After college her dad had placed her in the marketing VP position, which she took with open arms. He had left out that it was actually a glorified assistant job to the president, where she would be groomed until her father deemed her ready for advancement. And now it seemed she was ready.
She had been waiting two years for his approval.
Not that she blamed him, but she was incredibly ambitious, and this is what you were supposed to do with your life, right? The American dream was success. And she was a vision of success. She was everything America represented, yet why was it she didn’t have fulfillment? She kept telling herself it was because she was grieving, but maybe it was something more.
Needing a distraction, she grabbed her e-reader and plopped onto her bed. Reading was the only thing she could do to completely take her mind to another place. It was escapism, pure and simple. As much as she loved the Wall Street Journal, her feminine heart still desired romance; thus the reason behind her newest purchase … the latest historical romance in The Vandenbrook Series.
She had an unhealthy obsession with historical romance novels—and not just any historical romance novels, but the ones that were centered around London’s aristocratic society, ironically enough. To tell her father this would make him think he’d won. He could never know.
One time at a bookstore her mother had caused a huge scene at the coffee bar just so Kessen could purchase a book without her dad finding out. Naturally, he was too busy helping her mother to notice Kessen was off buying out the store’s supply of Regency romances. After that incident her mother had bought her an e-reader so she could purchase her books in secret. It was always fun to keep such a silly secret from her dad.
Historical romance provided Kessen the vision of a simpler time, a time when women still wore gloves, when men still bowed each time they were introduced, and when stolen kisses were cause for scandal.
What would it be like to be a part of such a time? She sighed and opened her latest book, The Duke’s Decision.
It was the tenth book in the Vandenbrook series. Their heritage had been traced back to Holland, but the family still resided in London to this day. An internet search had revealed the family has always had strict rules about blue blood matches. Each heir, regardless of the match, must marry a blue blood to keep the lines strong. Apparently it was important; though for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.
She wondered if her blood was blue. Well, it was partially blue; it would have to be, considering her father was an earl, but her mother had been nothing, a nobody. Though her father hated to discuss it, things in his family had never returned to normal once he left London.
How would they accept her now? She was the much-rumored, long-lost daughter, returning to London in order to please her father, in order to inherit his company. Grandmother would be pleased; she had been begging Kessen to visit for years. Her grandfather had passed away shortly after her father had left London; Kessen figured it was from the shock of it all. Her grandmother didn’t shed so much as a tear at his funeral. She said they married for blood, which seemed to be the case with all British aristocrats.
It’s not as if anyone else in the world cared; why should they?
Some things she would never understand, nor did she want to. She glanced back down at her book and bit her lip. She could finish packing later. Right now all she wanted to do was find out if the duke chose the servant girl over the princess.
She threw on her fuzzy boots, grabbed her book, and let herself out onto her balcony. It gave her a grand view of the mountains, a view she would never tire of. She sat in her chair and began reading. “The duke was distressed indeed to learn the identity of the servant girl was, in fact, the princess herself! A switch had been made, a switch of identities.”
Kessen yawned. So the duke got what he wanted after all. The servant girl was actually a princess, and they lived happily ever after. Puke.
That was entirely unrealistic she thought, yet she couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips.
London.
In two days.
London, England.
May God save her … forget the queen.
Chapter Two
Kessen woke up groggy. Proving her theory that nothing good ever happened after ten o’clock. She had stayed up and purchased the next two books in the duke series on her e-reader only to find she couldn’t sleep until everything was resolved.
All in all, she had gotten around two hours of sleep, and it was definitely showing all over her face. She needed to go tanning; she looked like a ghost. She should probably have her roots done as well as her nails. Who knew what the spas were like in London, or if they even had them. After watching some made-for television movies on BBC, she had her doubts.
Kessen went into her large gleaming bathroom and showered before putting on her comfortable sweats and bounding down the stairs. She grabbed a breakfast bar, her new PDA, the keys to her sports car, and ran outside. She needed a spa visit and a coffee. She quickly dialed Nick’s number and waited for him to answer.
“It’s too early,” his voice scratched on the other end. Nick was like a brother to her, and consequently one of the dearest friends she had in this world, not to mention ridiculously attractive and altogether in love with her other best friend, Sammy, who was equally beautiful and charming. They lived down the street from her and were just as much a part of her family as her own father. The wedding had taken place just a few months ago and had been partially paid for by her dad.
He would never admit to how much he actually needed Nick to run the HR department in the local branch of Newberry and Co.
“I’m going to London,” she blurted.
Her revelation was met with a long silence before Nick finally said, “I’ll be right there.”
“I’m going to the spa.”
He mumbled something under his breath she could only assume to being appropriate for her ears, and hung up.
It left her smiling. Nick hated the spa, mainly because Sammy loved the spa and often forced him to join her there so she could show him off to all the nice old ladies who worked there. He usually escaped with only having to succumb to a pedicure, but he considered it a knock to his manhood.
But he loved Sammy. So although it nearly killed him each time she asked, he would often accompany his wife on spa day. He just refused to enjoy it. In fact, though he wasn’t one to drink, he consumed a ridiculous amount of champagne while he sat in the plush chairs, as if someone was purposely torturing him.
“Inside, he probably likes it—though he’ll die before admitting it,” Sammy had told Kessen one day.