I slid my phone into my pocket as I lowered myself into the chair across from my mother, her entire expression set in a dour scowl and in complete contrast to the cheerful pastels and gold trimming that decorated the tea room.

Forty minutes, had read Cynthia's last text. 4-0 minutes till meeting w/ the board.

I took a deep, steadying breath as I plastered a toothy grin & nodded in greeting.

Forty minutes, I reminded myself again. Forty minutes to tell my mother the news, soothe any hurt feelings, rally her support, and hopefully make it back to my office alive and on time or risk facing my sister's wrath.

"Good afternoon, Mother. I—"

"I never expected this from you, Thomas. Out of the three of you, I always pegged you as the one least likely to pull something like this."

She shook her head in apparent disgusting, sending her short blonde tresses flowing in rippling waves. Her eyes shifted between me and the tray-ladened waiters buzzing around us.

"Mum, please..." I whispered, leaning forward slightly.

She pouted her lower lip and shrugged one shoulder. "This is why you brought me here, isn't it?"

"I asked you to tea to—"

"To tell me of your not-so-secret engagement to that girl—" She cut in, her cool mask beginning to slip and unveil an anger roiling near to the surface.

My own temper flared at her tone. "Her name is—"

"Who you've been seeing for all of how many months?"

I hesitated before answering. "Three..."

"And you brought me here to this extravagant tea parlor," she continued on in a near hiss, her eyes flicking pointedly to the ostentatious golden cherubs that flanked the crown molding, furniture, and nearly every other surface of the room. "So that I would not make a scene about it when you finally managed to work up the courage to tell me. Isn't that right?"

Silently, I held her gaze until I could bear the searing of her icy glare no longer and dropped my own to the floral centerpiece sitting on the table between.

My mother nodded at my confirmation. "You manipulated all of this, Thomas. So now I am here playing my part."

I watched as she reached for her still steaming cup of tea and took a long, steadying sip. Sighing, I sat back in my chair.

"Are you really so surprised?" I asked after a minute. "Matilda was the one who always obeyed protocols, even when we were little. It was Cynthia and me who were always the ones to cause a ruckus."

"But you were always the sentimental one. I would have thought you would have at least asked for my ring, if not my blessing."

I closed my eyes briefly as the sting of her words lingered in my chest. I had expected her outrage for my breach of likely half a dozen royal protocols. I had anticipated it and, in fact, tailored my apologies to it accordingly. But what I hadn't anticipated for was the hurt clearly evident in her voice and the cold rage glistening behind her eyes.

At that moment, I wished Cynthia or even Matilda were there for they both knew how to manage our mother better than I ever did. They knew what soothing words to utter and what promises to make and what excuses to steadfastly avoid. I, however, did not. Being the youngest and the only boy, I enjoyed the luxury of near-automatic forgiveness from my mother. Growing up, my father had admittedly been much more demanding of me as his son, but with time—and in comparing my indiscretions to Charlie's—he stopped interfering with my life and preferred just to observe from the sidelines.

However, given the news of my and Emma's rumored engagement, I was mildly surprised he had not seen it necessary to join my mother in delivering me a stern lecture. Perhaps there was a cricket match on.

I hesitated before deciding to test the waters with the truth.

"She wouldn't have accepted it," I said slowly. "Emma would have thought a ring of yours would be too precious for her to wear. She'd have been too terrified of losing it to ever wear it."

My mother arched a neatly manicured eyebrow. "And my blessing?"

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Believe it or not, Mum, but you can come off as quite intimidating."

She tilted her chin upward in challenge. "So she's easily scared off then, is she?"

I shook my head vehemently. "That's not what I meant—none of this has anything to do with Emma."

"Oh I believe it has quite a bit to do with Ms. Henderson," she countered. "Seeing as engagements require two parties."

"But she didn't know—I didn't tell her the family expectations."

My mother leaned forward, both of her hands spread flesh across the gleam of the table, as she countered in a low hiss: "Informing your mother of your intention to marry is not a royal protocol—it's bloody decency!"

"I know!" I groaned as I, too, leaned forward and gingerly covered her hands with mine. "I know I went about this all wrong, and I apologize for mucking it all up. I just didn't see any other way."

Her eyes bulged outward. "She's pregnant."

"No!" I exclaimed as I leaned back into my chair and ran a hand through my hair. "No, she's not... pregnant."

She shook her head in bewilderment. "Then what on Earth could have inspired you to rush into something so bloody quickly? I beg you, Tommy, tell me this wasn't some PR stunt for the foundation."

"Of course not!" I practically shouted, shocked she could even consider I would do something like that. I felt a stiff kick in my shin and closed my eyes to regain my composure. "Alright, the announcement was but the actual... agreement itself wasn't, I promise! We'd already discussed it and decided."

Mum narrowed her eyes, deliberating. "Cynthia really didn't put you up to this?"

"No," I said sternly, "And before you ask Charlie had nothing to do with it either."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Then why would you—"

"Because I was afraid of losing her."

The words hung heavily in the air between us.

