Chapter Six
Deirdre Lamont replaced the gold-toned receiver in its cradle, and stared at it as if it were to blame for the curtain of insecurity that just fell on her perfect world. What was Sam doing in Germany and what could he possible need to get away from? She hoped to announce their engagement tomorrow and he left town?
She pulled her long legs to her chest, not moving from the comfort of her bed. She rested her forehead on her knees and wrapped her arms around them as if this self-hug might assure her that everything was fine, that Sam loved her and he would go through with the engagement.
But of course he would. He said he’d be there. Still, something in his voice alarmed her, and Deirdre did not like to be alarmed. Comfort was her zone. Alarm threw the zone off balance. Didn’t she pay people keep her life in balance? How dare he.
She looked to the fourth finger of her left hand for reassurance.
“Soon, this hand will be adorned with the most beautiful diamond ring, the proof that Sam Lyons loves me,” she said as if the walls should applaud. Deirdre needed Sam, and he needed her too. Sam had to go through with the engagement. He simply had to. She worked too hard and too long to win him. He could not back out. For thirteen years she loved Sam Lyons, and now, at age twenty-six, the perfect age for her to marry, he finally vowed to be hers. The prize was won.
But tonight, the prize seemed hesitant.
Deirdre stretched like a waking cat and attempted to bristle off her worry with a laugh. She shouldn’t let that phone call upset her. She always won in the end. All her life, whatever Deirdre Lamont wanted, Deirdre received. Daddy and Mother saw to that. Give the darling child what she wants and she won’t bother anyone.
A gentle knock on her bedroom door caused her to startle and position herself in a more lady-like manner. She placed perfectly polished toes on the plush carpet and sat upright, her arms resting in her lap, her hands folded on the silky, light blue nightgown she wore. “Come in.”
“Hello darling.” Penelope “Penny” Lamont entered with the relaxed elegance of a beautiful woman who married well. Deirdre watched as her mother seemed to glide towards the canopied bed, her white, silk peignoir flowing softly behind her. Deirdre knew she was a mirror image of her mother, possessing the same shimmering silk-spun blonde hair, ice-blue eyes and porcelain skin. But the comparison stopped there. Where Penny Lamont seemed happy as London’s most beloved societal matron, Deirdre’s ambitions aimed higher. Not only would she desire society's respect and admiration, but also the world’s. And the ticket to her dream was Sam Lyons, who would one day be a brilliant, respected actor of stage and screen. She would be by his side, of course, his renowned wife, admired by all for her stunning looks, handsome husband, and philanthropic contributions to the world. Whereas Lady Diana Spencer might be the rising star of today, Deirdre Lamont was just beginning to sparkle.
Penny sat, ever so delicately, on the edge of the bed so as not to wrinkle the bed linens. She offered her daughter a reserved smile. “I put the finishing touches on the engagement announcement for the society pages, and given the word, they’re off to the printer.”
“Lovely, Mother, thank you.” Mention of the engagement forced Deirdre to think of Sam’s call. She faked a smile, hoping her mother would not discern all was not well in her world.
“You did get in touch with Sam and confirm he’ll be at the party?”
“Yes. Just before you walked in.”
“Wonderful!” Penny clasped her hands together. “How exciting it will be for me to announce your engagement tomorrow evening. I just wish your dear father could have lived to see this. He would be so thrilled to know you married Sam.”
Deirdre bit her lip. Her father would have been more thrilled if she was Sam. After all, she was supposed to have been born the boy, the Golden Son to inherit the family business on the retirement or death of her father. But, from the moment the error of her gender was announced, her father cast her aside in his financial plans, waiting and hoping for the second child, the ever-hoped for son who never arrived. In fact, no other children followed and Deirdre remained the Wrongful Heir.
“You know, Deirdre,” Penny said, as if Deirdre might ever forget how her father doted on Sam. “Sam was to inherit the company on your father’s and his father’s retirement. So, it’s only fair that Sam receive his money. I felt so sorry when his father disowned him, but what could I do?”
Deirdre smiled, but inside, her blood boiled. Did her happiness count for nothing? Why did her mother seem happier for Sam than herself? Couldn’t she see how hard she had worked to win the beloved Sam? Never mind the fact, that she was now the rightful heir to the liquidation of the business and that she brought Sam back into the fold. Without her, the prodigal son wouldn’t be returning to the inheritance nest. But never mind. She would ignore the slights as she had forever.
She should hate Sam, living in his shadow all her life. He became the son to her father that she was supposed to be. And yet, she loved Sam as much as her father did. She could never be jealous of Sam, even though he stole her father’s affections, and inherited the business by simply owning the sacred Y chromosome.
As her mother prattled on about party details, Deirdre tuned her out, remembering instead how met Sam. She was a silly teenager, her sights set on marrying into the Royal Family. But when her father introduced her to his business partner, Charles, and his tall, handsome son, Sam, she fell smitten. But, Sam simply regarded her as the pesky young family friend he was forced to be kind to. Sam finally took notice of her when, at sixteen, her beauty came into it’s own. Everyone noticed her then. Her admirers and suitors were plenty; she had the pick of the wealthiest men in the world. But she only wanted Sam.
“Deirdre?” Her mother’s voice startled her from her musings.
“I’m sorry.” She smiled as if she had not a care in the world. Practice makes perfect. “You were saying, Mother?”
“I’m thinking you’re looking a bit drawn tonight, dear.” Penny rose from the bed. “Perhaps you should turn in early. You don’t want to look puffy-eyed tomorrow. Once the media gets wind of this match, you’ll be the media’s darling, second only to Diana of course.”
“Of course.” She rose and placed a small peck on her mother’s cheek.
Penny started to leave, but turned back. “You don’t have to worry, really, darling.”
Deirdre’s eyes opened wide. Had her mother sensed that all was not right with Sam?
Penny patted her hand. “I’m sure you’ll photograph well. The cameras just love you.” She turned with a sweep of her long gown and left the room.
“Of course they do,” Deirdre said to herself, and stared at the phone. “But does Sam?”
