biggest and most prestigious house, and you have a role.” Her mother pointed at her chest, which now ached with the pressure building within it. “You have a status that many girls would do just about anything to achieve. One that is unable to be matched by others.”

Hope sat heavily. Sure, she’d expected her mother to be upset, but nothing like this. Never had it crossed her mind that her mother would react like wanting her own life was a cardinal infraction against the nest and a personal attack. All she wanted was to make decisions for herself. Not to have to sit in on meetings that meant very little to her.

“Mother? I’m sorry.” The words pushed beyond the hurt, the slicing ache that attacked her chest. “I just… I can’t do this. I can’t be you. You love what you do. You do it so well, but I don’t want to. This isn’t what I am.”

Hope gestured around the room. A veritable museum, with French rose wallpaper gracing the walls of the perfectly proportioned space, dark polished wood floors with fine Aubusson carpeting. Heavy green drapes draped over the French doors that led to a terrace where roses stood in geometric perfection. Paintings by old masters lined the walls. The Louis XIV desk and chairs, chaise longue, and gold and marble timepiece filled the mantle above the ornate fireplace all came together, creating a look of genteel finery. The crystal chandelier that dripped with perfect shining drops beamed light into the room. It was a cage, gilded perhaps, but a cage nonetheless in Hope’s mind.

“This is you. Not me.” Her head moved slightly as she tried to make her point.

“No. This is you. This is your future. You will be taking over here in the next few months.” Her mother looked away, and a sensation of alarm surged through Hope. “Your father has spoken with the Master. I… I can’t continue doing this.” Her face crumpled and for the first time, the strong woman she remembered from childhood seemed lost, while something sad rose in her face, and the pain crushed Hope from within. “I wasn’t going to say anything yet. My doctor has told me I need to slow down. I have…an advanced and incurable illness. I need someone trained to take over the role as Chatelaine and Mistress to the
Yeux Secondes
.”

The words hit like blows, another pain she couldn’t contain screamed through her and her fingers curled into the palm of her hand, the blunt edges of her nails biting at the soft and tender skin. Her strong mother was ill? When had this happened? Why hadn’t she known? She opened her mouth as her mother raised a hand. “We decided it wasn’t right to tell you, but I saw you in the meeting. I don’t think you listened to one word. That has to change.” The words were frigid and delivered forcefully.

In the back of Hope’s mind an alarm rang viciously, but Hope pushed it aside. Now wasn’t the time to be second-guessing her mother.

“What about Alexa?” Her sister-in-law would probably jump at the chance to take over from her mother. That would free her up, and if her mother required care then she would be available. Surely that would be an acceptable outcome? But even as Hope thought it, she knew what her mother’s reaction would be. It would be a shake of the head without a single hair flying free.

“Alexa? No, the Master would not allow that. She doesn’t have the knowledge and experience for the demands of the role, anyway. Let alone the discipline. She wants children and is in fact already expecting, from what I understand. That would get in the way of her learning how to handle a household and nest as diverse and large as this one.” Her mother’s words weren’t meant to sound unkind, Hope knew, but somehow the tone just made her feel colder at the hint of darkness lurking in her mother’s eyes. The walls were closing around her and soon there would be no escape.

A bubble of fear rose in her chest, and she had to grip the arms of her chair tightly. How could this happen to her?

“But I don’t want to do this.” A feeling of being constricted against her will rose. “I want a job, Mother. I want to do something with my degree. I want to be something. Not just someone who runs a nest. I want to live my own life!”

The final word cracked and Hope’s gaze was met with a disdainful look and tensed shoulders. The emotional response lashed at Hope once more. “You don’t think I do something?” The cold anger in the answer ate at Hope. She’d angered her mother, overstepping the line. There could be nothing more degrading than telling her mother that she did nothing—she could almost hear her mother’s thoughts. She wanted to cry at the unfairness.

Coming home was supposed to be the beginning of her life, not a life sentence, she thought, self-pity dragging at her. She reached out towards her mother, seeking some form of connection. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean that as it came out. I meant, I just don’t think I am cut out for your kind of life. To be what you are and to do what you do.”

Hope willed her mother to understand, but knew it was not a prayer that was going to be listened to from the set of her shoulders and the white lines around her lips. If only someone could or would understand. Instead her mother moved away, behind her desk. The physical barrier cut off any action Hope had intended, and the pain inside her grew bigger, suffocating her, until all that existed was a seething, frustrated mass.

“You may be excused for now. We have a meeting at eleven with the managers. Be on time. You may not care what I do, but I will be professional and well-mannered to the end. Remember, if you don’t care about your reputation, I care about mine.” Then her mother picked up a file and swung her chair around to face the window. Tears leaked from Hope’s eyes at the dismissal in her gaze. She knew there was nothing else to do, so she turned slowly, then picked up her papers and walked carefully towards the door. As she reached out, she cast a glance over her shoulder, but the sight of the chair swinging away reinforced that it was time to leave. With a heavy sigh, she opened the door then left her mother.

* * * *

Dressing slowly, Hope pondered on the day that had passed, stopping in the act of pulling the black and silver gown over her underwear-clad body. It had started badly, and only got worse after the altercation in the parlour.

