Modern English, page 24
Weaving between staff and visitors alike, she bounded up the stairs and made a sharp turn toward the residence. A security guard nodded his recognition and stepped aside but had the good sense not to say anything. Surely everyone on staff knew what was happening, at least on the outside, but none of them could know about the battle ripping apart her insides, and she preferred to keep it that way.
She’d held herself together in front of Sophia and Emma and the reporters, but with each step another tiny part of her resolve cracked. Her feet fell heavy on stone floors, and each strike of her heel served as a drumbeat for her breakdown chant. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”
She didn’t even know where she was going until she skidded to a stop at the half-open door to the family chapel. She stared at the room she hadn’t entered in months. Suddenly, now felt like as good a time as any to call on a higher power.
Jaw clenched, fists balled, she stepped inside. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the muted light filtered through stained glass. She trained her gaze on the large cross hanging above the altar.
“Oh God,” she said more pointedly. “Please do not do this to me . . . again.”
She sank into the closest pew and hung her head. Her shoulders shook as the tension she’d carried there drained from her body.
“Please,” she muttered again, then glanced up. “Don’t make me choose. I’m not strong enough to do this again.”
Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she jumped up, wheeling around frantically to find her father standing in the doorway.
“Sorry to startle you,” he said, his tone soft and sad. “I’ll admit, I didn’t know how to announce my presence amid such piety. Anglicans aren’t generally prone to such passionate displays of faith.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to make light,” he said gently. “I envy your faith right now. It’ll serve you well if you hold onto it as you step into your future roles.”
She sank back into the pew. “I think what you meant to say was these little outbursts make me less fitted to my future roles.”
“No. I may not be the most passionate or powerful speaker, but I’m a man who chooses his words carefully.” He nodded to the pew. “May I join you?”
She shrugged and slid over to make space for him.
“I gather you’ve had a complex morning.”
“That’s a delicate way to describe my current state.”
“What would be a more apt description?”
“I don’t know.” A million incomplete thoughts flooded her brain. “I don’t know so many things, but especially how to spin my personal life into something palatable to the masses, which serves as yet another reminder of how ill-suited I am to the mantle on my shoulders.”
He frowned, then smiled. “Good.”
“Good?”
“The role you’re facing is a great paradox,” he said in the same patrician tone he’d used to try to explain advanced concepts like fishing treaties or deeded land rights when she’d been a little too young to fully understand them. “Those who feel entitled to assume the position and the responsibilities therein are generally the ones who least deserve it, whereas those who have most protested their worth tend to wear the responsibility best.”
She met his eyes, only a shade or two paler than her own. “Not you. You’ve been both worthy and have worn it well.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he said, a weariness seeping into his voice. “It reflects well on a man to have his children see him in an idealistic light, but I fear for your sake I must draw back the veil a bit, because I most certainly did not wear my title well for the first few years of my inheritance.”
She started to protest, but the sadness in his smile drew her up short.
“Your grandfather was a stern man with strong opinions.”
She chuckled. “I remember.”
“You remember him as a grandfather, and that’s quite enough for you, but as a son I always wilted in his shadow. He seemed so much larger than life, and I never quite lived up to his model of leadership. I was too much in my head, too much in my books. I wasn’t quick or decisive. I took time to ponder, to weigh, to measure.”
“All the things I don’t do?”
“All the things he didn’t do. It made me feel rather inadequate by comparison, and when he passed, I felt so unprepared to assume his place that I gave serious thought to abdication.”
“No.”
“I did,” he said plainly. “I met with three different solicitors, which is why I know how muddy your own inheritance situation is.”
“I assumed you’d done the research on my behalf.”
“Perhaps a better father would have, and even I would have eventually, but at first I couldn’t see past my own fear. Even after I learned how hard it would be to separate our family from the title, or the title from our ownings, I still may’ve tossed it all and run if not for your mother’s steady hand.”
Victoria’s stomach clenched at the mention of her mother, but her father continued in his soothing voice.
“She took to her role much better than I. She had even less preparation, but she possessed an iron will and a determination to learn. She made some early blunders, and the press was unrelenting in their criticism, but she refused to be cowed by it. She merely rededicated herself time and time again. She became an expert hostess and studied everything from state protocol to land management laws. Mostly, though, she studied people. She could examine situations I’d taken for granted my whole life and immediately discern all the hidden power dynamics.”
“That’s not surprising,” Vic said dryly.
“She became my confidante and my most trusted advisor. She challenged me to be better without making me feel incompetent. Slowly we developed a partnership that spoke to each of our strengths and public images.”
There was the whole public image concept again to pile on her current state of crisis. There was no getting around how essential the concept was to their way of life.
“Because of her I never actually had to learn how to be a duke in my own right, at least not as a stand-alone. From the day I ascended to the title I was merely half of the Duke and Duchess of Northland. I was part of a pair, a unit, indivisible. Looking back now, I realise the only real decision I ever had to make on my own was the one to marry your mother.”
