CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE – HATTIE #2
“I was going to, but things were so busy, then I ran into Jasmine the other day,” I trail off, leaving the rest of my thought unsaid. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Of course not.” Her smile is as sharp and insincere as her gaze. “This is your home, too, after all.”
I glance around the foyer at all the photos that don’t include me. “Allegedly.”
Dad clears his throat. “Come and sit down in the dining room. Dinner will be ready soon. We have a few things to talk about.”
I bet we do.
More like he wants to talk while I’m forced to listen to him.
Still, I follow him into the dining room. A tight, uncomfortable air settles around us as Rosalyn takes up the rear, and it’s an atmosphere that only darkens when Jasmine looks up from her phone and sees me.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s nice to see you, too,” I reply, ignoring the sharp edge to her voice. “I’m here for dinner. This is my home, too, apparently.”
Dad shoots me a confused look. No wonder—I’ve never spoken to her like this in front of him. He’s used to me being demure and subservient, not snarky and biting.
Boy, is he in for a fun night.
I no longer need to hold back.
I no longer need to pretend to be the good little daughter he thinks I am.
Well, he thought I was. I’m pretty sure I wrecked that little fantasy when I walked out on Finn’s arm.
Dad sits at the head of the table, and I take the chair next to him on the opposite side of the table to Jasmine. Rosalyn sits immediately across from me, eyeing me carefully as she makes herself comfortable.
“So,” Dad says, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “How have you been? Have you settled in well at the palace?”
“Yes, I have,” I reply softly. “Everyone has been exceptionally kind to me, especially Her Majesty. I’m very grateful to everyone for making the transition as easy as possible.”
“Good. That’s good.” He pauses. “And your… relationship… with Crown Prince Finley? It’s good?”
“Very much so.” I smile, tucking some of my hair behind my ear in a shy way I know will piss Jasmine off immensely. “He’s been wonderful.”
“I’m sure. He’s an impressive young man. A real credit to our country.” He pauses again, and I’m sure he’s carefully considering his next words. “What about the wedding? Has Her Majesty discussed anything with you?”
Rosalyn clears her throat and nods towards the door. The scent of roast chicken fills the room as the plates are brought in, and I do as she wishes by keeping quiet while the food is served.
It’s an answer she doesn’t want to hear.
Everything is quietly laid out before us, but the moment we’re left alone, Rosalyn says, “Let’s eat before we talk. It’s always easier on a full stomach.”
And just like that, the conversation about the wedding is over before it’s even begun.
Exactly as I expected.
Still, I behave. I acknowledge her words with a smile and start eating, following my father’s lead. He’ll never stand up to her, and it’s long past time for me to accept that.
It’s not the only thing I need to accept.
I’m not truly a part of this family.
I never have been.
I merely share some DNA with two of the people sitting at this table, and DNA does not make a family.
In the past few weeks since the engagement was decided, I’ve been reminded of what family really is. Of the love, care, and support that should go hand in hand with it—something I’ve never been offered in this house.
Even now, as my conversation has been pushed to the backburner under the guise of eating, Jasmine talks.
She chatters away as if a quiet meal was never proposed, and I have no idea what she’s rabbiting on about.
It’s utterly inconsequential and interests me about as much as a needle to the eye, but it’s another reminder of the difference between us.
My wedding? Not important.
Jasmine’s daily tittering? Absolutely vital for survival, apparently.
Keep it in. Keep it in. Keep it in.
I can’t be emotional. I can’t let my heart overrule my head. If I get angry or upset, they win, because that’s what they want. I can do that later when I’m with someone who genuinely cares about me.
This is not the time. This is not the place.
This house will never be.
By some miracle, we make it to the end of the meal. I haven’t listened to a word Jasmine has said, but she’s still yammering on about something when we move into the living room and my father pours himself a drink.
He turns to me and holds up the bottle, wordlessly offering me one. I refuse with a gentle shake of my head, and he replaces the whiskey before taking a seat on the sofa next to Rosalyn who’s just poured her and Jasmine a glass of wine without so much as a glance in my direction.
Wise.
There’s a chance I’ll end up throwing it over one of them in this conversation.
“So, the wedding,” my father says the moment Jasmine pauses to catch her breath. “Has Her Majesty set a date?”
