Page 56 of Reluctantly His

“Yes, sir,” I said again, still staring at the Persian rug.

He placed a hand under my chin to raise my gaze to his. “Cheer up, Charlotte. Soon you will have a beautiful home of your own, a title, and perhaps a few babies to care for. Your husband will barely be a daily consideration. Trust me, I know what these aristocrat types are like.”

“If you say so, Father.”

“I do. You needed this. Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not. Your life was going nowhere. You needed a push out of the nest. I’m doing this for your own good.”

I swallowed as tears pricked the back of my eyes.

He wasn’t wrong. For so long, I’d blamed my father for the stagnant, stifling life I’d been leading, when in reality, I’d been happily playing along. Like a bird singing in a cage.

It was so much easier to blame him than to look inward.

Was it really fair to only blame him for this marriage when I had been basically sleepwalking through my own damn life?

Was it fair to blame Reid for waking me up?

It seemed I was blaming everyone but myself.

If I were now in this awful position, then it was just possible that I had only myself to blame.

“I understand, Father.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

I turned on my heel and left his office, passing Reid as I left.

He didn’t so much as look at me as I walked past.

It was like a knife slicing into my heart.

His anger and hatred were so much easier to deal with than his indifference.

I went back up to my room to find the dress had already been laid out.

The dress was similar to the one I had worn before, except instead of black with pink flowers, it was white and the waist on the corset was transparent. This one did have a full and opaque skirt but a slit that went almost to my hip.

I hated it.

But my engagement party wasn’t really about me. It was more of a trial run to see how I would act on this man’s arm. How I would look and if I could rise to the occasion.

As if failure were an option.

The ballroom was beautifully laid out.

I had been to several events in this ballroom. The Waldorf Astoria did have one of the most amazing ballrooms in the city. I tried to take comfort in the fact that most women would have killed to have their engagement party here.

I stood in the middle of the room, making polite chitchat with people I barely knew, accepting their congratulations and well wishes as I was waiting for my fiancé.

Reid was there, standing in the corner in a three-piece tuxedo, looking like sin.

Jealous rage boiled in my gut as I watched several women and even a few men take notice of how he looked more like James Bond than a bodyguard.

My fiancé arrived about an hour late, reeking of gin and vermouth.

“You look lovely, darling,” he slurred, not really looking at me.

“Thank you,” I said automatically. “You do look dashing in that suit.”

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