Her chest ached again. “You were very lucky to be able to make that decision for yourself.”
He frowned. “You’ve had a much harder road than I in that area, but the world is changing quickly. You’ve still got time to find the person who will best help you settle in and bear the burden of your inheritance.”
Sophia’s face jumped into her memory, those dark eyes staring into hers last night as if seeing her for the first time. The image left her feeling anything but settled. Still, it did make her feel something powerful, something transformational.
“But what if my person, the one who challenges me to be better without ever making me feel lacking is . . . I don’t know, is there more to the partnership than social acumen?” She shook her head. She couldn’t keep dancing around the issue any longer, not here in a chapel beside the only person in the world who understood the stakes. “Are you in love with Mother?”
He stiffened beside her, and she glanced up to see an aggrieved expression on his face. “I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt a little that you had to ask, but yes, I am. I am not an overly demonstrative man, and maybe I don’t wear my feelings on my sleeve the way others do—”
“No,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean to imply you were somehow deficient. Of course you show love. My question, I only meant . . . Mother can be, well—”
“Ah.” He relaxed a little more into the pew as his expression softened. “Your mother is not an easy woman, but that’s all the more reason to admire her. She’s strong and complex, and she’s of her own mind. A weaker woman would’ve wilted under the kind of scrutiny this life carries; a weaker woman would’ve allowed me to surrender to my own weaknesses as well. I never wanted an ornamental rose to rest on my arm. I fell in love with your mother not in spite of her strong personality, but because of it.” He turned to her and smiled. “And I’m glad I did, because I see so much of her best qualities in you.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t.” He placed a hand atop hers. “Don’t let your conflicts blind you to her best qualities. If you do, it’ll be harder for you to respect those same traits in yourself.”
“I’m nothing like her.”
“She is strong-willed and principled, but also graceful and gifted at reading people.”
She snorted. “You must be in love to see those things. I’ve never once considered her a people-person.”
He laughed softly. “Understanding what drives people and letting them control you are very different things. Learning the difference isn’t easy, but it’s an invaluable skill.”
His words wiggled their way into her brain. “Even if I turn around and use it against her?”
He kissed her forehead gently. “Especially then.”
••••
Sophia crossed one leg over the other as she relaxed onto the settee in Vic’s sitting room. She hadn’t turned on the lights, but the cleaning staff had drawn back the curtains to offer a view of the courtyard and the evening sun hanging low above the castle walls. She could’ve gotten used to this vista. In fact, a part of her had grown accustomed to it without meaning to. She felt a little pinprick of annoyance at the fact that she’d even felt comfortable letting herself into this room, or anywhere in a castle, compounded by another quick shot of embarrassment that her comfort level hadn’t sent up red flags sooner. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had fleeting moments of awareness along the way. Maybe if she’d let herself dwell on how little she belonged in this place instead of always pushing those thoughts away or quelling them with her raw appetite for Vic, she might have saved everyone from what had to be done next. Then again, how could she ever have expected to develop the type of feelings she’d felt for Vic last night and this morning? Would she have undone them if she could?
No. Regrets carried no more appeal than apologies, which left her with little to do now but wait. Thankfully, the duchess’s social graces lent her to punctuality if nothing else.
She pushed open the door to the sitting room exactly as the large clock down the hallway struck eight o’clock.
Sophia didn’t rise as the duchess entered the room. She didn’t move at all, taking the moment before her presence was noticed to look past the dark pantsuit and imperial posture to survey the woman’s profile. She wore her hair back from her pale face with a severity that accentuated her high brow. Her chin and nose, though, weren’t as angular as they’d seemed head on. In fact, she had Vic’s chin, or perhaps it was the other way around. The way she lifted it and squared her shoulders when she realised she was being watched also reminded Sophia of Vic. Was that where she’d learned the move? Was it meant to project strength outward, or offer a form of self-protection? With Vic, she’d always suspected the latter. How many times had she needed to protect herself from this woman?
“Your Grace.” Sophia finally rose. “Thank you for joining me.”
The duchess arched an already high eyebrow. “Ms. LeBlanc. I merely received a message that my presence was requested in my daughter’s private quarters.”
“And you didn’t expect to find me here?” Sophia smiled coyly. “Why ever not?”
A hint of fire sparked in Lady Penchant’s dark eyes.
“I thought that perhaps since it’s just the two of us tonight, we could move past the pretense. How about we start by not pretending we aren’t both aware how many nights I’ve spent in here.” Sophia gestured toward the settee. “Please, have a seat.”
She didn’t move. “Where’s Victoria?”
“Working,” Sophia said. “Undoubtedly trying to find a way to put out the fire you and James set with your phone calls this morning.”
The duchess pursed her lips.