The meeting with the managers had made her mother angrier. They’d discussed the ongoing issues with maintenance, managers and setting the increase in rental rates. Hope had watched with trepidation, as her mother had been short and curt by the end, no doubt strung out by the varied problems that had arisen. By the time the decorators had arrived, her mother had been almost snarling in anger, and had ended the appointment with a request to meet in a couple of days, giving her time to consider swatches and layouts. None of it obviously had been what she’d intended.

Hope couldn’t see herself continuing the programme of rehabilitating the properties that had been targeted in the last few years. True, her mother had done an exceptional job, but she knew her attention to that sort of detail just didn’t exist. For now, she would have to swallow her arguments until an opportunity came along to do something more fulfilling, and to prove to them that her place in life did not include setting rental rates and choosing colour swatches. After all, now she had the added fear of the news her mother had imparted.

Her stomach rumbled loudly in the empty room, the churn painful as the lack of food was brought to her attention. Lunch had been a cold affair, and Hope’s appetite non-existent as the three senior women of the household had sat picking their way through a meal none of them wanted.

Alexa had been there with her blonde hair artfully tied back. She’d also showcased her willowy frame to perfection. Hope had been irked by her vaguely superior attitude as she had wandered into the family dining room. As usual, Alexa was a fashion plate with her fitted hot pink pants and light cotton blouse, immaculate and much more suitable for the weather, while Hope had felt overdressed in her black pantsuit and heels.

Hope had moved the salad and cold chicken around her plate as she’d listened to a muted discussion of nursery design. Was mint more appropriate or should she steer towards cream with gold scrollwork? Her mother’s replies, warmer towards Alexa than they were to her, had reinforced the emotional chasm that now existed between them.

She had made her excuses as soon as she could, and fled the room, but not before her mother had made the announcement to Alexa that Hope would be taking over the household in the next few months.

Alexa’s eyes had narrowed, and for an instant Hope had seen dislike…no, hate spike through her cold blue eyes, while her lips had flattened with distaste.

Now, standing alone in her room, she looked up into the mirror, critically examining herself. Violet eyes, blue-black hair long and fastened back in a faultless chignon. Classically simple diamond drops at her ears and throat, and the long black and silver gown made her look like an adult, but inside, where it counted, she felt like a lost little girl playing dress-up in someone else’s life.

How was she to get out of this? Even as she pondered the thought, the phone buzzed and she reached absently to answer. “Hope here.”

“Miss Hope? The guests are due to arrive momentarily and the Master is expected in a few minutes. Your mother asked me to let you know that you are expected.” The voice was vaguely apologetic, and she knew Gareth was uncomfortable passing along the summons. No doubt, the household had already heard about the tensions in the family. She felt a moment of embarrassment as her skin flared hot and she closed her eyes. It wasn’t fair to live in a goldfish bowl like this and subject others to the angst within her family.

“Tell my mother that I am on my way, thanks, Gareth.” She replaced the receiver, then with a last look at the woman she saw in the mirror, the one with lost eyes, Hope turned away, her arches already reminding her she was unused to the high heels her mother had chosen.

Hope moved along the shadowed hallway and down the steps, slowly this time, fearing the evening ahead as the usual dull and dry event her parents enjoyed. Then she brought herself back to where she was. It wouldn’t be auspicious if she started the evening with tripping and embarrassing her mother any further before she even reached the bottom.

Once she stopped and glanced around the foyer it was clear that her mother would insist she be with them to receive the guests in the ballroom. She moved in that direction, heels tapping on the floor as she entered through the open door. Her mother and father waited with David and Alexa. Both men looked fine in their perfectly tailored black tuxedos, while Alexa stood, her appearance ravishing in her midnight blue gown, no doubt chosen to match her eyes, and cut low enough to show her shadowed cleavage, emphasised by the sparkle of jewels glinting like a million stars around her neck and at her ears and wrist.

Her mother, regal in a powder blue, two-piece long skirt and camisole-styled top, teamed with a light lace bolero, looked as fashionable and elegant as always.

Hope felt like an ugly cygnet beside them, and once more the feeling of being out of place swept through her.

“Hope. You are just in time. The Master has graciously offered to act as your escort for tonight.” Her voice was once more subtly censorious and she saw a glint of something in Alexa’s eyes.

“Yes, you must have an escort, Hope. It is expected.” Her brother repeated her mother’s mantra as he looked at her, with a hint of coolness in his eyes. A surge of emotions swam through her. Was she incomplete or less of a woman, because of this? She’d never felt this sense of loneliness before, but maybe it was because everyone seemed to be withdrawing from her. But the question remained. Did she really need a man, a husband, to belong now?

The sounds of feet came from behind her and a scent redolent of male teamed with leather filled the air. The subtle fragrance warmed and reassured her, and she turned slightly to see Xavier, the Master, waiting behind her. His smile might have been considered slightly condescending, but languorous warmth spread through her body. She gazed at him in silence. He held out his hand and she had no choice but to accept it. But did she really want to avoid it? A new feeling rose in her chest, calling to a primal need within.