When the dowager unlocked the door, she ordered a maid to call back her grandchildren. I was still pretty shocked, feeling like I had traded my soul for something incredibly stupid, such as a Baconator, with the devil.
But I was as good as my word and I didn't want to chicken out.
I thought I'd be fine now with all of my problems erased, but no, everything just added up.
Here was my list of newfound problems:
a) I was engaged to a douchebag who had claimed he didn't know a single thing about the Marquess of Sterling, which led this to
b) he was the Marquess of Sterling, adding up to a terrible problem such as
c) Michael's grandmother was the dowager Duchess of Rossington, meaning
d) she would be my grandmother. I had no problems about this (kind of) until
e) she liked to order people about, but what horrified me the most was
f) I had no idea how to tell Grams about my sudden engagement to an English marquess -- of all people -- and
g) how would I tell this to Viv and everyone else?
The dowager and I sat in silence, sipping the tea she rang for us a few minutes ago.
And, as if everything wasn't bad enough already, Michael's grandmother said -- pretty casually, in my opinion -- leading to the list of my mounting, horrible problems was this:
h) "You'll sleep in this house adjoining Michael's boudoir."
This led me to choking so hard from just sipping my Twinings two at a time that I nearly ran out of breath, possibly shaking the house down to ashes with my wheezing and coughing.
Really, what was up with this old woman? She loved shocking people without breaking her expression, such as the straight, icy, I-have-nothing-to-do-with-this-so-why-are-you-choking? kind of look.
I was caught in the scene with Michael and Frederick entering the room in their casual clothes, staring at me with wide, curious eyes as I sat in the chair, gripping the armrest hard, coughing, and with actual tears in my eyes.
"I -- need -- wa -- ter!" I choked out.
The dowager twisted around in her seat slightly, teacup and saucer in her hands. "Would you kindly whack the girl with my cane?" she asked calmly, sipping her tea and turning back to look at me.
Frederick was about to help me (without using his grandmother's cane!), when the dowager barked, "No, Frederick, I didn't say it was you!"
"That's not important! She's choking and --"
"Quiet, boy!"
He gaped, unable to believe what he'd just heard. "You --"
"Frederick!" she chided.
As if reading her mind, Michael sidled up to me, whacking my back rather loudly and harder than was necessary.
I could tell he was enjoying this tremendously, most especially the dowager. Frederick, on the other hand, had twitching lips.
As I wheezed, thinking that my lungs would come straight out of my mouth from the jerk who was whacking my back with his big palm, I tried to slap his hand away.
"That's -- enough!" I coughed out, finally slapping Michael's hand away from me.
I breathed hard, then fell into my chair deeply, shutting my eyes. I never knew this family could be such a pain.
"Jerk," I mumbled, referring to Michael.
"Now, now, Keller," the dowager scolded, blowing her tea gently. "Be nice."
I stomped my foot, frustrated. "But you said I'm going to sleep here adjoining Michael's room!" I wailed, burying my face in my hands.
She ignored my comment. "A lady does not stomp her foot like a spoiled little girl, and she most certainly does not complain excessively."
Frederick started combusting with laughter, the fiend. Michael, on the other hand, was, miraculously, on my side.
"What?" he exclaimed, marching toward his grandmother who only glowered at him. "She can't stay here! This is my house. My house, my rules."
"I am your grandmother. I have little life left in this world..." she murmured, making Michael snort. "I only wish to see my grandson and his affianced bride sleep near each other's rooms. Is that so hard?" she whispered brokenly, which, really, ruined the whole effect when she ate a biscuit or two.
But she recovered that by saying, "My nerves, you know. Biscuits always do calm me."
"No," Michael said, rolling his eyes, "playing solitaire and drinking your madeira calms you, along with barking commands at people."
Frederick puffed his cheeks, shaking his head as he tried desperately to contain his laughter from exploding again.
"Cease, Frederick!" the dowager snapped.
He gaped. "I didn't --"
"Frederick Anthony Cotswold Cutting Kneap, zip your face."
Frederick stopped, staring at her with furrowed brows. "Grandmama, did you just tell me to zip my face?"
Michael couldn't help but shake with mirth, while I pulled myself together.
"Indeed, I did," she bit off.
Frederick shook his head, then glanced at his watch. "I ought go," he announced. "I remember Jerome is waiting for me at Seven."
"It's 10:30 PM, Frederick," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Hmmph," the dowager said with a sniff. "And here I thought you'll accompany your grandmama for tea. Shame on you, boy."
Frederick only grinned and kissed her on the cheek. He wished me good luck with Michael, which only made my fiancé and me groan at each other like ferocious wolves that hadn't eaten for three days straight.
He quickly took his phone from the table where he left it while his grandmother and I had been talking, then he was off.
"What did he mean, Seven?" I asked.
