Paper Promise: The Substitute Bride - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

In the morning, a silence hung over all of us, and I felt like an intruder in that family. After the argument in the car, James hadn’t spoken to me once. I know he did it just to punish me in front of everyone.
That’s when the gray-haired maid who had been serving the family for more than three decades approached James with a steaming cup. The soft aroma of herbs spread through the room, and something unexpected happened - he smiled. A gesture as rare as it was welcome on that gray morning.
“This tea has been a miracle for my heartburn,” James commented, holding the cup in both hands, as if absorbing not only the warmth of the drink but also some of the comfort it provided. “It’s never been soothed this effectively before.”
The maid straightened her apron and replied with the pride of someone sharing a secret.
“Lady Laura makes it, boss. She selects the herbs herself and prepares them every morning before the sun rises.”
I felt the weight of his gaze on me. His blue eyes, usually as cold as the winter ocean, examined me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, as if he were trying to decipher an enigma he had just discovered. The silence between us stretched on for a few seconds that seemed eternal.
“I didn’t know you made my tea.”
I hid my hands under the table. I didn’t want him to see that my fingers were shaking.
“My father had a lot of stomach aches from drinking and smoking,” I replied, lowering my eyes slightly to the cup in his hands.
Childhood memories flooded my mind - my father sitting at the kitchen table, his face twisted in pain, while my mother mixed herbs on the wood-burning stove.
“My mother made that same tea for him every night. She taught me every detail, from the exact amount of each herb to the right moment to remove it from the heat. A family recipe, passed down for generations.”
James was silent for a moment, as if processing this minor revelation about my past. His fingers, which usually drummed impatiently when we were in the same room, remained still on the handle of the cup.
“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice devoid of its usual roughness.
Our gazes met briefly, and I sensed a spark of something I’d never seen before - perhaps recognition, perhaps respect.
Hearing James thank me for something was strange, like watching a rose bloom in winter - improbable and surprising. But it was nice to hear.
But I knew his kindness would be short-lived.
I watched him as he sipped his tea. His hands were large and always impeccably manicured, with long fingers that used to tap impatiently on the table when he was irritated - which often happened in my presence. A small birthmark near his left ear was the only imperfection on his face, which looked more like it had been carved out of marble.
“We’re having a meeting by the pool; everyone’s invited,” Margareth announced, interrupting my thoughts.
Her face lit up with a liveliness that contrasted with the tension that still hung in the room. Her eyes sparkled like those of a child planning a prank.
I stared at her, confused by the sudden change of subject and mood. The cup I was holding stopped halfway across the table.
“But today is Wednesday,” I argued, as if the day of the week was reason enough to decline the invitation.
In fact, it was my way of saying that I had an important matter to deal with.
Margareth let out a light, melodious laugh, that sound that always made me feel as if I had said something extremely naïve.
“What’s the problem? It’s not like we really work,” she replied, adjusting the pearl bracelet on her slender wrist. “Life is meant to be enjoyed, darling. You need to learn that.”
“I’m going to help Alice this morning. She couldn’t find anyone to replace me at the bookshop,” I explained, trying to keep my voice steady.
Alice, with her genuine problems and her honest work, represented a haven in that house of appearances.
“Come back on time,” my mother-in-law ordered, her tone instantly changing from amused to authoritative.
It wasn’t a request; it was a command, the kind that left no room for discussion.
James, who, until then, had been observing our interaction in silence, frowned.
“Alice again?” he asked, and I could detect a note of disapproval in his voice, as if my friendship with the owner of a small bookshop was some kind of betrayal of the social class to which they belonged.
“I hope you have a proper outfit this time,” Margareth added, her eyes scanning my simple dress with that appraising look I already knew so well.
I felt a knot forming in my stomach, that familiar feeling of inadequacy that had accompanied me since the first day in that house. The tea I had prepared with such care now felt bitter in my mouth.
“I don’t have any bathing suits,” I confessed, the words coming out almost in a whisper. “I rarely go to the pool or the beach, or yachts.”
My confession was further proof that I didn’t belong in that world.
“You’re a disgrace,” Margareth declared with a theatrical sigh, before letting out a laugh that sounded like breaking crystal.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Her eyes analyzed my figure as if they were appraising second-hand merchandise. “I’m going shopping. Maybe I’ll find something that might fit you, although I doubt there’s such a thing as a miracle-working swimsuit.”
I swallowed the insult with the last sip of my orange juice; the liquid going bitterly down my throat. The glass made a dry noise against the table when I put it down, but no one seemed to notice. In this family, my minor acts of rebellion were as insignificant as raindrops in the ocean.
James looked up from the morning paper, folding it before announcing.
“I won’t be needing your chauffeur services this morning, Laura. I have a meeting in another city and the driver will take me.”
I nodded politely, while inside, a wave of relief washed over me. I mentally thanked myself for not having to spend forty endless minutes locked in the claustrophobic space of the car, breathing the same air as him, feeling his disapproving gaze burn into the back of my head every time I slowed down at a junction or took a corner too carefully. The tension that always built up between us on those journeys was almost palpable - a heavy silence, interrupted only by his occasional impatient sigh.
As soon as the mansion doors closed behind Margareth and James, I allowed myself a discreet smile. I did have an important appointment today, but it wasn’t to help Alice as I had said. The lie weighed on me, but it was necessary. My real destination was the old school where my mother had studied in her youth - the Santa Clara Institute, on the other side of town.
There, I hoped to get information about Veronica, James’ mysterious ex-girlfriend. The one whose name was forbidden to be mentioned in the Reynolds household.
Something told me that Veronica Spencer was the key to understanding the enigmatic man I had married. And perhaps to understand why he treated me so coldly.