Heaven And Hell novel Chapter 72

"You do that."

When he was gone, I punched the wall rather soundly. I was so frustrated.

"Now what am I going to do to make her believe me?"

"My dear boy," Grandmama's voice suddenly filled the hall, startling both Frederick and I. "I believe I have an idea." She smiled serenely like we'd never seen before. "Shall we mull this over a nice cup of tea?"

In an hour, the ball would begin.

Security was already in motion, walking everywhere in the giant, one hundred and eighty-three bedroom mansion. There were already guests down to the Venetian ballroom, as what it's called, and everyone was just waiting patiently -- and impatiently -- for the "glittering stars" of the party.

I was in my own room now, scrolling through my text messages on my new iPhone, a gift from Lady Cutting, who pitied me not having a decent one. It was rare, as they said, to see Lady Cutting show any pity or sympathy or whatever kindness you could think of from her.

As soon as I got my new phone, I immediately called Grams' back home, but no one answered. Not even my annoying brother Tommy. I kept worrying about it but one of the maids assured me that my grandmother was fine. Maybe she just went out to the grocer? Picked up Tommy? Tended to Cookie's needs? I resisted rolling my eyes on that one.

"You look beautiful," Perry Prince, my hairstylist, said.

"Totally!" seconded Connie Richwell, my makeup artist who came all the way to Los Angeles hours ago for the soon-to-be Marchioness of Sterling and, someday, Duchess of Rossington.

From the moment Perry and Connie's L.A. team came inside my bedroom, I never looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't want to.

So two of the team's girls painted my nails a neautral color of pearl, while Perry and his style team went about my hair, blow-drying it and straightening my stubborn waves and curls for nearly two hours. Connie, on the other hand, put professional makeup on my bare face with her own team.

Before they put on my makeup, though, they scrubbed it with some cream and a damp towel with rosewater scents. I was in a white fluffy robe, avoiding the mirror as I tried to distract myself by trying to call Grams in the States, and touching the edges of Lady Cutting's old, ancient diary that I knew she forgot about through the years.

I hadn't read the diary in a while, but when I read it, she never went on with her scheme, which was to humiliate Aurora Carter. She only wrote this:

I would feel ashamed of myself had I ever done what I thought I should have done.

-Margaret

I kept leafing through it while the L.A. team of stylists hovered over me and hearing some catchy pop love song. For some reason, I made one of the crew stop the music, begging them to change it to something less romantic. They played a song by the group, Aqua. The song before that really made me feel queasy. I closed my eyes, leaving Lady C's old diary in my lap, closed.

"You know," Connie said, "you can be a model! You have the height, the face, everything. Though you're more curvy than the models."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I told her, forcing a smile. I went toward the dowager's diary and placed it inside the bathroom, under the sink filled with shampoos and other essential needs.

I went out and gave the crew a hug instead of air-kisses, thanking them; then I left my room, heading toward the only place where I felt good. When I entered the library, I halted, seeing the dowager seated near the window, cane in hand as usual.

When she turned to look at the intruder, she smiled slowly and urged me to come to her. She was dressed in an elegant gown from Chanel, her hands clad in white silk gloves. For a moment, I didn't see Lady Cutting as her age right now. I saw Margaret Swinton, beautiful and angelic.

She motioned for me to sit across from her and as I obeyed, she eyed me carefully. "Still feeling troubled, I see," she said softly.

I didn't speak. I only looked away out the window, seeing the view of the vast estate grounds.

"He didn't truly intend to do what he did yesterday, on purpose, you know," Lady Cutting went on. I didn't have to ask who "he" was. My jaw clipped. I twirled my bracelet with my other hand. "He told me the truth. And Michael never lies to me. I know when he does."

I snapped. "If you're here to apologize on behalf of your grandson, then I think I'll just leave and head downstairs." I began to rise, but the dowager barked my name and told me to cease. I grumbled, narrowing my eyes at her.