His Sudden Bride (The Brides # 1) COMPLETED

Chapter Eight, Part One

The days leading up to the wedding, was happily met with anticipation and joy. Or it was suppose to be met that way. For when it came to dark moods, it was taken in form of his mother. Charlotte Abernathy. It seemed that as much as he did not want to see her, Charlotte was the most persistent, persuasive woman in all of Great Britain.

He was in his study, reading a letter; ignoring Dooley's persistence with having him see Charlotte.

"I must insist, m'lord, Mrs. Abernathy's in tears as to why ye 'ouldn't see 'er. Do reconsider, for the Lord's sake."

Edward whipped in the butler's direction, and faced Dooley, his hazel eyes cold as ice, as was his voice chipped, "I will not have her in my presence. She is nothing to me. Tell, Mrs. Abernathy that I am terribly busy."

Dooley sighed and said guiltily, "Tis unfortunate as I must tell ye, Lord Douro. But Mrs. Abernathy is currently takin' tea in the drawin' room."

"What?" Edward could not believe the idiot. Clearly what Dooley was told not to do, he always did the opposite. Father really should release him from service. As he stood up and marched his way towards the drawing room, his anger reeling like the flames of hell.

Charlotte was sipping delicately on her tea, like a proper lady, like a duchess, when Edward entered.

She placed the teacup down, and his mother stood up, in a most elegant blue dress and said, soothingly, "It's been awhile, Edward."

"It's been only two months," Edward chipped.

"Come now, Edward. Are you not happy to see your mother?" Charlotte asked, in cold politeness.

"I have no mother," Edward said, "And would like you to please leave the premise. I say it as a kindness to you, otherwise, you will have to leave by force."

"Come now Edward," said Charlotte, "I wanted to talk to you about Lady Alexandra. Do sit. Is she lovely? A beauty? Brunette or blonde?"

Edward stiffened. He was not going to talk to his mother about Lexa. Not now, not ever. "My fiancée is not a concern of yours."

"Pity," lied Charlotte, "She was such a lovely girl to talk to. Beautiful too."

Edward felt himself stiffen even more. "You spoke to her?"

Charlotte smiled, slyly, revelling in the horrific look on Edward's face. "Yes. She is such a sweet girl. She's perfect for you, Edward. I say, your father chose well."

Edward could not take it anymore. He approached his mother and took her arm. He dragged her with him; with her struggling against his grasp wildly, "I am your mother, I tell you!" she screeched in his ear, "How dare you! Unhand me at once!"

Just as they were nearing the main entrance, he released her, and she immediately slapped him across the face. The pain stung him hard, as a red hand imprinted on his cheek. Charlotte sneered as he glared. He pointed to the door, and said, coolly, keeping his temper in check, "Leave, ma'am. You are not wanted here."

She sniffed, tears brimming in her eyes, and then she sobbed. "H-how could you be so cruel, Edward? After everything we've been th-through?" she hiccupped as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Edward tried his hardest not to feel guilty for being harsh on his mother. But even through she was his mother; he couldn't forgive her for what she did. He couldn't forgive her for all those terrible, miserable years in Wales. He just couldn't.

Edward calmed down and walked towards the main door. He turned the doorknob and opened the door. His mother turned to him, her eyes red from crying, and he said, "Goodbye, Mother."