Chapter 16
PROPER
RORY
“Miss Rory, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” the maid said, her tone scolding. Her name was Francesca, and she’d picked out my pink satin dress that morning. She was bossy and vaguely condescending. I’d noticed her frowning at me when she thought I wasn’t looking.
“Sorry, I was outside.”
“Follow me, Miss. We need to get you ready for dinner in the rear salon.” She marched into my suite, and I had no choice but to follow.
“Dinner is formal tonight, so you’re expected to wear a gown,” she announced. She opened the wardrobe to reveal a long, slinky black dress with a jewel-encrusted trim.
“That’s kind of… tight looking,” I mumbled.
“It will be perfect. Please go and bathe, then I will assist you with your hair and makeup.” Francesca didn’t sound as if she was taking no for an answer, so I obliged.
When I stepped out of the shower, I noticed that she’d already laid out undergarments for me. Except they weren’t really undergarments; they were strings. And there was no bra! I put the thong on, feeling ridiculous, and tightened a robe around my waist.
Francesca knocked on the door. “Miss, are you ready for me? We need to get a move on.”
“Sure,” I said, feeling bullied.
The maid threw the door open, plopped me down into a chair, and started blow-drying my hair.
She worked thoroughly, meticulously, and then started flat-ironing before I had a chance to object.
I preferred to wear my hair in its natural state—wavy and sort of a mess—because I hated sitting for so long.
But Francesca didn’t seem inclined to care.
When she’d finished with my hair, she started dotting concealer onto my face, then foundation, powder, blush, eyeliner, the works. I opened my mouth to protest but she only dabbed more lip gloss on me.
“There. That’s perfect.” The maid stepped back, pleased with her work.
But when I glimpsed my reflection in the mirror, I grimaced. She’d done a smoky eye, three coats of mascara, and heavily rouged my cheeks. The lipstick she’d chosen was a dark red. “Don’t you think that’s a bit much for family dinner?”
She scowled. “Not at Barrington Manor, Miss. Now, into your dress. You don’t want to keep them waiting.”
I stepped into the dress and was alarmed to see that it was backless. No wonder there was no bra! I felt so exposed. Sky-high heels completed the look. The dress was designer, as were the shoes—I was certain that my outfit cost a small fortune. But I didn’t feel comfortable in it.
“Isn’t there something else I can wear?” I begged Francesca.
She rolled her eyes. “Not if you want to be any later than you already are. Cocktails were at six—you’re late.”
“What? Oh, my goodness.” Rhodes was a bear about being punctual, I knew that.
“Follow me,” she instructed.
I followed her down the maze of hallways until we reached the back of the manor. “The rear salon is right through there. Enjoy your evening, Miss.”
Did I imagine it, or did the maid smirk a bit as she turned on her heel?
Confused, I headed into the salon. But as soon as I crossed the threshold, I longed to turn around and run straight back to my room.
The space was bright and airy, open to an immense patio. Early evening sunlight streamed into the salon, which was filled with Rhodes, Luke, Maria, Miranda, and half a dozen other people I didn’t recognize.
Everyone was dressed casually in light-colored shorts and slacks, polos, and cotton dresses.
They were enjoying summery cocktails and chatting.
Luke was off by himself, happily playing with a small toy.
The scent of barbecue wafted through the room.
I caught a glimpse of Philips on the back patio—even the butler had ditched his tuxedo for a white button down shirt and a preppy pink tie.
This was no formal dinner in the salon. This was the people-with-money version of a laid-back barbecue.
I stood there, an overdressed deer in the headlights.
Miranda spotted me first. She wore a mint green polo dress with the collar popped and pristine white sneakers. She wrinkled her nose as she took in my outfit. “That gown’s a bit much—isn’t it, dear?” she tittered.
“Um…”
I wobbled in my heels as Rhodes caught sight of me. His brow furrowed until he snapped himself out of it and approached. “Rory, darling! So glad you joined us.” He made a big show of kissing me, but I wasn’t pretending when I shivered as his lips touched mine.
“You look lovely.” He lowered his voice as he continued, “But just so you know, it’s barbecue night. Very low-key. And we had several members of the board arrive unexpectedly. They’re staying with us until the meetings next week.”
“Oh no.” I felt so stupid. “The maid picked this out—”
“Then I will be sure to fire her, even though I’m a fan of that dress.” He plastered on a fake smile and turned to face the guests.
“I’m pleased to announce the arrival of my fiancé, Rory Harris. Rory was thoughtful to dress well enough for both of us,” he said, laughing and motioning to his casual shorts and shirt. “Clearly, she’s already perfecting being my better half.”
“Here, here!” Called one of the board members, raising his glass. “Congratulations, you two! To your marriage, and to your health!”
Miranda’s nostrils flared as they toasted us.
Rhodes brought me into the circle of board members, introducing me. I smiled broadly, shook hands, and tried to ignore the fact that I wore no bra and my entire back was on display.
The board members wasted no time questioning me.
“Where did you two meet?”
“When’s the wedding?”
