Page 100 of Provocation
I eat slowly, savoring every bite in spite of the negatives. Might as well getsomethingout of this.
The dessert, when it comes, is a small meringue nest filled with fruit. The texture isn't very nice. Too soggy, but I eat most of it, keeping my back straight and my expression pleasant.
‘So, Marguerite. How is school?’ Joe asks.
‘It’s great,’ I say.
‘English literature, right?’
I nod. I don’t look at Marcus. He knows the truth, but we made a deal, after all, and he hasn’t yet come to collect, so I hope he’ll keep his mouth shut.
‘Do you go to Birchmore Academy?’ Lizzie asks me.
‘No, LiLi, she’s at Richmond U, remember?’ Joseph says patronizingly to her with his brows raised. ‘Isn’t that right, Marguerite?’
‘College?’ Lizzie asks breathily. ‘Wow. I wanted to go, but father and Joe said it wouldn’t be good for me.’
‘Not a good fit,’ Mrs. Banderville agrees, speaking for the first time at the table.
‘Not a good fit?’ I echo.
She shakes her head but doesn’t elaborate.
‘I’m sure you’ve heard about our family rules when it comes to our ladies’ safety,’ Joseph says with a condescending smile my way. ‘I was surprised that your father allowed you to go.’
‘Come now, Father,’ Joe laughs. ‘I’m sure Marguerite’s fine doing her little arts degree. She has her stepbrother right there to keep an eye on her and a little Shakespeare never hurt anyone.’
Ugh. Wrong!
‘Quite,’ I say softly, not trusting myself to say much more than that.
‘And, of course, all that will be finished once we get married in the Spring.’ He waves a flippant hand. ‘You definitely won’t have time, not even for literature classes.’
My eyes turn to him sitting next to me. ‘Quit college before I get my degree?’ I ask.
‘Of course,’ he says with a laugh. ‘You’re, what, a sophomore? My wife won’t be going toschool. There will be plenty to keep you busy as my wife. You’ll have your duties to me, and the family.’’
He doesn’t know I’m a senior either.
And duties?
My eye twitches, but I nod. ‘Right.’
I’m so glad I’m not actually marrying this asshole.
‘Little arts degree.’ Fuck him!
Next to me, Elizabeth has fallen silent, staring down at her plate as it’s cleared away by a member of their staff.
Joseph, at the head of the table, stands and his wife follows suit, signaling the end of the meal.
The men go into what I assume is a smoking room, or something since in this house it’s the year 1700, and I go with Lizzie and her mother back to the drawing room.
Mrs. Banderville takes my hands and gives them such a hard squeeze that I wonder if it’s a cry for help, but when she lets go and takes a step back, she’s giving me another placid smile.
‘You don't know how glad I am to have you with us, my dear,’ she murmurs. ‘Your mother was a great woman.’
I give her a nod. ‘She was, Mrs. Banderville.’
