Page 114 of Three Weeks with a Princess
Lia rolled her eyes. According to Granny, she’d been a biddable child with a sunny disposition. Perhaps that was her real problem—she’d always been too accommodating, trying to please everyone else instead of herself.
“That’s not how I remember it. And stop avoiding the question, Mama. Yes, it’s ancient history, but I want to know why you embarked on an affair with Lord John. It seems an entirely demented decision.”
Her mother bristled. “Ancient is hardly the term I would apply to myself, my girl. Goodness, you make me sound like an old crone.”
How predictable that her mother would focus on her vanity rather than the pain her actions had caused other people. “Mama . . .” she said in a warning tone.
“Very well. I was lonely, Lia. You and Rebecca had departed for the north with Lord Lendale and I’d recently broken off with my lover. I was out of sorts and . . . and a bit frightened, if you must know the truth. I felt very alone.”
“I didn’t realize that,” Lia said, disconcerted. “I thought you were relieved to see us go.”
Her mother’s hands fluttered to her lap, her fingers twisting into an anxious knot. “Relievedis not precisely the right word. Yes, it was sometimes inconvenient to have a child in the house, but it was more than that. Before I was able to finally make my living as an actress, I needed a paramour to protect and support me. I wished you to be raised in a more . . . a more normal atmosphere. Your grandmother agreed with me.”
“So you actually missed me?” Lia asked softly.
“Of course I did. I loved you.” She flashed her a misty smile. “I still love you.”
Lia’s throat tightened. “I missed you, too.”
“Thank you, darling, but we mustn’t get too sentimental about bygone days. It all worked out for the best, did it not?”
“That remains to be seen. You still haven’t told me why you took up with Lord John. Aside from everything else, his pockets were rather moth-ridden, from what I understand. He certainly wasn’t a practical choice.”
“No, but he was a charming one, and so very handsome. He obviously sensed I was lonely and began courting me. He was very good at that, as I’m sure you’ve heard.” She gave Lia a roguish wink. “Andhe was an excellent lover. I can only hope Jack is as accomplished in that regard as his father.”
That was not a comparison Lia wished to think about—ever. “So you’re saying Lord John took advantage of your loneliness? That seems caddish of him, given that Granny was already involved with his brother. He had to know how upsetting it would be for everyone, especially his wife.”
Mama rolled her lips together and went back to fidgeting with her makeup.
Lia felt disappointment in the pit of her stomach. “You wanted it, too, didn’t you?”
“And why not?” her mother asked in a defiant burst. “Wasn’t I good enough for him? Aren’t any of us good enough for those blasted Lendale men? I gave up my own daughter into Lord Lendale’s protection.” Her beautiful eyes were hard with resentment. “Lendale was devoted to your grandmother, or so he claimed. Yet she wasn’t good enough for him to marry, was she? Rebecca gave upeverythingfor him, Lia. So what was wrong with my taking a little of what the Kincaids were due from that bloody, stuck-up family?”
Nowthatmade sense. Her mother had always been a canny businesswoman and would never have taken up with a penniless aristocrat simply because he was handsome or an accomplished lover.
“It was revenge you were after,” Lia said.
Her mother threw her a scowl. “We were good enough to bed but not good enough to marry. Good enough to dally with but not good enough to bear their children.” She fisted a hand and pounded it on the table, causing the little containers of rouge and powder to shake. “No, it was only the pure English roses who were worthy of marriage to the Lendale men, not common whores like the Kincaids.”
Her mother’s outburst was raw and sour, like bitter garlic, and Lia’s heart ached for her. Resentment had festered for too long for both the Kincaidandthe Easton women. Their men had betrayed them time and again, leaving deep wounds. While Jack had treated them all with true affection and respect, even he couldn’t seem to drain the infection.
Lia sighed. “Good Lord, this is worse thanRomeo and Juliet.”
“Ha. I’d like to poison the lot of them. Except Jack, of course,” her mother said hastily.
“I understand, Mama, but we weren’t the only ones who were hurt. There was Jack and Lady Anne, too, and especially Lady John. She didn’t deserve to be humiliated by you and Lord John.”
Her mother waved a dismissive hand. “I know you would like to think so for Jack’s sake. But she treated your grandmother and me like dirt. Rebecca was never anything but respectful and utterly discreet, and yet Lady John treated her like she was a common whore. That bloody woman deserved a little of her own back and I was glad to give it to her.”
Lia pressed thumbs to her throbbing temples. So much anger had been handed down from one generation to the next. How could she and Jack possibly bridge that divide? The idea of her mother and Lady John even standing in the same room together seemed utterly impossible.
“Do you have a headache?” her mother asked in a puzzled voice.
Lia dropped her hands into her lap. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
Both a headache and a heartache that she was beginning to suspect would never go away. Her mother hadn’t simply slipped into a foolish, brief affair with Jack’s father—it had been a deliberate act intended to cause maximum pain. Lady John would never forgive that, nor would Lia expect her to.
Her mother reached out and touched a fluttering hand to Lia’s cheek. “Now, darling, there’s no need to be mopey about what happened in the dreary old past, and don’t worry about Lady John. You’re as good as any girl in the Ton. Better, in fact, because your father is the Duke of York himself. And Jack actually wishes to marry you, which is simply splendid. If you want my advice—”
