Page 69 of Ardently Yours

I force a smile. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Rose guides me across the ballroom. To my surprise, she heads straight for the doors. Maybe we’re headed for the restrooms.Nope. We walk right past them.

Rose has her own security officer, subtly present behind us. Rose doesn’t speak as we walk down the corridor. Finally, the man opens a door, then ushers Rose and me inside.

The room we enter appears to be some kind of parlor with a fireplace and expensive leather seating arrangements. The guard stays inside the room, standing like a statue in front of the closed door.

Rose indicates a chair. “Let’s get to know one another.”

When we’re both seated, she leans forward, her hands clasped loosely together. “You strike me as a straightforward, practical woman.”

“I suppose,” I say.

She smiles. “I like you. I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect to.”

“Thank you?”

Briefly, she brandishes a fist. “You’re salt of the earth. Loud and tacky, but very entertaining.”

Lovely.

She leans back. “This is a complicated situation. My son is fascinated by you, and I can see why.”

Suddenly, the mask on my face feels like a cage. I take it off and place it on my knee. In this light, the gemstones look like blood and tears.

She plucks several tissues from a wooden box on the table beside her and passes them over.

I accept, but frown in confusion. “What are these for?”

“I’m going to explain some things to you, and they may hurt,” she says gently.

I straighten my spine.First Phyllis, then his mother?These people are starting to tick me off. “This event was a one-time thing for us, so if you’re going to warn me to keep my tacky self away from your parties, don’t bother.”

Her brow knits. “I would never be so crass. But the truth is, your behavior is appalling. Your laugh is too loud. You trip around the dance floor like a toddler. Your accent is atrocious. When you take your seat, you wiggle like a fish in a net. You squatted to speak to Marcus Harcourt’s child like an umpire behind home plate.”

“Okay, that’s not fair. I absolutely kept my knees together,” I say.

She continues as though I didn’t speak. “My bigger concern is the behavior you’ve inspired in my son. In one evening, Arden was driven to risk his career—more, his reputation and convictions—to defend you.”

She shakes her head. “You drew conflict to you like a moth to a flame. You weren’t one of us, so they pushed and prodded and poked. At the very least, Arden should have had your teeth fixed before bringing you into the lion’s den.”

An agony of humiliation roars through me. “It sounds like you’re blaming me for the bad behavior of your guests,” I say coolly.

She shakes her head. “It’s an explanation of cause and effect. These men can’t compete with Arden in any other way. Not that my son feels he’s in a competition. They’re no one to him, which, I suppose, is the point.”

She adjusts in her seat in one graceful motion, shifting her weight from her left hip to her right, knees together, one ankle tucked behind the other. “When my son brought you here, those men recognized you as a chink in his armor. If they could embarrass him by using or humiliating you . . . they’d consider it scoring a point.” She takes a deep breath. “This is where you leave me conflicted. You stood beside him, rather than cower behind. I admire that.”

She waves an elegant hand. “The people who heard you speak will relay your words as fact, even the parts that were supposition.”

“No offense, but it hasn’t been my experience that folks take what I say as gospel.”

“You combined things you had no way of knowing with undeniable truth.” Genuine mirth briefly lights her eyes. “Arden does have much better hair. In the end, Mr. Jamison’s reaction clinched public perception. You humiliated him in spectacular fashion. No one who hears of it will risk joining his ranks by crossing you. You’re no longer a viable path to torment Arden. That’s no easy feat. His late wife never achieved it.”

“I don’t like bullies,” I say.

She nods. “If you’d needed to rely on my son to defend you, he’d have had to spend every moment rushing to protect you. If you’d laughed it away, it would have been taken as tacit approval of their behavior.”

She gives me a stern look. “I do wish you hadn’t chosen that moment to refer to themaleorganor use foul language.There are ways to handle these situations with class.” She lifts her fingers to her pearls.

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