Black Lace (Complete)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Your mother wishes to speak to you in the West Sitting room."

I nodded politely at the maid passing. Discomfort had unsettled me since we'd returned from the pond...the closet...the lunch... I blushed. That maid could have been the one that walked in on us. She could have recognized me.

Hell, what if Mother found out and that was why she wanted to speak to me?

I dropped what I was doing and rushed hurriedly to the West Sitting Room, skirts following me on the floor. I'd had time to change, but my hair was still damp. I could say I'd showered, but nothing would explain the strange outside-smell that clung to my skin. Pond, Aziel had called it. I smelled like a pond.

After what felt like ages, I broke through the doors, carrying myself with as much restraint as I could. I knew my eyes were wide and fearful as they located Mother at the back of the room, but I couldn't find it in myself to hold it back. I tried to still my heaving chest and curtseyed.

"Mama? You called for me?"

"Romina, yes." Mother turned from her position by the window, peeking out past the curtains at the green terrain surrounding the estate. She motioned an arm for me to near her, but I didn't come closer. "Romina." She sighed. Her eyes fell to the floor defeatedly. "Where did I go wrong?"

I frowned, unsure about what she was talking about.

"Take the seat beside you," she motioned an arm lazily. Once I was seated, she chose the chair opposite me, settling her hands in her lap. Her lips were calm and pink as she spoke, but her eyes held such turmoil. It was like that stormy night all over again, captured inside her irises, unreleased. Pounding. "I know this is not proper, but I would like to start by..." she shuffled uncomfortably, "apologizing."

My eyes widened.

"It was wrong to hit you, Romina. It's not my job as a mother to discipline you like that. It's no one's job, really." She offered me a weak smile. I gave her one back. "I apologize. How is your hand doing?"

"It's alright." I looked down at my hand, eyes running over the bandaged skin. It had stopped bleeding some, but today's adventure with Aziel hadn't helped its speedy recovery.

Mother nodded, eyes refusing to stray from my face. It seemed that if she looked anywhere else—at my hand, really, she'd fall apart. Break. Spill tears. Mother had always been composed. Mother had never cried with me. Mother was always strong; a gentle force, a wave, the soft brush of a flower on your ankle. But now she seemed weak.

"Now, the reason I have called you here is because of your Father." My heart dropped. Father? What did he know? Had Aziel told him something? What was happening?

She saw my features pale. "I knew this would upset you, dear." She was about to sit up and offer me her handkerchief, paused, hesitated, then sat back down, shame clouding her features. "I've tried my best to hold off your engagement until you turned twenty—"

What? It wasn't about Aziel? I calmed. But it was brief.

Engagement.

Marriage.

Husband.

"What are you saying, mama?" I asked, voice choked. My finger tightened around my dress, turning white from the pressure.

"He's decided to speed it up. It's only a few months away, your birthday. He's found a wonderful suitor. A rich, rich man. He—"

I tuned her out. I pulled blank. I knew this day would come. Marriage. Marriage. Marriage. I knew it wouldn't be long. I knew it was months away. I thought I was ready.

"I'm not ready." I cut in. I couldn't seem to move. My eyes were stuck on the floral bouquet before us. I wasn't seeing it, really. My eyes were open but I felt blind. Numb.

"Romina, I'm sorry. I tried to talk to your Father but he wouldn't listen."

Men didn't listen. That was the problem. It didn't matter what women said to them. We were nothing to them.

I recalled Father telling Aziel that I wasn't currency. Maybe I wasn't, to him, but I certainly was to other men.

"How long?"

"A week, darling," Mother tried to say softly, as if that would lessen the impact, "a week."

I saw tears run down her cheeks, and it took me a moment to realize that there were tears running down my own as well.

"Will you be there?"

Mother remained silent. She closed her eyes. More tears slipped down her cheeks.

She shook her head.

"I can't go, mama," I begged weakly. I felt tears roll off my chin and fall into my hands, beading along my skin and soaking into the white bandages.

"I've given you a chance, Romina." She opened her eyes again, but now there was a fierceness behind. Now the storm turned in her favour. She was powerful. She was the Mother I knew again. "What's in a week? Seven days? I asked your Father to buy those horses. I have a packed bag."

"What are you saying?" I stood upright, but my legs stumbled. I fell to my knees before Mother. She couldn't meet my eyes.

"I'm sorry that I can't be there," she said.

"No, mama, what do you mean? What bag? What horses?" I was asking all these questions, but I knew the answer deep down.

"Go, Romina. Go back to your room." She hastily wiped her cheeks but refused to look at me.

"Mama." It was a weak plea. She didn't reply. She didn't respond. She made no move.

"I need you. Please." I thought about grabbing her hand and begging her more. I thought about crying some more in her arms, just like I did as a child when the nights got dark and cold. I thought about staying by her side and refusing to leave, even until my husband arrived, even until my wedding day. I would not leave.

But I did. I had to. She'd given me a chance.

I had to leave.