15 Surprise husband

The mansion was even mouldier and fusty since she had left it. Layla didn't know it had been possible. Nothing had changed apart from the level of damp and darkness. It seemed to be stuck in a time warp.

If her parents needed money, couldn't they just sell the mansion? The land should be high value. Why did they need her instead?

She knew the answer of course.

Tradition. Selling off a mansion that had been in the family for centuries was considered akin to killing the family name.

"Your mother is in bed," her father said sternly. "Go to your bedroom and make yourself presentable. You don't to horrify her any more than you have already."

Layla glared at him and strode to her bedroom. Everything was as it was on that night nine years ago. She felt like she had been sucked right back into her old life and was 18 again.

The outfit she picked was most certainly Lady Huntington approved. It consisted of a pink twinset and a tweed skirt. She added a string of pearls for extra approval and pushed a brush through her hair.

She wasn't going as far as make up though. She didn't love her mother that much.

Her mother certainly looked the part of a patient. She was lying in bed with her hand lying weakly on top of the covers and her eyes were closed. Layla almost felt sympathy for her.

The effect was ruined when her mother opened her eyes, saw her and spoke with an acidic tone.

"You've gained weight. You're going on a diet immediately. No one wants to marry a fat rich girl who ran away from her parents."

Layla sucked in a breath. It was hard to not swear at her mother. Then again, why couldn't she say it how it was? She didn't want to be here, it was her parents that needed her, not the other way.

"Please, mother. Don't you need me otherwise you'll waste away in this mouldy mansion without a penny to the Huntington name? That's no way to talk to me. Are you even a lady like you claim to be?"

"Such impudence," her mother growled. "You haven't changed much, just gained weight."

Layla shrugged. "Whatever."

"Ugh," her mother said in disgust. "Yes, we need you desperately. The man we have lined up for you to marry is the cousin of your original match."

She hadn't even spared a moment to wonder what her match could have been in the nine years since she left so she didn't bother thinking too much about the cousin factor.

"How quickly am I marrying him?" she asked.

It was best to get the hard questions over with first and that was the hardest. Surely it couldn't be an instant marriage the next day at the registry office. Her parents would want a grand ceremony. It would be odd if they didn't.

"In a fortnight," her mother replied. "You're meeting him tomorrow. It would be sooner, but we need to get you a dress made. I had a feeling you would have gained weight."

Who knew it would be her few extra pounds that delayed the wedding? She wasn't even fat like her mother claimed. She just still had a baby face and a few extra pounds spare in weight.

"Do I have the pleasure of knowing who it is before I meet him tomorrow?" Layla asked.

Her mother pointed to the nightstand where there was an envelope next to her expensive skincare products.

"His photo and basic information are in there. You can take it now."

Layla paused for a moment in doubt. The moment she picked up the envelope, she would have fully accepted the idea of marrying whoever's name and photo were inside there. Naturally she was very wary to make that step.

"Just take it," her mother snapped.

Layla picked it up with two fingers like it was a virus that would cause an endemic.

Lady Huntington rolled her eyes very well for someone who was supposed to be ill.

"Please," she scoffed. "Just go with it. You've had your fun with your silly baking."

It was Layla's turn to turn her nose up.

"Unlike you, I've actually been handling large amounts of money. It feels good to earn money," she paused. "Ah, you don't know how that feels. You just watch it dwindle away."

She didn't know what was letting her say these things, but she was willing to let it continue on. Her childhood had been spent keeping her feelings bottled up, she wasn't going back to feeling like that.

"Just leave," her mother sighed. "You can do what you want for the rest of the day."

***

The highlight of her day turned out to be dinner. She made a simple meal with what she could find in the kitchen and what she had brought with her and her parents magically appeared in the dining room.

"Do I have to share?" Layla asked in confusion.

Surely pasta wasn't anything they liked. She knew what she had been raised on and store brought pasta hadn't been included.

"We're less picky at the moment," her mother snapped.

Layla returned to the kitchen and ladled out another two portions that she'd been saving for another meal.

"What happened to everyone that worked here?" she enquired when she had served them.

