"And you expect me to believe that?" Disgust cut lines through her mother's carefully tended forehead.
"You know, this conversation didn't go well yesterday. And it's not getting better with time."
"Is it too much to ask that you fulfill your obligations as-a member of this family and behave like a lady?"
Grace sighed in exasperation. "For heaven's sake, this isn't the Victorian era."
"And more's the pity," Carolina said with bite. "Back! then, people understood the importance of manners and appearances."
"Just who do you think I have to impress, Mother? Other than you, that is."
"Don't be argumentative. You know people are always watching. And I assure you, there is nothing quaint or nostalgic about breaking your wedding vows." Carolina pointed to the open door, through which Smith's room was visible. "I want that man out of this house."
Grace's eyes widened. “I can't do that"
"Yes, you will."
"Mother, John Smith works with me."
"I don't care if he's your doctor or your lawyer or your garbage man. I don't want him under your father's roof."
"Then I'm going, too."
Those four words brought the conversation to a halt.
"I beg your pardon?"
Grace raised a weary hand to her temple, trying to rub away some of the tension that had crawled up her spine and into her head. "Look, I don't want to upset you."
"It's a bit late for that."
"But I think it might be better if we just go."
Carolina sniffed with disapproval. "There's no reason to be theatrical, Grace. And I'm only looking out for your best interests."
"It feels as though all you're doing is making accusations."
"Better me than the press." Carolina's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "It would be so very public, if you were to indulge in any indiscretions. You know that, don't you?"
Grace nodded through her frustration. "Of course I do."
"We may have lost your father but we still have the power of his name. I don't want anything to happen to this family's reputation."
Grace stiffened as the implications of what her mother said sank in.
"Would that be the greater tragedy for you?" she whispered. "Harder to bear than losing him?”
Carolina ignored the question. "You are the only valid heir to his legacy. I don't want you to throw that all away for some ... man. You married into royalty—"
"Stop it, Mother," Grace interrupted. "Please."
Turning away, she went over to the closet and pulled out her suitcase.
"You are truly going?”
She found her mother's shock grating. "Yes, I am."
"But what will I tell the guests? After I already rescheduled the party to this evening due to your outbursts."
With a resigned shake of the head, Grace murmured, "I'm sure you'll think of something."
As she began taking things out of the closet, her mother made a disparaging sound in the back of her throat.
"Well, if this is going to be your attitude, perhaps it is best that you go." Carolina paused at the door. "Although do me the courtesy of saying your good-byes, will you? It's the least you can do."
As soon as Grace was alone, she slumped on the bed and looked over at the clothes she'd thrown haphazardly into the suitcase. The idea that she might not ever be comfortable at Willings again, that the division between her and her mother would only get larger now that her father's buffering influence was gone, disappointed her.
But maybe staying away was the only option. There was something about her mother that sucked the will to live right out of her, she thought. All that cold elegance, that indefatigable censure, it was like being next to an emotional black hole.
When she heard the soft tones of the grandfather clock down the hall, she realized she better tell John they were leaving.
She went across the hall and knocked on his doorjamb. "John?"
He came out of the bathroom wearing a T-shirt and black pants. There was a towel hanging around his neck and his hands were gripping both ends, making his biceps stand out.
A flush sped through her but, when their eyes met and he showed little response, disappointment had her squaring her shoulders.
"Good morning," she said.
He nodded. "Morning."
She sure could have used a smile. Some hint of warmth. The touch of his hand. Instead, he seemed to have retreated into himself and she was reminded of when she'd first seen him and wondered whether there was anything behind the hardness.
"Ummm—There's been a change in plans. We're leaving," she said.
"Fine."
She frowned. The night before, he had held her tightly against him, whispered her name hoarsely as his body had come into hers. Staring at his impassive face, she thought it was as if everything that had happened the night before had been a dream.