"It's Frederick's club," Michael answered. "Well, he's a partner." I was still not used to his accent. It was so weird because I wasn't accustomed to it. "Haven't heard of it? Most of the students at our school go there with their fake IDs."
I stared at Michael, unable to believe that he was talking to me, civilly. Then it hit me.
"That hit club downtown?" I gasped. "He owns that?"
He shrugged. "Partly. But no one from outside the family knows it's his. He has no title like me, but he's made a lot of money on his own -- damn lucky sod," he said under his breath.
I blinked. He was -- sort of, I thought -- jealous of Frederick because his cousin was a free man. He didn't have a title, a father who threatened to disinherit him; and didn't have to hide in America and act all normal -- because Frederick was normal.
In the sense that he didn't have any duties like Michael did, who was a marquess, nearing disinheritance, and was engaged to a girl who was going hysterical. But it was obvious Frederick wasn't struggling with money, either.
I started to complain to the dowager that my own grandmother was waiting for me at home, probably worrying about me, but she only said that she'd handle everything.
"And you may either call me Lady Margaret, Lady Cutting, or Lady C," she added. Margaret. Huh. Didn't suit her.
So then I gave her Grams' number, since she'd forced me to do it. In the end, when she called my grandmother, she said that she was the dowager Duchess of Rossington and that I was getting married to her grandson, the "dashing" young Marquess of Sterling.
I thought she'd say something different! Why did I even think that?
"GIVE ME THE PHONE!" I shrieked, making Michael cover his ears, scowling.
"Yes, I shall have someone to fetch you tomorrow so we could discuss this grandmother-to-grandmother, Mrs Wuthering...Of course she'll be explaining as well...Indeed...Well, all right. Good-bye, Mrs Wuthering. I do appreciate your understanding."
"What about school?" I demanded, pacing back and forth. "What about normalcy? Michael and I can't tell this to everyone! This is a DISASTER."
I was going insane. I need Advil; my head was pounding.
"Oh, pish posh." Lady C waved her hand, shaking her head. "Nonsense, girl. Your grandmother and I will settle things properly. And as for school, we can sort that as well. Not that Michael needs to learn anymore because he is very intelligent. He'd been taught quite a lot."
I glanced at her, convinced that she was lying, but said nothing.
"Off you two go!" she ordered briskly, motioning for us to leave. "Go to bed, do whatever it is you chavvies do nowadays. Leave me in solitude with my cane and my tea."
I stomped my way out, heading toward the hall at the end of the room and turning to the right -- but someone cleared his throat.
"Do you even know where you're going?" Michael demanded, staring at me like I was loopy.
I parted my lips then clamped it shut. I shook my head.
"You're grandmother is worse than you," I commented, following him behind, trying my best to match his strides with my own but failing. I mean, I was tall and all, but Michael's legs were longer.
"You'll get used to her," he said, dismissing me.
"I'm still really freaking out about your accent."
He turned around and chuckled. "Handsome looks, plus a charming voice. Quite a combination, isn't it?"
I gulped. The accent did add up to his mounting good looks.
Michael grinned wickedly and ruffled my hair. I fumed. Like, really fumed. I thwacked his arm with my hands, which made him turn around, scowling and laughing at the same time. This made me even more angry.
We continued that way until a maid cleared her throat slightly. We stopped, looking at her.
"Miss Blakely, I'm here to help you with your every need. The dowager has assigned me to you." She smiled shyly.
"Oh," I said.
"Have fun, Keller," Michael hollered, chuckling. I was ready to slap him again, when he walked smoothly to his room. The maid stared at him along with me until he shut his door.
"He's annoying," I remarked. The maid's eyes twinkled. "And an asshole." This time, she couldn't help but laugh.
With that, the maid -- who I later found out was named Jenny from Dublin -- showed me to my room, which really did adjoin Michael's.
My reaction to this was a snort, but I didn't speak.
I stood mesmerized on the threshold, my gaze roving longingly over the white satin coverlet on the bed splashed with flowers of lavender and pink.
Ruefully, I turned to Jenny. "I'd feel way better if you could find another room for me. You know, something that I can't damage just by breathing..."
"The dowager ordered that you be shown into this room, my lady," Jenny said quietly, dimpling.
I sighed. "Really has to be adjoined with Michael's room, huh?"
"Quite so."
I strolled to the walk-in closet and opened one of the wardrobes. There were clothes. Huh. Wondered who'd slept here. That was the very thought I asked Jenny, who said that it was from a "friend" of "his lordship."
By friend, I only stared at her with such peevishness. Friend, my foot! Of course he had a mistress! Not that I cared, but whatever.
Ignoring that, I bathed, then Jenny and I searched for something to wear for sleeping. There were no sweatpants or large, comfy shirts. Damn. I gave up searching, but then Jenny came with a glorious white silk nightdress that reached just above my thighs. I squinted, searching the label. I knew it. Victoria's Secret.
