Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
ASHER
My eyes scan the crowd the moment we pass through the double doors. People mill about the grand foyer in sparkling gowns and designer tuxedos. Glasses of champagne and fancy hors d’oeuvres are passed around on silver platters.
But my mother is nowhere to be found.
I thought she and I had an understanding. I thought we’d come to some sort of agreement when it came to my responsibilities to the family and—
“Good evening, my lord,” Mac greets me, somewhat out of breath and rushed. He’s dressed in formal attire, yet stands out with an earpiece and a walkie-talkie on his belt. He turns to Mercury and gives a polite, yet sincere nod. “Miss Creed.”
“Do you happen to know where the countess is?” I ask, using my mother’s formal title since we’re in public.
“No, my lord,” he replies. “But she instructed me to escort you to your seats when you arrived.” Mac has always been my personal valet, but when I left, he was reassigned to my mother’s staff. “You may have better luck finding her there.”
I know his loyalty still lies with me, but the strain it’s putting on him to be caught between us is growing.
It’s never been more evident than it is now.
“No interviews?” I assumed my mother would sell my highly anticipated return to the highest bidder.
“Not that I’m aware of.”
So my mother doesn’t want Mercury and me seen together, nor does she want me talking to the press.
What is she up to?
With Merc’s arm securely around mine, we follow Mac into the ballroom. This estate has always been a favorite of mine. The arched wooden cathedral ceiling is truly a Scottish masterpiece, and I can’t help but smile when I hear Merc’s tiny gasp as she takes it all in.
“It’s breathtaking.”
No, I nearly say. You are.
She always is, but tonight she’s fucking stunning.
From the moment I stepped into the cottage and saw her standing there in that shimmering blue dress, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off her, and I keep reminding myself this isn’t real.
That she’ll eventually have to head back to California, and I’ll have to face all of this alone.
Mac weaves us through the crowd, and I try not to let the attention get to me. I recognize a few of my parents’ friends, some wealthy donors, and celebrities. Many have already taken their seats, while others have taken to the dance floor or are chatting around the bar.
Our table near the front, however, is nearly full.
There is one empty seat. Just one.
My mother sees us approaching and rises to greet us.
“Good evening, darling,” she says with that perfect, toothy grin. The delicate beadwork of her burgundy gown shimmers under the lights as she leans forward to kiss my cheeks, ignoring Mercury completely. “You look lovely.”
“As do you,” I say through gritted teeth and then turn to my date. “You remember Mercury?”
Her eyes dart to the table as her smile falters.
“Yes, of course.” Her reply is curt, yet cordial. “Mac, why don’t you show Miss Creed to her—”
“Mercury and I are sitting together, are we not?”
My mother gives Mac a withering glare. “Did Cormac not explain the situation to you?”
Mac is usually calm and collected in public, but for a moment, I see a crack in his unshakable exterior. “My lady, I—”
“I told him I would prefer it if you explained,” I say, covering for him. After all, he’s been doing it for me for decades.
Her eyes flick to Mercury, her famous smile slipping once again. She hates drawing unwanted attention to herself. Leaning forward to speak as softly as possible, she says, “Your father and I thought it might be wise for you to be on your own tonight.”
“Why?”
She opens her mouth to answer, hesitates, then says softly, “After we learned a bit more about your…companion and her family—”
“What the hell is wrong with the Creeds?” I whisper, but the ire in my voice is unmistakable. I squeeze Mercury’s hand.
“Her father represents a long list of Hollywood bad boys.” I refrain from reminding her I happen to be one of those “bad boys” she’s referring to. “One of her brothers had a child out of wedlock, and her sister serves beer at the family bar.”
None of this is news to me. “And?”
“And we wanted to give you the chance to reconsider.”
Reconsider what? Then her gaze shifts to the woman in the open seat. Isobel.
They’d introduced her to me last night, along with several others. She’s everything my mother promised—beautiful, polite, and well-educated.
But I am not interested. I wasn’t then, and I definitely am not now.
“There’s nothing to consider,” I tell her quietly, then loud enough for everyone to hear, I say. “Mercury and I are here together. So I’m going to take her out on the dance floor, and when I return, I expect this seating arrangement issue will be taken care of. Yes?”
My mother looks at me as if she doesn’t know whether to slap me or applaud. I’ve never spoken to her like this.