Eventually, it was my turn to sigh. "Mum—"

She cut me off with a clearing of her throat. "She gave you an ultimatum?"

"No, not at all! Quite the opposite actually." I took in my mother's increasingly impatient glare and wished there was something stronger than tea in my cup. Still, I took a slow drink to gather my thoughts. "We just kept—there were so many obstacles that kept coming between us. It seemed like the only thing to do to be able to get past them."

Mum leaned back in her chair, her eyes wide in horror. "So you figured marriage would fix the issues in your relationship?"

"There weren't any issues in our relationship—there aren't—the issues were swirling around us!" I exclaimed defensively.

She said nothing but continued to stare in my direction, her eyes flickering over me as if searching in vain for the rational son she had raised.

I shook my head and attempted another means of explanation.

"She couldn't find work and her money ran out—"

Something between a chirp and a gasp emanated from my mother's throat.

"Before you go off," I warned in anticipation, "Emma wouldn't accept any of my money."

"But she'd accept your name, that ring and however much it cost you?" She challenged.

"It was only meant to be like an insurance—"

Her eyes narrowed suddenly as she straightened her back, lifting her chin to a cool angle. "I have no doubt."

"She gave up everything, Mum. You saw the papers. You know what it was like for her. In dating me she has to give up everything else—her livelihood, her privacy, her friends even!"

Admittedly, Trisha was the one friend Emma had ever mentioned feeling particularly close to. That said she had still managed to be rather social keeping up with acquaintances and colleagues. But since stepping into the public eye, she hardly went out at all unless an event for the foundation.

This only seemed to deepen the icy intensity of my mother's glare. "You make it sound like loving you is some horrible burden for her to bare! Well if that is the case, then she's clearly not up to the task."

"She is up to the task," I bit back through gritted teeth. "She just needs to figure it out and to adjust in her own time—and on her own terms."

My mother bristled at having her own words thrown back at her and fixed her gaze on the space just above my right shoulder. "So she is to be your wife then?"

I nodded.

"When?"

"I'm not quite sure... but I'll tell you immediately when it happens. I promise, Mum." I added in a low whisper.

My mother blinked several times before dropping her gaze to the table as she reached for her teacup.

"I want you to meet her."

She nodded stiffly as she replaced the cup on its saucer. "I'll meet her when it is official, dear."

"Mum, I want you to meet her... You'll like her, once you get to know her. I know you will."

Something shifted in her eyes as she considered my request. Finally, she sighed heavily and nodded once more. "Very well. We will set up an appropriate time and setting."

My fingers reached for the miniature fork and began to twirl it mindlessly between them. "I want to bring her to dinner... with the family."

A sudden and short-lived laugh burst from my mother. "Oh Thomas, you cannot possibly be serious."

"I am!" I exclaimed, my fingers momentarily dropping the fork before quickly picking it back up again.

"You know the rules," she clucked.

"Yes, but—"

She shook her head resolutely. "You may be engaged, but you cannot bring your fiancé to—"

"We're not engaged."

Her head twitched slightly to the side. "I beg your pardon?"

I forced myself to look up into my mother's unblinking eyes and attempted not to visibly flinch a little in anticipation. "We... entered into a civil partnership."

In credit to her etiquette training as a young girl, not a single muscle in my mother's face moved though her color rose steadily.

There was a long silence between us as I waited while she continued to stare at me, her mind likely racing faster than her mouth could keep up.

"I beg your pardon?" she finally managed in a choked whisper.

"I didn't see any other options I—"

She held up her hand to silence me. The discussion had ended. When she spoke again, her voice was resolved.

"Who else knows?"

"No one," I breathed. "Including Emma."

I could tell my mother was attempting a smile, though the tight twisting of her lips gave the effect of a manic frown. She lifted her hand again, this time in signal to a nearby server.

"I'll be needing an Old Fashion," she managed in a soft voice. "A strong Old Fashion, if you please."

The server bowed his head before dashing off toward the bar. I didn't need Cynthia or Matilda to tell me to wait until the server returned, so I sat there patiently until he did.

"She thinks it was a sort of contract o-or prenup," I attempted to explain as I watched my mother swallow a sizeable swig of her drink. "But..."

"And are you planning on telling her?" She asked somewhat mockingly.

"Yes," I flared before deflating a little. "When it's the right time."

"Which I assumed will be for you to decide," she retorted before taking another sip and placing her glass back down onto the table.

I didn't answer, but I doubted she expected me to.

"I have never known you to be a liar, Thomas... Not until you started seeing this woman." She wasn't looking at me, but I could still see her eyes shown with worry and what I could only imagine to be a sorrowful disappointment.

I managed to swallow the growing lump in m throat. "I'm not perfect, Mum. But I'm doing to best I can."

Her gaze suddenly flicked to mine, locking it there as she examined the sincerity in my answer to her next question. "And you truly believe being with Emma is for the best?"

I nodded eagerly. "I do."

"And you believe she'll forgive you for deceiving her... again?"

My gaze fell to my now cold cup of tea. "I-I hope so."