Her parents exchanged looks and she knew she hadn't simply missed the kitchen staff when she'd cooked dinner.

"We had a parting of ways…" her father said with a tinge of shame.

Layla nodded and then frowned. What had they been living on? She could not imagine her parents cooking or even ordering a Chinese takeaway.

Then again, why should she care? She shrugged and dug into her dinner.

"Not too much pasta," her mother interrupted. "You have a dress fitting tomorrow. I'm accompanying you."

Layla rolled her eyes and continued eating. Her mother was still as charming as she had been.

"I'll go out tomorrow for food shopping for myself," she said to make them feel highly uncomfortable.

Her parents exchanged looks again.

"Would you like to include us?" her father asked formally.

"Why should I?" Layla questioned with a raised eyebrow.

A sore spot had been hit. She could tell by the looks on their faces and the fact that her mother wasn't calling her names.

"I'll let you choose between a selection of dresses tomorrow," her mother eventually said.

Hearing the offer of having a minor choice from her mother's mouth and no insult on the end made her dismal day.

***

The bad news was that her mother was still accompanying her to the appointment. Layla recognised the dressmakers immediately from her childhood. The dress for her 16th birthday came from there and she remembered that it was expensive.

"Mother, where is the money for this coming from?" she enquired whilst they were waiting outside the consultation room.

Her mother sniffed. "We set some money aside for your wedding and the preparations before. This comes under preparations."

The selection of dresses turned out to be surprisingly lovely. Layla just knew they weren't her style. She wasn't into close fitting clothes. She went through the rack again and sighed.

She turned to her mother who was sitting down and tapping her fingers annoyingly on the coffee table.

"Which was the one you originally had in mind?"

The staff member accompanying her politely gestured to a light frothy pink dress at the end of the rail. It reminded Layla of her 16th birthday dress, her mother clearly had a preference for a certain style.

"I'll try it on," she said eventually and the assistant led her to the changing room.

The result of the colour and style was that she looked five years younger. Her mother was visibly happy with the results.

"I like it," she said and clapped her hands.

Layla frowned. She didn't want to look younger, she wanted to at least feel something had changed in her life. She pointed to a dress that she would never normally had picked out, a tighter red dress.

"I'll try it," she said and her mother sighed. Clearly she didn't like it.

Their pair returned home with the red dress in a bag. Layla had got the better of her mother and was feeling a little more content with her situation.

It still didn't change the fact that she was going to be meeting her future husband tomorrow. Her mother had booked a beauty salon appointment in the morning to do her make up because apparently she looked haggard and dry.

She collapsed on her bed in exhaustion and rolled over. The ubiquitous envelope was on her bedside stable and caught her eye.

Should she open it now?

It would help to know what he was going to look like beforehand.

She opened the envelope with a shaking hand and a photo fell out. She saw the face before it landed on her bed and gasped.

It couldn't be him...

***

Lucas readjusted his tie and took a look at his reflection in the mirror. He undeniably had bags under his eyes and didn't look anywhere as good as he normally did. His hair looked a little lifeless as well.

Not that it mattered. He was only going to meet another woman his mother had picked out for him at a restaurant for lunch. She must have had a long list just in case he didn't like Harriet as it was only the day after his birthday.

The restaurant had been chosen by his mother and was a very posh French restaurant with a very long waiting list for reservations. He had expected nothing more from Lady Ainsworth. If he was lucky, she wouldn't be sitting at the next table.

He arrived at the restaurant promptly at the agreed time and gave his name to the man at the door. His mother had booked a private room so they wouldn't be disturbed. He followed the waiter and squinted when they passed the open door of the first private room.

The man sitting in there was his cousin Zachery.

"I'm just going to speak to that man," he said to the waiter and entered the room.

His cousin was sitting opposite a lady in a tight fitting red dress with her brown hair in a bun. She was looking down at the table so he couldn't see her face.

"Are you on a date?" he asked.

His cousin grinned. "I have an arranged marriage as well."

Lucas looked at the woman again who was looking straight at him this time. She was very familiar to him.

It was Layla.