“I believe we’re looking at late September,” I reply, clasping my hands in my lap. “As soon as she’s finalised it with the government, she’ll contact you.”
“Very well.” He nods once, and a heavy silence falls over the room.
He has more questions.
Ones he doesn’t want to ask.
Ones he knows he needs to ask.
“Have you thought this through, my dear?” Rosalyn asks, her face the picture of concern. Her tone is sickly sweet; the same one she always uses when she’s trying to show my father she cares. “It’s a great deal of responsibility, and I fear it’ll be too much for you.”
Ah.
So, this is the angle she’s going for.
“Yes,” I say, swinging my gaze to meet hers. “I have a great deal of support in the palace. Both Lord Oscar and the Duke of Kilon have been guiding me, as well as the Royal Family, of course. I’m not concerned.”
“That’s good.” Her smile doesn’t meet her eyes. In fact, it barely registers on her face, but she’s trying.
Impressive, given how she got that angry little jaw tick when I mentioned Alec.
“You’re so delicate, that’s all. What with everything you went through… All those panic attacks… I do worry.”
Jasmine fights back a smile as she dips her head.
“Yes, I’m sure you do.” I keep my tone measured. “So you’ll be pleased to know that since I moved to the palace, I’ve had less panic attacks, and Finn is looking into other avenues of support for me. I’m doing better than I have in a long time.”
She clenches her jaw before she catches herself and forces yet another smile.
“That’s good. Excellent news, darling,” my father says. “I had the same fears, I won’t lie.”
“What about you, Jas?” I ask innocently, turning to her. “I know you’ve been struggling lately, especially since I last saw you.”
She freezes, then slowly spins to meet my gaze. “What are you talking about? I’m fine.”
“Oh, you just seemed stressed when we ran into each other at Lammens,” I say breezily.
“You know, when you hit me. I understand that Finn getting engaged to me instead of you was quite the shock, and I never really got a chance to apologise for keeping everything quiet the way I did. I wondered if you needed to speak to someone about everything going on.”
She presses her lips into a thin line. “You know exactly why I hit you. You provoked me with that saccharine bullshit act of yours.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That!” She throws her arm in the air. “You’re sitting here acting like you’re all innocent as if you didn’t ruin my life, but when we were at Lammens, you were griping in my ear about how I’ll never compare to you.”
“Oh.” I frown. “I’m sorry if you took my words that way. I didn’t mean that at all.”
“You outright said it!”
“Girls, girls,” Dad says, holding up a hand. “What happened, happened. It’s time for us to move on.”
Ah, if I could laugh, I would.
No apology needed from your sweet little girl, eh, Dad? But if it were me…
“Indeed.” Rosalyn sips her wine. “But, Hattie, dear, have you considered that this wedding might not be the best choice for you?”
So much for us moving on.
“Not at all,” I reply. “Why would it not be?”
“I’m worried you aren’t prepared for the public scrutiny.
I’m very glad you have support, but you see how people reacted to your incident with Jasmine.
You weren’t without criticism,” she says.
“Jas can deal with it all. She’s had the necessary upbringing and has developed a thick skin. You… haven’t.”
I look at my father.
He’s staring into his glass, steadfastly ignoring her words as if his ears are blocked and he can’t hear a thing.
Typical.
As if I needed more confirmation that he’s a spineless piece of shit.
“Yes.” I wriggle my toes in my shoes for something to focus on. “That tends to happen when one is ripped away from their family as a child and forced to grow up in unimaginable circumstances on the other side of the world.”
He flinches.
Rosalyn, however, is unbothered. “I wonder if you shouldn’t call this whole thing off and marry someone more suitable. A quieter life after what you’ve been through.”
“Why? So, Jasmine can step up and fix Finn’s broken heart and take her rightful place?”
“That’s rather a dramatization, but—”
“You’ve already been told that Her Majesty won’t permit a marriage between the two of them. Finn has made it very clear he isn’t interested in her. Why are you clinging onto an impossible fantasy?”
“Harriet—” My father’s phone rings, cutting him off, and he pulls it out of his pocket with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I have to take this. You… Just don’t argue, all right?”
Wow.
He disappears from the room, and the moment he does, the air palpably shifts. It becomes tenser, tighter, thicker, more suffocating that ever before.