Page 1 of Theirs to Treasure
CHAPTERONE
Harper
“Oh my God!I can’t find it!” Caroline screeches from across the room.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. My younger sister is adorable, but often flighty. Right now, she’s looking for the ring I’m supposed to slip on Edward’s finger in less than three hours. “I’m sure it’s there somewhere.”Am I reassuring her or myself?
“Harper! Will you listen to me? It’s not here,” she insists miserably.
Even though my stylist is sweeping my hair into an elegant updo, I angle my head so that I can look at Caroline’s reflection in the mirror.
Like me, her dress is covered by a hot pink robe. Both have sparkly rhinestones on the back. My reads Bride, while hers says Maid of Honor.
In a single move, she upends her purse and dumps the contents onto the table in the bridal room of Vegas’s exclusive L’Impero Hotel.
Because I’m accustomed to my sister’s dramatics, I take a deep breath. There’s nothing to panic about.
Determinedly I ignore the silver of doubt that whispers,Yet.
Caro was with Edward and I the day we picked up our matching wedding bands. He carefully tucked mine inside his suit coat, while Caroline promised that she would keep track of his.
“After all, you have plenty of other details to worry about,”she’d told me.
At least a million of them, it seemed, with more added every day.
Despite our family’s dire financial circumstances, my mother insisted on an extravagant affair. I would have preferred a much smaller event. But because Edward wanted to be introduced to as many of Houston’s elite as he could, he’d sided with her. I’d given up trying to fight them both.
At this point, though, I’d happily elope—something neither Mother nor Edward would ever contemplate.
“What are we going to do?” Caro demands miserably, wide-eyed as she looks at me.
“Look again.” I keep my voice soothing. “I’m sure the box is there.”
“That’s the problem. I took the ring out of the box before we left the room because my clutch is so tiny.” Desperation has crept into her voice. “But I double-checked before we left the room. I swear I did.”
Now I’m alarmed, and my heart begins to race.
At that moment, our mother breezes into the room. “Hello, my darlings! It’s almost time!” Gwendolyn Pembrooke is all smiles, beaming with pride.
And why wouldn’t she be happy? Each moment that ticks by brings me closer to being Mrs. Edward Beaumont which means she’s that much closer to receiving a big, fat, juicy check with her name on it. In return for his two-million-dollar investment, Edward will receive the social standing that comes with marrying into the esteemed Pembrooke family.
As I’ve heard more times than I can count, our lineage goes all the way back to the founding of Texas. According to lore, one of the relatives on my father’s side fought at the Alamo. And one of Mother’s ancestors served in the first Texas legislature. There are buildings bearing our name on college campuses as far away as Dallas.
Unfortunately we lost almost all the family money a few years ago when my dad fell for a Ponzi-type scheme—something that still infuriates my mother. How could he be so stupid?
Because of their financial situation, they’ve been forced to quietly liquidate some assets while frantically searching for a way back to great wealth. My parents have kept up appearances, not breathing a word about their crisis to anyone, not even close family. After all, the scandal would destroy her.
Edward—according to her—is the Pembrooke savior.
I need to be the perfect wife and so very grateful for his attention, which suits me fine.
Though our parents introduced us, and I understood this was an arranged marriage, I’ve fallen in love with handsome, successful Edward. The way he looks at me—with simmering heat and intensity—makes my toes curl, and I can’t wait to finally consummate our marriage.
With a proud smile, he tells me he adores the fact I’m a virgin. Even though he’s frustrated me to no end with his kisses and teasing, he’s been firm in his resolve not to despoil me until our wedding night.
I’ve protested his ridiculous, antiquated notion, but he’s refused to budge, no matter how hard I try to tempt him by wearing skimpy lingerie and, even once, giving him a lap dance.
My mother crosses to us, and she studies me critically. “You’re pale, darling.”