London Dynasty (The Dynasties #1) - Geneva Lee Page 0,22

was traveling,” I added the last pointedly. Later, I planned to drill Giles for as much background on Kerrigan’s whereabouts as possible. I didn’t want to be caught off guard—like I’d been with Caroline—again.

“I suppose, Miss...K,” he self-corrected. “How you proceed within this social circle is up to you. I am only here to offer insight.”

“Then I’d like to get ready with Iris.” That was an easy decision. It was understandable that Kerrigan had bristled at her stepmother’s closeness in age, but I had to believe if she’d gotten to know her that she might feel differently. “But am I seriously, just getting pretty all day?”

“It is a rather important day. We should go over who will be in attendance—”

“But you’ll be there, right?”

“If you would like,” he said, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “I can attend with the driver and stay in the car.”

“You can’t come to the party?” I shook my head, abandoning my tea to the bedside table as panic began to take hold of me. I needed someone there. Someone who was on my side.

“I am not an invited guest. It is a very exclusive occasion. However, should you like me to remain nearby…”

“No. I won’t ask you to wait in the car. I can’t believe they’re that snobby.” I paused and recalled how Caroline had acted at lunch. Maybe I could believe it, but there had to be others like Iris and Evie who were different. Still, I wouldn’t ask Giles to sit around while I sipped champagne and danced. “What happens if I forget something or need help?”

“Your father...bloody hell, I did it again. Pardon me, Mr. Belmond will be nearby, but there’s a simpler solution.”

I clutched a pillow to my chest and nodded.

“Keep a glass of champagne with you. Whenever you need to avoid someone or some question, take a drink and nod or smile.”

“That’s your advice?” I said flatly. I was going to make a mess of this. “I’ll just wind up drunk.”

“One thing I’ve learned about the wealthy is that they love to talk about themselves, let them. Your silence will be rewarded with all sorts of inane chatter. Being drunk is just a bonus,” he said with a shrug.

He continued on, giving me a rundown on the foods likely to be served and what Kerrigan might eat, the dancing, the drinks, the dazzling company. I was to spend the evening in the presence of politicians, aristocrats, and billionaires. This wasn’t some casual gathering at the local pub. This was a gala event.

“So, what are we celebrating?” I asked.

Giles frowned, puzzlement written over his face. “Your engagement, of course. Or Kerrigan’s, rather, but you take my point.”

“What?” I blurted out. “I thought I was meeting Spencer for the first time in years.”

“You are, but agreements have been reached.”

Images of handshakes and private meetings held in rooms filled with men and cigar smoke popped into my head. I’d bet that was close enough to what had happened.

“So he’s not going to propose?”

“I suppose he might, but he’s agreed to the arrangement as well.”

Something about that fact struck me. I’d been thinking a lot about how Kerrigan must be feeling, but now I realized Spencer had been dragged into this as well. After the encounter in the bathroom, I was certain he wasn’t looking for a wife out of necessity. It was a business arrangement, plain and simple.

“Why?” I pondered out loud.

“Pardon?” Giles called as he disappeared into the nearby ensuite bath. He returned carrying a silk robe.

I scrambled out of bed, hoping that getting up would clear my head. Slipping into the robe, I wrapped it around me, tying the belt tightly. Long kimono sleeves draped gracefully to my wrists, and I admired the elegant crane print of the fabric for a moment before I found the right way to posit my question. “Why does he need an arranged marriage? What does he get out of it?”

Mr. Belmond had been clear on his reasons for selling his daughter off to the Byrds. They had a title that would convey to her as well as her children someday. He was buying privilege and status and willing to pay with his daughter’s freedom.

“Like all aristocratic families, there’s never enough money,” Giles told me.

“They’re poor?” This surprised me, given the shop I’d met Caroline and Evie in yesterday.

“Not by any standards but their own,” Giles said dryly.

“Do I detect a hint of disdain?” I couldn’t help smiling. I doubted Giles could be this open with