I’ve yelled, sure, and we’ve had spats over the years. I was a rebellious teenager who formed a band with my rich friends—practically her worst nightmare. But for me to be so decisive and tactful is a new dynamic. If I’m forced to inherit my father’s title, she’d better start getting used to it.
I don’t wait for a response. I turn to Mercury and extend my hand. “Shall we?”
She nods, a mixture of surprise and amusement crossing her pretty pink lips as she takes it, and we head to the dance floor.
“I’m sorry.” Only a few couples are dancing. The string quartet is playing a waltz, and I pray to God I didn’t just set her up for embarrassment. “That was forward. I should have asked if you wished to dance.”
She faces me as we reach the center of the dance floor, and I slide my hand around her waist. “I love to dance,” she says simply.
“And hearing you talk back to your mom was pretty epic. It kind of reminded me of that time in LA when Zara’s ex showed up backstage.
Although he never mentioned the part about you being a viscount. ”
“That guy was a fucking prick,” I mutter, remembering the day Zara’s ex-husband got his father, a senator, to buy him a backstage pass to our show so he could harass and slut-shame her in front of the band, the crew, and all of Hendrix’s family.
And I wasn’t having any of it.
So he decided to go after me instead.
“You think I don’t know who you are. Some washed-up Scottish nobleman forgotten by his family…”
Clearly, he had a lot of things mixed up because it wasn’t me who had been forgotten. I was the one trying to forget.
But you never forget something like this.
“I don’t like being pushed around by bullies,” I say as I take her hand and take the first step. Surprisingly, she is right there with me, perfectly in step.
“And that’s what you think your mom is? A bully?”
“She’s used to getting her own way,” I explain. “In everything that matters. The word no is foreign to her. I expect she’ll become quite familiar with it in the coming weeks if I have anything to do with it.”
Mercury laughs, but the laughter quickly fades as she asks, “Do you think they’ll ever accept me? I know this isn’t real, but for it to look believable, she should at least pretend to like me, right? Or acknowledge my existence?”
She tries to mask the pain, but I see it, concealed beneath her carefully chosen humor.
“She will,” I promise. One way or another, I will get that woman to show her some respect. “But if for some reason she doesn’t, I’m telling you right now, you don’t need it.”
“I don’t?”
I smirk. “Don’t you see how everyone is looking at you, Merc?” Her eyes go round and wide as she tries not to look too obvious, her gaze darting around the room. “Every single person in here is mesmerized by you, including me.”
She sucks in a breath.
I probably shouldn’t have said that part.
“And soon, they’ll know exactly who you are,” I say. “They’ll know how smart you are, how kind, and—” They’ll be just as infatuated with you as I am.
I stop myself before I say something stupid. Something I can’t take back.
“And what?” Mercury asks.
“And…” I swallow, trying to compose myself. “And my mum won’t have to question whether the right woman stands by my side. She’ll know. Like everyone else.”
I think I’ve mostly convinced her after a few more laps around the dance floor. When we get back to the table, she’s all smiles, and seeing two seats now empty makes me start to relax a bit.
Until I see Isobel still seated to my right.
I didn’t explicitly specify which person to swap out, but I assumed my mother understood that it should be the woman she invited to replace my date.
Everyone greets us with friendly smiles and firm nods as the dinner bell rings. I pull out Mercury’s chair and then take my own seat.
“I’m pleased to introduce my son and heir, the Viscount of Blackstone,” my father says, not bothering to wait for me to respond before he begins the introductions.
“This is…” Then he rattles off a bunch of names I know I’ll forget, even though I probably should remember.
Politicians, nobles, and wealthy landowners, all dripping in jewels and designer gowns, are ready to spend a fortune in the name of charity.
I donated a fortune last year without even leaving my living room. It’s not hard. It doesn’t require all of this pageantry, and that’s the part of this life I can’t stand.
It’s elitist, and in the five hundred years my family has held this title, nearly nothing has changed.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, then give my mother a meaningful glare. “This is my girlfriend, Mercury Creed.”
Isobel and the two people seated to her left, her parents, I presume, look slightly shocked but hide it well.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Isobel says first. Her words sound genuine, and I begin to wonder whether she’s as miserable about this arrangement as I am. Perhaps she’s just an unwilling pawn in her parents’ game too, and we can all laugh about this later.
“You as well.” Her reply is one hundred percent genuine, as is the compliment that follows. “I love your dress.”