tapped on the door, the reverberation vibrating up her spine. “Spill your secrets, Harper. What happens in the hallway stays in the hallway.”
Heat bloomed in her cheeks at his words. He ’ d protected her from the overeager eyes of Mrs. Vander when Harper had gotten carried away in the hallway the other night. Now wasn ’ t that a politically correct way of saying “had an orgasm against his leg in public.” Chuckling despite herself, Harper shifted to a more comfortable position and scooped up another spoonful of ice cream. “I overturned hundreds of years of family tradition.”
“By slapping your husband on TV?”
“No.” She shook her head. “By doing what you advised. I didn ’ t seethe only on the inside. I let my ugly hang out for the world to see, and that ’ s just not done.”
The level of pistachio ice cream in the pint dropped as she told Dodge about growing up as a potential president ’ s daughter. Boarding school. Debutante school. Elite Ivy League private university. Her parents ’ schooling that centered on the proper way for a popular politician ’ s daughter to behave at home and in public. None of them had been what anyone with half a heart would call touchy-feely. All of it culminated in her practically arranged marriage to the up-and-coming senator from Vermont.
“Saying it out loud makes it sound all the more bizarre. I was an eighteenth century daughter in a twenty-first century world, and I never thought twice about it. I did what I was told.”
“So what made you change?”
On the next breath she was tossed back in time to that moment when her husband, who ’ d publicly humiliated her by cheating—repeatedly—turned to her at that press conference with every expectation that she ’ d fall in line with the strategy. That she ’ d forgive him so the voters could, too. She should have been furious, but she was too brokenhearted when she realized that she ’ d never given him or anyone else reason to believe that she wanted to be more than a pawn in someone else ’ s political schemes. Where there should have been fire, there had been only ice.
“I couldn ’ t do it anymore.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “Standing on that dais with the press chomping at the bit a few feet away and my ex-husband on his knees in front of me after I told him that the press conference was the last thing I ’ d ever be doing as his wife, I realized that he didn ’ t believe me. He didn ’ t take me any more seriously than anyone else in the world. Despite my perfect GPA, the functioning brain in my head, and the fact that it wasn ’ t the 1700s, he—along with everyone else—had accepted the perfect political princess image as the real me. I didn ’ t even know who I was anymore. All I knew was how to act as the power behind the throne, doing whatever it took to further the ambitions of those around me. It may not have started with me, but I ’ d allowed the farce to go on for much longer than it should ’ ve, and that infuriated me.”
The epiphany had hit her with the force of a wrecking ball, shattering every false belief into a million pieces. “With that single slap, I broke free. I ’ m never going to go back to being the old Harper ever again. I’m my own woman and not a pawn in someone else’s plot and plans to be moved around the board as he or she sees fit.”
She ’ d been on a high until the next morning paper hit her door with a thud, followed shortly thereafter by her mother in full-on dowager duchess mode as if by will alone the older woman could turn herself into the ever proper iron-fisted women in the Regency romances Harper loved to read. But she hadn ’ t relented. That had been the first small step toward independence and being in charge of her own destiny.
“So what ’ s next for such a rabble-rouser as yourself?” Dodge asked, bringing her back to the present.
Wasn ’ t that the question she seemed to always be asking herself now? She
Heat bloomed in her cheeks at his words. He ’ d protected her from the overeager eyes of Mrs. Vander when Harper had gotten carried away in the hallway the other night. Now wasn ’ t that a politically correct way of saying “had an orgasm against his leg in public.” Chuckling despite herself, Harper shifted to a more comfortable position and scooped up another spoonful of ice cream. “I overturned hundreds of years of family tradition.”
“By slapping your husband on TV?”
“No.” She shook her head. “By doing what you advised. I didn ’ t seethe only on the inside. I let my ugly hang out for the world to see, and that ’ s just not done.”
The level of pistachio ice cream in the pint dropped as she told Dodge about growing up as a potential president ’ s daughter. Boarding school. Debutante school. Elite Ivy League private university. Her parents ’ schooling that centered on the proper way for a popular politician ’ s daughter to behave at home and in public. None of them had been what anyone with half a heart would call touchy-feely. All of it culminated in her practically arranged marriage to the up-and-coming senator from Vermont.
“Saying it out loud makes it sound all the more bizarre. I was an eighteenth century daughter in a twenty-first century world, and I never thought twice about it. I did what I was told.”
“So what made you change?”
On the next breath she was tossed back in time to that moment when her husband, who ’ d publicly humiliated her by cheating—repeatedly—turned to her at that press conference with every expectation that she ’ d fall in line with the strategy. That she ’ d forgive him so the voters could, too. She should have been furious, but she was too brokenhearted when she realized that she ’ d never given him or anyone else reason to believe that she wanted to be more than a pawn in someone else ’ s political schemes. Where there should have been fire, there had been only ice.
“I couldn ’ t do it anymore.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “Standing on that dais with the press chomping at the bit a few feet away and my ex-husband on his knees in front of me after I told him that the press conference was the last thing I ’ d ever be doing as his wife, I realized that he didn ’ t believe me. He didn ’ t take me any more seriously than anyone else in the world. Despite my perfect GPA, the functioning brain in my head, and the fact that it wasn ’ t the 1700s, he—along with everyone else—had accepted the perfect political princess image as the real me. I didn ’ t even know who I was anymore. All I knew was how to act as the power behind the throne, doing whatever it took to further the ambitions of those around me. It may not have started with me, but I ’ d allowed the farce to go on for much longer than it should ’ ve, and that infuriated me.”
The epiphany had hit her with the force of a wrecking ball, shattering every false belief into a million pieces. “With that single slap, I broke free. I ’ m never going to go back to being the old Harper ever again. I’m my own woman and not a pawn in someone else’s plot and plans to be moved around the board as he or she sees fit.”
She ’ d been on a high until the next morning paper hit her door with a thud, followed shortly thereafter by her mother in full-on dowager duchess mode as if by will alone the older woman could turn herself into the ever proper iron-fisted women in the Regency romances Harper loved to read. But she hadn ’ t relented. That had been the first small step toward independence and being in charge of her own destiny.
“So what ’ s next for such a rabble-rouser as yourself?” Dodge asked, bringing her back to the present.
Wasn ’ t that the question she seemed to always be asking herself now? She
Similar Books
