Emery Montgomery is no stranger to the spotlight, after all when you're the heir to the English throne, privacy isn't something you're used to. So when she's sent to New York City to attend university and in attempt to better her family's public ima...
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•Emery's POV•
"Emery it's nice to see you again dear," My Mother says smiling politely as I walk into the dining room.
"You too Mother," I nod kissing the sides of her cheeks lightly.
"Ahh, Mr. Collins it's so lovely to have you over please have a seat," She says as Greyson walks in behind me, I expected her to be polite to him but I didn't think this much.
He nods and sits down beside me instead of the chair Gus pulled out for him beside my Mother.
"How is your Father doing?" Mother asks as they serve the drinks.
"He's good," Greyson answers tensely.
"So...how are you guys?" I ask sipping my water.
"We're doing what we can in this difficult time," Father says looking right at me, making sure it's known that I'm the cause of their difficult time.
"Well we're managing," Mothers says in a slightly more upbeat tone.
"Alright," I say mumble nodding, "Where's Annabelle?" I ask, Usally she sits right across or beside me at dinner.
"She failed to finish her lessons on time so she's dealing with the consequences now," Father says plainly.
"Will she be joining us later?" I ask.
"That's up to her," He replies sharply. I make a mental note to make sure the chef goes back to delivering her food after dinner to make sure she's getting food.
She's only 14 after all, She needs to be fed and someone to make sure that happens.
After that, they continue to make small talk until they ask for the first course to be brought out.
"Did you hear The Viscountess Adreona was having an affair with their gardener," My Mother informed us.
"Not surprised," Father deadpans.
"That's horrible, I feel bad for the Viscount," I say somberly, Glancing down Greyson's hand balled up in a fist catches my eye, his knuckles are white from how he was squeezing them.
Looking back up I move my hand over to cover his, His hand noticeably relaxes and his fingers lace through mine so we're holding hands.
Is it wrong that I don't want to let go of his hand?
The servers walk in a line they're holding bowls and plates of food, They set it all neatly on the table before bowing and walking out in the same lineup.
"Thank you," I nod as one refills my water.
"What would you think about a new fountain in the west gardens?" Mother asks cutting up a piece of her food.
