by Lucy Lambert
Anger flushed Catherine's cheeks, and before Aiden could stop the thought from occurring, he wondered if the rest of her body had become rosy like that as well. He did manage to keep his eyes from confirming or denying the hypothesis, thankfully.
Aiden squeezed the couch cushion mercilessly, his knuckles taut and white.
"You never noticed, did you?" Catherine said, "You never noticed the way I always tried to be around you at school. You never noticed how I always joined your study groups, how I made friends with your friends..."
"I thought we were friends. I thought you were just going the same direction as I was," he said. Look at her face. Her face! That's not her face. He pulled his eyes back up.
"And you never even thought twice about it when I got a job at Carbide Solutions, did you?"
Aiden shrugged. It was getting easier not to pay attention to her body. It helped to think about Gwen, and how much he wanted to see her again. "I knew that you were a good student, and that you had potential. Carbide Solutions might not have been the most ethical company, but I knew they always went out of their way to hire the best. So I really wasn't surprised when I learned you were brought on board. I figured it was just the headhunters doing their job."
Catherine gave him the same sigh as he'd heard from Gwen many times. Aiden had a theory about that sigh. It was about frustration, of course. But a specific variety of frustration. Namely, frustration at a man they liked who wasn't getting some point they were trying to make.
Gwen usually followed said sigh with a comment along the lines of, "You're lucky you’re so good looking."
"I made sure that I got that job. To be close to you. Do you see things clearly now? Or should I submit a report on company letterhead?" Catherine finished.
Thankfully, she also moved away from him and sat down in the opposing wingback.
"I see," Aiden said, "But there's still something I don't understand. Why now, Catherine? Why here? I just got engaged. It doesn't exactly seem like the best moment to throw yourself at me."
"It's really hard to get out of the friendzone, for one, which I didn't expect at first. Normally it's the guy who's stuck in it, not the girl. So it's not like I had a lot of resources to draw on..." Catherine said, "As for why now? Desperation, I suppose. As soon as I heard about the engagement, I could see my chances with you swirling their way down the drain. I knew it was now or never, and that I'd never have a chance again if I didn't go for it."
"Well, I have to say, that's quite the eleventh hour move. And I am sorry I didn't know," Aiden continued, "Maybe if I had, things would have been different. But you can't change the past. And I'm in love with Gwen. And she's in love with me, too... At least, I think she is."
Catherine nodded. She stood, and Aiden averted his eyes again. "I'll be right back."
She returned a minute later, once more wearing the dress she'd had on before. Aiden stood when she came back into the room. "So should we go over those acquisition documents?" he said, motioning towards the folder that she'd left on the table.
"Actually, I've already taken care of all of that. Those were just an excuse for you to let me in," she brushed some glossy black strands of hair out of her eyes and smiled. This wasn't a seductive smile though. It was bashful and apologetic.
"Oh. Well, then. Are there any other business matters that we might discuss?" Aiden said, immediately giving himself a mental kick thereafter. Why are you trying to keep her in the room? Let her go! It was that doing the right thing part of him again, he knew. He didn't want to be cruel to her.
"No, that's it. Not exactly, actually. I'll have another document needing your signature on its way to you. It should be here sometime tomorrow." Catherine collected the fake documents and started for the door, her footfalls sharp and decisive.
"Oh? What is it?" Aiden said, instinctively moving to show her out, despite the way his anxiety went from a simmer to a boil when he closed the distance between them.
"My resignation from Carbide Solutions..."
"Catherine! You don't have to do that. We can work something out. I thought that's what we were doing here, right now?"
She grabbed the door handle before he could and pulled the door open, but didn't step through. Another sweet, apologetic smile graced her lips. "No, Aiden, my failed attempt to seduce you is what happened here. You know how I feel now, and I can't just stop feeling that way after one brief conversation. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can work with you anymore."
"Are you sure? We can be friends," Aiden said.
Catherine chuckled, and then gave him another one of those sighs that he knew all too well. She reached up and cupped his cheek. He didn't stop her. "No, we can't be. We never were just friends. It's just not possible, not for me, anyway. Besides, you don't need me around when you and Gwen try and make this work." She let her hand drop. "You already have a lot to deal with there. She has those contracts. You have your grandmother."
That caught his attention. "Wait. You mean she has that contract. Just the one."
"No, she definitely mentioned more than one. And I can't see why she would have lied to me then, when she thought we were just a couple of strangers who'd never see each other again."
"What were these contracts for? Do you remember?" Aiden said.
"Sorry, she didn't say. I guess that means you guys have some more things to work out than you first thought... Look, I really wanted to make this dramatic, sexy exit and you're kind of ruining it. Goodbye, Aiden."
"Bye, Catherine," Aiden said. He started to add something about keeping in touch, but stopped himself. This wasn't a keep-in-touch kind of goodbye.
"See? You're finally starting to learn something about women," Catherine said. She slipped out through the door. Aiden watched it shut behind her, listened to the latch shoot back into place.
This time, he knew for certain that he shouldn't chase after the girl.
Now, he thought, if only Gwen would come back from wherever she's run off to. He walked over to the window and looked out at the jagged array of mountain peaks.