“Where are you from?”
“Where’d you go to school?”
“How’d you convince this perennial bachelor to settle down?”
“Easy, easy,” Rhodes chided. He slid his arm around me, our bare skin touching, and my stomach somersaulted. “Don’t frighten her away, okay? We met at a party in Manhattan. One look at her, and I just knew.”
He turned to me, beaming, and I melted. He was so handsome, he was magnetic. I beamed back.
“The wedding invitations are going out tomorrow,” Rhodes continued. “The ceremony’s next week. So it’s a good thing you’re already all here.”
“Wow!”
“So soon?”
“Are you having the ceremony at Barrington Manor?”
“Your father would’ve loved that.”
Rhodes gamely fielded questions as Miranda watched, eyes narrowed.
Two of the female board members circled me.
They were both in their late forties or early fifties, attractive and fit, wearing watches that probably cost more than a private college tuition.
“Let’s see that ring, honey,” one of them said in a Southern drawl.
I held out my hand, and they both gasped.
“I know,” I said, peering at them. “I had the same reaction.”
“You must be a very special young lady,” the other woman said. She eyed me up and down. “And you might be overdressed tonight, but if I had a body like yours? I’d be wearing the same damn thing.”
“Oh, ha.” I coughed, embarrassed. “Thanks.”
“Rory!” Luke zoomed to me, burying his face in my dress. He might’ve been wiping his nose on it. “Hi!”
“Hi, bud!” I ruffled his hair and laughed as he hugged me, leaving a huge, unrecognizable smear on my gown. Was it paste? Snot? Play-dough? The possibilities were endless, but I couldn’t care less. “I finally saw the pool. You want to go tomorrow?”
“Yes!” He jumped up and down, clutching me and yanking my dress. I didn’t mind, but Maria swept in.
“I am so sorry.” She gently pulled his hands away. “He got something on your gown, oh my goodness, let me get a napkin—”
“Maria.” I smiled and shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. Please.”
The women started chatting to me again as Maria gently took Luke aside, kneeling down and talking to him.
“It’s so amazing that the wedding’s so soon,” the board member said. “Was your family surprised?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Are they able to be here on such short notice?” asked the other woman.
“Unfortunately, no.” I shook my head. “They’re traveling at the moment.”
“Oh, really? Whereabouts?”
“Um…” I racked my brain. The only place we ever traveled was the Dollar Store in the next town over. “Paris, actually.”
Maria jerked her head, watching me.
Realizing my mistake, I blushed. But it was too late. “They’re in… Paris.”
“Aw, Paris is lovely this time of year…”
The conversation prattled on, but I was keenly aware of my blunder. Maria’s family was in Paris—not mine. I only prayed she didn’t fixate on my comment, though she’d appeared surprised.
It was another unfortunate occurrence that Miranda snagged the seat immediately next to mine as we sat for dinner.
Rhodes was engaged in a long conversation with several of the board members; he didn’t notice as she slithered in next to me.
As if I wasn’t uncomfortable enough in the dress, surrounded by wealthy and accomplished people in their best casual clothes, about to somehow eat barbecue without making a mess of myself.
“Interesting gown choice,” she purred as she accepted anther pink spritzer from the server. “It’s not leaving much to the imagination.”
“It wasn’t my pick. The maid told me to wear it.”
“Hmm. I should give her a raise.” Miranda sipped her drink, the cat that had tricked the canary into wearing a stupidly formal and revealing dress.
“I don’ think you’ll be able to—Rhodes’s firing her.”
“Pity,” Miranda said blithely.
Luke popped up between us. “Rory, Maria says to say goodnight.”
I beamed at him. “Good night, buddy.”
“Pool tomorrow?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
He started to run away, but Miranda snatched his wrist. “Ow!”
“Did you forget to say goodnight to your grandmother?” she asked, in a fake-nice voice.
“G’night!”
She released him and he ran for it.
She looked at me coolly. “They boy’s been through a lot. You shouldn’t pretend to be kind to him—it’ll just end up hurting him in the end.”
“I’m not pretending.”
Miranda arched a well-groomed eyebrow. “You’re not fooling anyone, young lady. Take a look around.” She motioned to the other guests. They were confident, using big words about important things, and they were comfortable at Barrington Manor, surrounded by crystal, staff, and antiques.
“You don’t belong here. You never will. Rhodes might think that checking a few boxes will secure his future, but I know the truth: he’ll never be the man his father was, or William.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” I said, surprised at her blunt cruelty.
“The truth hurts, as they say.” She shrugged. “But you’ll see for yourself soon enough. There’s a reason he was alone for so long. There’s a reason both his father and brother insisted he marry in order to take on more responsibilities.
“Rhodes Barrington is a child. You can put a child in a suit and call him a man, just like you can put a ring on a finger and call someone a bride. But the truth always comes out in the end.”
“Miranda, are you bullying my fiancé?” Rhodes interrupted, suddenly looming over us.
I breathed out a huge sigh of relief: I’d never been so happy to see my fake fiancé in my life.