An American Duchess by Sharon Page

Author:Sharon Page
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

14

WEDDING NIGHT

Near Berwick-Upon-Tweed

“My little girl, a duchess!”

Zoe had barely got into her mother’s room when she was snared in Mother’s perfumed embrace. Mother beamed. Zoe wasn’t sure if it was happiness—or the champagne at the reception.

“Well, we did it, dear. I’m so very happy.”

“Happy for me for marrying the man I love.”

Mother rolled her large violet-blue eyes. “Happy for you for securing your future.” She lowered her voice to a determined whisper. “I remember what it was like to have an empty larder, a dirt floor and the despair of not knowing where the next meal would come from. I vowed you would have so much more.”

“Mother, I grew up that way.”

Mother waved logic away. “You must barely remember it. Your children will never know that kind of a life, Zoe. And neither will you or I. Ever again.” Mother’s expressive eyes narrowed. “And you must keep our past quiet, Zoe.”

“We don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

“You remember what things were like when we first came to New York. Do not give anyone anything that can be used as ammunition.”

Mother let her go and strode back to the door that led to her dressing room. From the doorway, she wagged her finger at someone in the room. “Now, be careful with those dinner gowns. Have you no idea how to pack a trunk? Those things are the height of fashion in New York and I don’t want them ruined.”

Zoe peeked around the corner. Two trunks stood open, and Mary, Mother’s maid, was rushing to and fro, trying to transfer Mother’s dozens of outfits to the cases.

“Mother, are you leaving already?” Of course she would be, Zoe realized. She must be returning to New York. Silly, but she’d expected her mother to be here when she returned.

Homesickness washed over her with such strength she could barely stand.

She was twenty. For all her bravado, she’d never been on her own before.

She was married. She was crazy about Nigel, but when she thought about it, she really barely knew him. Her husband was still a stranger.

“Of course we are leaving, dear. I have been told the train leaves at three o’clock. Now, darling, I’d love to talk, but my maid has packed my trunks all wrong and they have to be redone in the next hour, and that’s not going to happen unless I’m standing over them.”

“Your train leaves at the same time as mine?” It meant she could have one very last hug with Mother before they went separate ways: Mother to Southampton to sail home, and her to the north with Nigel.

“It’s the same train, darling. Of course it leaves at the same time.”

Then she understood. “Mother! You are not thinking to come on our honeymoon?”

“Zoe, a lady does not raise her voice.”

“Stop trying to act like the dowager.” Was the dowager still the dowager now that she was the duchess? Zoe had no idea. And it didn’t matter. “Mothers do not accompany daughters on their honeymoons.”

“They do.

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