Chapter 17
"So where are we going, again?" Gwen said. She looked out the car window at the unfamiliar streets and unfamiliar buildings as they passed by. Said car window was tinted heavily, so everything appeared as though through a haze of smoke.
The driver had given her jeans and shirt a disapproving look when he'd met her outside the hotel, and she felt out of place sitting on the luxurious leather seats. The car even had that expensive new leather smell to it. Gwen felt poor and out of her depth just sitting there.
She'd been sitting in the back of the car for a solid ten minutes by that point, every moment taking her farther away from the hotel, farther away from Aiden.
She regretted leaving him like that. I really need to work on this whole storming out thing, she thought. If Judith's creepy Swiss butler hadn't given her that message (which had turned out to be less a message and more a command) then she knew she would have run out of steam somewhere in the lobby and gone straight back to the suite.
"I am taking you to tea," the driver said again cryptically. He spoke with the same thick accent as the bartender she'd encountered that other time she'd stormed out on Aiden. Which didn't bode well, in Gwen's opinion.
"And where is that, exactly?" Gwen replied.
"How do you Americans say it? The downtown."
"Oh. Well, that clears everything up." Gwen got the distinct impression that Judith had instructed the man to behave this way. To annoy her and throw her off balance.
If that was the case, then Judith didn't know what she had coming. Gwen redirected her anger, focusing it on the old woman.
She also looked out the window as they passed through an intersection. Without the buildings blocking her view for a few moments, she could again see the white-capped mountains in the distance.
That reminded her of the view they had from her suite. And of Aiden, sitting in that suite all by himself.
Why di
dn't he come after me? Gwen wondered. He should have come after me! Doesn't he know that by now?
Of course, it was probably for the best that he hadn't. He would have seen Judith's butler deliver that message, and Gwen had no idea how she would have figured a way around not telling him about the other agreement that she'd made with his grandmother.
Thinking about Aiden made her think about how she'd betrayed him, however involuntarily, with Ben. And how she still couldn't bring herself to tell him about that. However, all those thoughts stoked her inner fires, turning up the thermostat on her anger towards that terrible, meddling old bat.
If Judith hadn't decided to step into her and Aiden's affairs, then none of this would have happened.
In the end, it all came back to the old woman.
The car slowed, the inertia forcing Gwen forward against the seatbelt straps across her shoulder and waist.
"We have arrived," the driver said, stepping out. Looking through the windshield, Gwen saw that they'd pulled up into a line of expensive cars. Bentleys, Rolls Royces, limos of various sorts. All of them glossy black. How come rich people always had black cars?
It was a question to ponder another time, losing priority to such inquiries as What am I doing here and What does Judith have planned for me this time?
The driver opened the door and offered her a white-gloved hand to assist in her exit. She accepted, hauling herself out into the sun once more. She found herself looking up into the facade of a grand old building three stories high. It had steepled turrets at each corner, an immaculate white paint job, and many tall, arched windows.
"It was a royal building several centuries ago, yes? Now, a place for tea and society," the driver said, cluing into her awe struck look.
There was also a sign above the two tall doors that served as the front entrance. It was in German. She turned to ask the driver what it said, but the man already climbed back into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut. Turning back, she then noticed the pair of guardsmen standing on either side of the doors. They wore Napoleonic-era uniforms with sashes and rather ridiculous caps. And each of them gripped a long, spear-like weapon with its butt on the ground and its blade pointed at a precise angle.
Fancy, Gwen thought. She wondered if they would let her in, or if they would smell the commoner on her and boot her back to the curb.
"What now?" Gwen said, realizing that she stood on the broad sidewalk all by herself. Maybe it was the wind coming down off the mountains, or a cloud passing by the sun, but a sudden chill washed through Gwen, making her wish that she'd also remembered to grab a jacket in addition to her purse before storming out.
I'll put that on the storming-out checklist for next time, she thought.
Another limo pulled up, then. Its driver stepped out and opened the back door, helping three well-dressed women out of the back. All three were older, though not quite as advanced in years as Judith. All three wore long white gloves that reached their elbows. Two wore furs around their necks, which thankfully hid the necklines of their dresses. The third covered her cleavage with a large pendant that seemed determined to throw her off balance and send her tumbling forward.
Without hesitation, the trio started straight for the doors. Not knowing what else to do, Gwen followed them. As they approached, each guard grabbed the latch of the door closest to them and pulled, swinging the entrance open.
Gwen got inside and stopped again, finding herself standing in another massive foyer. This one didn't have all that modern chic that the hotel did. In fact, all the wood paneling gave it an almost rustic feeling. Lush red carpet with a diamond patterning to it lent the space warmth.
Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each one done cunningly to look as though they still contained hundreds of candles, but upon closer inspection were actually small light bulbs.
Someone used to live here? Gwen thought. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like. The sheer wealth required to maintain such a place. The staff there to maintain and serve. The weight of history pressed down on her rather narrow, shirt-clad shoulders.
And she didn't even notice the tuxedo-wearing man standing behind the desk until he cleared his throat.
"Ma'am, may I help you?" he said, dropping directly into English.
