With Reginald Summerhill? “I never saw Father dance.”
“That was the first problem with my dream of the future,” her mum said with a self-deprecating smile. “I thought life was like a Shakespearean comedy. Even after my wedding, when it became obvious I wasn’t going to have a happy ending, I still wished it for you girls. That’s why I named you all as I did, after the heroines who’d found love.”
“I used to console myself with the fact that at least you didn’t name me something like Bijou.”
Her mother smiled. “Her name suits her.”
She thought about her brilliant, sparkling friend and grinned. “There’s no doubt about that.”
“When I was pregnant with Imogen, I considered naming her Ophelia because I was feeling less than positive,” Jacqueline admitted.
“Somehow you got over that.”
“Did I?” Her mother studied her.
“Didn’t you?”
“I suppose.” She sighed. “Do you believe in love?”
“Yes,” she said without thought. She’d witnessed it firsthand, with Lara and Anson, and KT and her new husband Chance, and Bijou and Will, who looked at her best friend like she was Christmas every day.
Her mother took her hand, shocking her. “Do you love this man you’ve been seeing?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, although she suspected she might.
“I wish”—Jacqueline shook her head and withdrew, cuddling her cognac to her chest—”I just wish something different for all you girls, and I’m afraid I’ve poisoned you from it, the same way I encouraged all of you to leave.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t encourage us to leave.”
“Didn’t I?” Her mum’s smile was brittle. “I certainly didn’t encourage you girls in any way to foster sisterly love. You’re all strangers to each other.”
“Not Bea.”
Jacqueline chuckled, her expression softening. “Yes, well, Beatrice is the determined one, isn’t she?”
“I think of her as the lynchpin.”
“She had to be.” Her mother’s face grew sad again. She swung her legs down and slipped into her mules before standing. “In the absence of a caring mother.”
“Mum—”
“I’m off to bed.” She started for the door, her glass cradled to her chest. But then she whirled around and returned to drop a kiss on her head. “Goodnight, Rosalind.”
Rosalind wanted to call after her to give her assurances, but she knew they’d both know they wouldn’t be true. The Countess of Amberlin had been absent during their childhoods.
She touched the imprint on the settee where her mum had sat. She liked this new, approachable Jacqueline Summerhill. Hope rose in her chest, wondering if they were finally gaining a real mother.
Chapter Nineteen
Em stared down the hall. Joe was in his office—his door had been closed when she’d arrived this morning, and it was only ever closed when he was in there. She’d been at her post for almost three hours, and he hadn’t come out yet.
Yesterday he’d kissed her.
He’d kissed her.
The phones rang and she picked up the handset blindly. “Orson & Tomlin. How can I direct your call?”
“Yes, can I have—”
The door to his office opened.
Putting the caller on hold, she sat up, but it was only Joe’s assistant who walked out.
Shaking her head, she slumped in her chair. That one kiss had done something to her. She’d been so sure about her course of action, but that kiss had her questioning everything she wanted. She felt like she was spiraling down a path that she didn’t want to follow.
She’d had wanton thoughts because of that kiss last night.
She’d tried everything she could to dislodge it from rooting in her head. She’d opened the book she was reading on the history of salt, but she hadn’t been able to concentrate. She’d made tea but hadn’t been able to drink it because its blandness hadn’t suited her tastes. She’d even taken a cold shower, but her nipples had puckered hard, the way she’d imagine they would if Joe licked them, because he’d take his time and be thorough, slow rasping laps of his tongue, teasing each peak until she was squirming for more.
She’d had mad thoughts because of that kiss.
Thoughts that involved poufy white dresses and forever. Daydreams of being curled up with Joe on their couch, him rubbing her feet as she told him how their children had driven her insane that day.
This was not good, and she didn’t know what to do about it. She nervously strummed her fingers on the desk, staring down the hall.