“And if she doesn’t want to be my mistress?” I hedged.
“She is done living here. Though, I would hurry and decide…” Grandfather said absently. “I think Lottie is arriving soon.”
STORY
* * *
I woke up alone in Grayson’s bed, and for a soft, cottony moment, was happy. Then I opened my eyes and saw the person at the foot of the bed. I scrambled to pull the sheets against my chest.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Tansy asked.
She smiled warmly at me, looking so elegant in her white dress and blood-red shoes.
My face flamed. “I…no…”
“Grayson is preparing for the arrival of his fiancée.”
There was a song we sang in elementary school to annoy our teachers. The song that never ends…it just goes on and on again. As Tansy smiled down at me from the foot of the bed, all I could think was, This is the nightmare that never ends…it goes on and on again.
“He told everyone last night. He loves me. He wants to marry me.”
“Oh, dear.” Tansy smiled, but it was vicious. Her pretty smile dripped oil. “History is written by those who own the pen, and we own the pen.”
She tossed a few papers at me.
Playboy Gray Has Eyes Only for His Future Wife.
Grayson Crowne Smitten with Charlotte du Lac.
“In the end, all that matters is who he marries. As I’ve said before, we have a very competitive mistress package. A house. A monthly stipend. Holidays. For someone like you, it’s more than generous.”
Mistress.
I couldn’t breathe. I mashed my lips together and stared at the sheets.
“We simply expect birth control and abortion, if necessary. Oh, and keep your mouth shut.” Anger bit off the last word.
“I don’t want to be a mistress,” I croaked.
“I didn’t want three ungrateful children and a philandering husband, but fate doesn’t take bribes.” She stepped on the sheets hanging off the bed, forcing me to grapple with them so I wasn’t exposed. “He isn’t Abigail. He has responsibilities. This ends no other way for you.”
Threat hung heavy and dark.
Then all at once she stepped off the sheets. “Oh, Lottie dear, perfect timing!”
I followed her eyes to where Lottie stood at the top of the stairs, with her two-toned cream-and-camel luggage behind her, hurt stamping her face. Tears in her eyes.
Our eyes locked. She looked just as surprised to see me as I her.
“It’s time to have a frank discussion,” Tansy said. “Which is, frankly, overdue.”
I’d never felt more like the other woman than at this moment, naked, stuck in his bed, as his future wife waited to move in.
“Ideally, the mistress and the wife should be on speaking terms. As the wife, you can set your own rules of order for her to follow.”
I stared at the sheets.
“Lottie?” Tansy probed.