"Oh, yes. I hope so, anyway," Gwen replied, trying to keep from gawking at the marble busts and statues that were set into little alcoves around the walls.
This man also had a thin mustache, and she wondered if that was the style for all Swiss maitre-ds or not.
He wasn't impressed by her choice of attire. She could tell by the way his lips pressed together when he gave her a disapproving once-over.
"The tour group for the manor is not scheduled until tomorrow afternoon, miss. Perhaps you should return then."
"Oh, I'm not here for the tour."
"Then may I ask why?" The tone of his voice told her that he wished those ornamental guards out front had crossed their spear things and denied her entry.
"Actually, I'm here for tea. Which is actually kind of strange, now that I think about it. I thought high tea was only for British people and New Yorkers who wanted to pretend to be British."
"I assure you, it is not. However, attending high tea requires a reservation. I am assuming you have a reservation?"
"No. I was invited by Judith Manning."
His eyes widened slightly, and she knew he recognized the name. In fact, she doubted if anyone who ever met Judith ever truly forgot about her. She stuck around like morning breath.
"Oh, yes," he said, tugging at his suddenly uncomfortable bow tie, "She did mention a guest." He ran his fingertip down a list of names in front of him, stopping a little over halfway down the page. "You are Gwendolyn Browning, yes?"
"Yes," Gwen said.
"This way, please," he said, coming out from behind his desk and motioning her to follow him. They went deeper into the manor, going through another set of ornate doors. Old painted portraits hung on the wall in gilded frames. Men in long wigs standing around. Men in long wigs riding horses. Women holding children and sitting in gardens, that sort of thing.
Soon, Gwen heard the sound of muted conversation, and sharp noises that could only be delicate bone china tea cups being set down or picked up from their saucers. Strains of classical music lilted out as well. Probably another quartet, Gwen thought. Recorded music was probably too bourgeois or something.
Another man in a tux, this one with his dark hair slicked in a side part, greeted them at the entrance to the tea room.
Beyond him, Gwen got a glimpse of this latest trap. Lots of women in dresses, most of them with those long white gloves. They ate finger sandwiches from tall platters, or sipped at their tea.
"Miss Gwendolyn Browning, here to join Madam Judith Manning for tea," the maitre d' said. Both he and the door man gave Gwen another disapproving look.
"This way, please," the door man said.
Gwen followed him into the lion's den. Almost as soon as Gwen crossed the threshold she felt the eyes begin clinging to her. Silence passed in her wake, followed by whispers. There had to be almost a hundred women in the room.
Even a few of the waiters, bringing fresh pots of tea or fresh trays of dainties, paused in their tasks.
The hair on the back of Gwen's neck bristled. She didn't belong here. That sentiment exuded from every surface around her.
And she knew it was right. She knew that she didn't belong there. Not like that, at least. Not dressed in comfy street clothes, having done the bare minimum to her hair to come outside that day.
However, she knew that was how Judith wanted it. She could see the purpose of all this. Judith wanted to ostracize her, to show her just how much she didn't belong in this sphere of society.
But the thing was, had the circumstances been different. Gwen probably would have enjoyed this. She would have loved sorting through her dresses to find just the right thing, loved going through Google Image Search to find the best way to do her h
air up. And those long white gloves just looked plain fun.
"Gwendolyn Browning," the footman announced, drawing up to Judith's table.
Judith sat there, of course, flanked by three other women Gwen didn't recognize. Judith's eyes practically glittered with delight when she beheld Gwen, while the other ladies traded looks of disapproval and confusion.
"Gwen, lovely of you to join us. Have a seat, why don't you?" Judith said.
Rather than pulling out her chair, Gwen waited for the footman to do so for her. She thanked him as he seated her.
Judith didn't say anything, clearly having expected her to pull the chair out herself. Point me, Gwen thought. I can do this!
She tried to remember all the Jane Austen novels she'd read, particularly the way people behaved. It was all about manners and class, wasn't it? Well, despite what Judith might assume, Gwen had both.
Though she did wish that Aiden were there, sitting next to her. Not just because he could help her with all this, but because she missed him. Beneath the table, she ran her fingertip over the diamonds of her ring, thankful of its presence on her hand.
"Ladies, Gwendolyn is my grandson's prospective fiancé. You'll have to forgive her; she hasn't yet grown accustomed to this lifestyle."
"Yes," Gwen said, "Nice to meet you all. I am sorry for being so underdressed, but my invitation arrived with such short notice that I had no time to prepare. And I didn't want to disappoint my soon-to-be grandmother by not making an appearance. I do hope you'll forgive me."
"Forgiven but not forgotten," Judith said. The ladies at her sides smiled. "Allow me to introduce Cordelia Astor, Dame Eleanor Smythe, and Claudia von Hildebrand."
Dame? Gwen thought, isn't that, like, the female version of a knighthood or something? Gwen smiled, trying to buy some time. The way Judith said their names had the gravitas of aristocracy behind it. How were you supposed to talk to people like that?
"Pleased to meet you all," Gwen said, again feeling out of her depth. They smiled at her with ingrained politeness, but Gwen knew that she'd missed the mark somehow. Point Judith, she thought.