Page 5 of The Fiancée Farce
“Tansy,sweetheart, do you want to tell them?”
Goose bumps broke out along her skin.Tansyandsweetheartdidn’t belong in the same sentence. Tansy was nobody’s sweetheart. Until five minutes ago, as far as Gemma van Dalen was concerned, Tansywasnobody.
“Um.” She didn’t have a clue what was happening. She didn’t understand the question, let alone why Gemma was playing along with her lie, with herhair. Why she hadn’t taken one look at Tansy, wrinkled her nose, and told everyone the truth: that she didn’t know her.
“On second thought, let me.” Gemma stole Tansy’s champagne and tipped it toward Tucker, smile broadening, as breathtaking as it was bewildering.
Tansy held her breath, chest burning.
“I can’t think of a more timely, auspicious moment to share our good news than your wedding, Tucker.”
The color leached from Tucker’s face, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the back of the empty chair in front of him. Madison shot him a frantic look.
“After six magical months together, I asked Tansy averyimportant question.” Gemma reached for Tansy’s hand. She turned it over and brushed a featherlight kiss against the fragile skin of Tansy’s wrist. “Tansy, here, has agreed to marry me.”
Chapter Two
Just like that, all hell broke loose.
“Married?” Madison’s friend—the one sporting a god-awful shiner, whose name Gemma couldn’t remember, and didn’t care to—screeched.
If the guests weren’t already staring, they certainly were now.
“You’re fucking kidding me.” Tucker’s obnoxiously square jaw clenched. His eyes, the same flinty blue as his father’s, were already scanning the crowd, no doubt searching fordaddyto come fix this, the way Sterling fixedeverythingfor Tucker. Brat. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at—”
“Ow.” She lifted a hand to her chest, feigning injury. “That hurts, Tucker. I hoped you’d be happy for me.”
Gemma smothered a laugh, barely able to keep her composure as the vein at Tucker’s temple pulsed, his face purpling. He was always so easily riled, always rising to the bait. Good to know that some things in this world never changed, that at least the ease with which she could provoke her cousin could be counted on, ever constant.
Though, come to think of it, Tucker was looking exceedingly apoplectic. More furious than she’d anticipated at the news of her impending nuptials. Or maybe, given his initial reaction to learningshe was supposedly embroiled in a six-month relationship, it was news of Gemma’s impending nuptials toTansy. Interesting.Veryinteresting. Gemma would file that observation away for later.
Save for fanning her face obnoxiously with both hands, Madison kept her cool surprisingly—ah, spoke too soon. Like something out of a poorly staged junior high play, Madison swooned, swaying and sagging as if her strings had been cut. Utterly self-absorbed, Tucker very nearly let his new bride hit the floor, catching her at the last second with a pained grunt and muttered swear.
“Madison!” Whatsherface stood with a shout.
“Oh dear.” Madison’s aunt fluttered about anxiously. “Someone dosomething.”
Reaching across the table, Jackie grabbed a glass of champagne and threw it at Madison.
“What thefuck, Jackie?” Madison shrieked, remarkably coherent for having just fainted.
Voices rose, everyone speaking at once, no one bothering to listen, as the reception devolved into complete and total chaos.
Amidst the pandemonium, forgotten in the center of it all, Tansy sat silently, pink lips parted, big blue eyes round and unblinking. Shell-shocked.
Gemma tilted her head, stealing a second to study her brand-spankin’-new fiancée.
The long, dark hair she’d swept up in a bun was coming undone, too thick even for the combination of claw-clip and bobby pins she’d used in an unsuccessful attempt to tame it into submission. Tendrils floated freely around her ears and the sides of her heart-shaped face, flirting idly with the edge of her jaw and the neckline of her truly odious cardigan.
To be perfectly frank, Tansy wasn’t the sort of someone Gemma would’ve glanced at twice under any other circumstances. But theseparticular circumstances being what they were, unusual, Gemmawaslooking. Inspecting. Because she must. And, hmm. Well, well, well.Appreciating.Because she could. It was easy to see the harried updo and fugly cardigan for what they were—camouflage. As if Tansy wanted to disappear into mediocrity. As if she believed an old sweater could do the trick.
Despite the grandma cardigan buttoned to practically her chin, it was plain to see Tansy was pretty. A touch timid, not exactly Gemma’s type, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Gemma’s type was there for a good time, not a long time. Just how Gemma preferred it.
Until now.
Now her proclivity for temporary was a problem. Now, preferences be damned, her only type needed to be marriageable. Moreover, bewillingto marry her, willing tostaymarried to her for two years, capable of keeping a secret, and accepting that the only happily-ever-after Gemma was interested in entailed inheriting what was rightfully hers.
With such simple requirements, Gemma had figured the list of candidates would be lengthy, her choice of spouse just that—a choice. And yet here she was, ring finger worrisomely bare, a deadline to wed breathing down her neck, pickings slim, prospects grim.
