Compromising Kessen (Vandenbrook #1)(14)

“Lovely,” Kessen found herself saying, even though she wondered if her grandmother’s vision was also going with her height.

“Oh, my love! Let me look at you!” her grandmother twirled her like only cute old British grandmothers could do, and sighed. “The future Duke of Albany will love you in this! Oh, he will adore you. He must marry this year, you know.” She nudged Kessen in the side as if to say “take the hint.”

Kessen wanted to gag. Marriage was the last thing she wanted. It sounded worse than her poorly written romance novels. “Um, thanks, Grandmother. But I think … well, I don’t think I’m ready for marriage quite yet.”

Her grandmother’s face paled as if her granddaughter had just confessed that she liked cats more than men.

“Oh dear, oh dear.” Her grandmother sank onto the bed as if she was having a stroke.

“Are you okay?” Kessen rushed to her side. “Grandmother? Can you hear me?”

When Kessen reached her side, she was grabbed by the brittle yet irritatingly strong hand, and pulled down to the old woman’s face. “Listen here, Kessen. You will marry soon; you must marry soon. I need to see great-grandbabies before I keel over and die!”

Kessen didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or do both. “Okay, Grandmother. I … I’ll try.” Because what else can you say to your eighty-eight year old British grandmother? No? She didn’t know the meaning of the word. It would be like asking her to compose a Tweet. Rather than get online, she would write a song about a bird.

It took nearly ten minutes for Kessen to coax her grandmother out of her room, and around ten promises that she would dance with the future duke, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do and it rated just about as high as driving nails into her hand.





Chapter Six


Kessen bit her lip as she waited at the top of the stairs and heard the announcement of her name. Prayers were sent up in rapid succession as she focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not falling, or worse, bringing down her old grandmother with her.

Once she descended the marble staircase she looked up. Hundreds of people were gaping at her. It was as if while saying her name, the announcer had also pointed out she was, in fact, from America and was here to wage war against Britain. It was at that point Kessen was tempted to walk up to every Brit in the room and mumble, “God save the queen,” just so she could gain a little bit of respect.

Instead they eyed her suspiciously. “I have no knives! No nuclear weapons!” she wanted to say, but she didn’t. Rather, she smiled and was led to the first of the many groups of people her grandmother wanted to introduce her to.

Two hours into the ball, Kessen was feeling overwhelmed and fatigued. What she needed was coffee, but she didn’t want to embarrass her grandmother by actually saying it out loud. She would most likely be kicked from the highest social circles in disgrace, because of her ungrateful and stupid granddaughter who chose coffee over tea when she needed a caffeine rush.

She took a moment to figure out her options. Both refreshment tables were scattered with boring people she had already met, and the only way to her grandmother was through a young gentleman who had asked how much it cost to spend a night with her. No, thank you.

Then she saw it—a way out. A door was hidden in the far corner, and it led outside. Maybe if she just got a little fresh air she would feel better. Kessen darted to the door once the coast was clear and slipped outside, looking behind her to make sure nobody was following.

“Hmmmffff,” something masculine in front of her said. It was large and muscular and…

She closed her eyes praying to disappear.

“You know, you’ve actually done that to me twice now.”

“Ran into you?” she asked.

Christian laughed. “No. Closed your eyes in hopes of disappearing. It doesn’t work that way, America.”

She mouthed his words in a whiny voice and went to overlook the balcony. “I didn’t mean to run into you. I’m just tired, and there’s no coffee. And even if I wanted it, it would most likely cause great scandal. I love my grandmother and don’t want her getting kicked out of her bridge groups if people judge her based on my decisions, and—”

Christian had his hand to her mouth. ”My word, America, do you ever cease talking?”

She shook her head no, and then felt a little ashamed when her eyes welled up with tears. The familiar knot in her throat built up. Seeing her grandmother made her all the more sad about her mom, then the stress of the night and knowing that she had a tendency to cry when she was tired made her feel like she was riding an emotional rollercoaster.

Something in Christian’s eyes changed. The blue icy tones turned almost sincere and warm as he smiled and removed his glove. He was absolutely the most handsome man Kessen had ever seen. Had he just been touching her mouth? Had she just been blabbing about her grandmother getting kicked out of bridge?

She started to back away from him in sheer horror of her behavior when he tugged her arm and said, “Follow me.”

Now, in her books she had read this was a big no-no, but honestly, that was during Regency times. There was no possible way they held people to the same standards nowadays. Surely people who snuck away together without chaperones weren’t forced to marry. But just in case, she kept a few feet away from him as he led her to the back of the house.