“Did you not know we’d put that together? Surely someone was meant to, right? You didn’t give anyone enough information to actually catch Vic and me together, so I suspect that wasn’t the point. Maybe you wanted to remind us you had the power, and that’s why you made little attempt to hide your tracks. Or perhaps you’re not used to needing to hide them. Everyone around here jumps when you snap. Speaking of which, would you like a drink?”
“No.” The duchess’s eyes narrowed as her surprise faded back into a detached sort of disdain. “I don’t think I’ll be staying long enough to enjoy one.”
“Just as well,” Sophia shrugged. “I’ll admit I’m not much of a bartender. I’m used to having my drinks poured for me. Maybe that’s one of the few things you and I have in common. We both expect a certain amount of deference in our dealings. Is that what offended you deeply enough to wound your own daughter? That I didn’t scurry away when you fired the first shot across my bow?”
“Oh dear, did you think that had to do with you?” The duchess laughed lightly. “One must get used to being the centre of attention in your line of work, but I’m afraid you’ll find me much less prone to fits of passion.”
“That’s certainly not the impression you’ve given over the last few days, what with your dramatic re-entry, the passive-aggressive movie night, and the paparazzi chase you orchestrated. I have to admit I’m a little disappointed, though.”
“It would seem to me that someone of your background would have such low standards you’d have a hard time being let down.”
Sophia grinned at the little zinger. “That’s better. So far everything you’ve levelled at me has been so basic, I’d begun to worry you didn’t have it in you to really get your hands dirty.”
“I generally leave the dirt to the cleaning staff.” She gave a bored sigh. “Which might be why you feel experienced enough to speak about such things, but again, I apologise if I gave you the wrong impression. In fact, I never intended to give you any impression at all, much less a personal one.”
“Then you do a poor job conveying your intentions.”
“Perhaps my lack of concern for you led to the misunder-standing. I hold you in no more contempt than I would any other inconvenient house guest, and I assure you, there have been many of them over the years,” the duchess continued airily. “They’ve always left on their own. I’ve no reason to believe you won’t do the same. Then we’ll all breathe a sigh of relief before moving on without ever thinking of you again.”
She had to admit, the duchess was good at the whole ice-queen routine. In fact, if Sophia had been a dispassionate observer, she would probably believe the woman held no stake in this discussion at all. It would certainly make Sophia’s life easier if that were true, but unfortunately this wasn’t just about her life. She could still see the sad resolve in Vic’s eyes as she left to face the press head-on this morning. Vic hadn’t wanted to choose between Sophia and her birthright. She shouldn’t have had to. She wouldn’t have had to if not for the woman talking down to Sophia now.
“I imagine it’s easy to overestimate your influence when you don’t know your place on the larger stage of events. You have money, a modicum of fame, a certain amount of power in your small circle. I can admire, at least in theory, that you made it all yourself, but you’ll also undoubtedly squander it all yourself, which again matters little to me because it’s your concern.” She paused for the ice in her voice to register fully as she said, “My daughter, however, is very much my concern.”
“Oh, I see.” Sophia smiled.
“I doubt you do.”
“You’re worried I’ll lessen the influence you have over her.”
The duchess laughed again, and disturbingly enough, the sound seemed genuine this time. “The fact that you think so shows how little you understand.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Impossible. Your worldview is so small it cannot conceive of something outside your own control, but trust me, Victoria can. Her life has never been her own, and it never will be. I thought she’d learned those lessons, but apparently she’s forgotten them for the moment.”
“So you decided to remind her?”
A little muscle in the duchess’s jaw twitched. “I tried to do so privately, and I’ll admit I was surprised by her reaction.”
“You underestimate her strength.”
“You and I have a different understanding of strength.” The duchess eyed her more closely, then wrinkled her nose. “You must have some skills I don’t even want to imagine in order to get your hooks in deeply enough for her to overlook your distasteful past and continued poor judgement.”
Sophia’s face flamed, not at the mention of her past, but at the implication that the only connection between her and Vic must be blind lust.
“But ultimately, you and I both know you’ll be gone in a matter of weeks, or even sooner if you allow your professional life to spin out of control like you have over the last few days.”
Sophia’s jaw tightened.
“Oh, did you not know I knew about your problems at work?” The duchess threw Sophia’s own echo back at her. “You’re not the only one with a finger on the pulse of what’s happening around here. My question is why someone with your background would be willing to risk everything she’d fought for— unless, of course, she believed she had something to gain from it.”
Sophia bit her tongue, but she didn’t need to. She had no quick retort to offer. The duchess had just given voice to the questions she should’ve been asking herself all along. The movie, her goals, the steps she needed to take to achieve them, she’d never let her focus slip before, and yet she’d spent the last two days wrapped up in Vic and her legacy while her own life’s work began to unravel at the seams. What could she possibly stand to gain?