When I wore that, I couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable. Not that there was anything wrong with my body, because it emphasized the length of my legs and my torso but it was just so short. I wasn't used to wearing these "nightdresses."
With a huff, I thanked Jenny and went over to the bed, closing all the lights, ready to sleep and forget my problems.
Until someone sang.
Badly.
Very, very badly.
Really loudly, too.
And was banging my side of the wall.
I cursed profanities fluently, closing my eyes and moving the duvet away from me, grumbling as I stomped to a connecting -- yes, connecting -- door to Michael's room. He was singing freaking Through the Fire! At the top of his lungs! Which he was awfully getting flat tones! ARGH.
I wouldn't be able to sleep like this. How could I sleep?
I banged on his door. "Michael, you jackass!"
But he couldn't hear me. He turned on the music to join his miserable talent. Realising that the door was open and I was simply stupid enough not to open it, I twisted the knob and marched inside his gigantic room -- it was bigger than mine.
He was dancing, wiggling his bum, banging his head, and swaying his hips -- the works of epic moves! He was in his boxer shorts with blue and white stripes, while he was...topless. Dammit. Now I had to not look at his torso as to not get tempted and completely distract myself.
"MICHAEL!" I boomed, slapping his smooth back with my palm. He ignored me, but that only made me more irritated than ever.
I walked across the giant room to the Bose stereos, clicking it shut with my finger on the power button.
"I was listening, singing, and dancing to that!" Michael complained, marching toward me with narrowed eyes. I glared back. This was going to go on forever.
Without a word, he turned it on again, only to be pressed shut by me. This went on until Michael grinned evilly, running to his side table beside the bed, grabbing the remote for the stereo. He turned it on, while I closed it, then, when I finally exploded, I went for the remote, dodging Michael along with me as I fought for the black, rectangular object.
"Keller!" he exclaimed, groaning when my knee pressed on his hard and flat stomach, making my way for the remote that he raised above his head, far away from me.
Then he stopped.
He just gave up completely.
Just. Like. That.
I grinned evilly, yelling, "Aha!" triumphantly as my hands wrapped around the remote, grasping it away from his hand.
Michael was silent because he wasn't speaking at all, nor was he moving. My eyes trailed down from his hand, arm, and head. He was staring at me wickedly, lips twisting into that gorgeous crooked smile of his that made every girl into a heap of melted butter. He could probably melt stone, if that were possible.
I just realized then that I was straddling him in the most scandalous position, while his left hand was on my thigh, his other raised up above his head. His hand on my thigh circled it with his thumbs, murmuring, "Did I tell you how incredibly sexy you look in that nightdress of yours?"
I gulped.
He smiled wickedly. "You also look positively delicious with your unruly curls and waves disheveled like that from your shoulders all the way to your back..." He immediately switched positions, now with me under his large frame, his eyes twinkling merrily at my flushed face and wide green orbs.
"Positively...delicious," he repeated.
Then slowly...slowly...slowly...his head came down on me, with lips ready to descend and touch mine.
But his lips went to my ear, whispering softly, his breath all hot and tingly, "You do realize it's fun seducing you, right? Easy mark."
"Get -- off -- me -- perv!" I shrieked, kicking him away from me. He only laughed so hard, there were tears in his eyes.
"God, if you only saw the look on your face!" he said through chuckles, rolling onto his back on the king-size bed, combusting with laughter. "It was so funny."
That's it! I thought angrily. Before I left his room in a hurricane, I balled my right hand into a fist, pounding his stomach once -- but effectively. Instead of him laughing, he choked out as his upper body jumped up, eyes wide, lips puckered out. He was hilarious.
I smiled, satisfied with my work.
I wiped my hands together for a job well done. "There we go!" I said brightly. "I'm done with my work. It's perfect!" I smirked. "Aww, poor Michael. My little marquess is hurt like a baby. Your bride's just going to the other room, ready for sleep. Nighty-night, little tyke!"
He was groaning from agony, but I only ignored him happily, walking to the door connected to my room.
Only to find it locked.
I panicked, running to the other door which led to the hall --
Locked.
LOCKED!
Michael choked out in an angry demand, "What now?" He was clutching his pounded stomach.
I slowly turned around to face him. "Was this your plan all along?"
Michael shook his head, and I saw the truth in his eyes. I whined. I kicked. I jumped. I screamed. But he was only laughing. "My grandmother," was what he only said.
"Why why WHY?" I screeched, pacing back and forth across his room, until I got tired.
"She's tricky," he explained. "Oh, by the way, Keller...since you're going to sleep here in my room for the night, you'll sleep on the floor! It's rather comfy, really."
I glowered at him. "You --"
He shut his lights off and under the warm covers of his bed he went, saying cheekily, "Goodnight, love!"