Page 15 of The Devil's Pawn

I must admit, I do like Charles. He seems so different from Alexander. It’s hard to believe they’re related. And Charles and George are so alike they could be twins rather than brothers, in looks and personality.

“I’d love to.” If nothing else, it’s a chance to glean a few shards of information about his asshole of a son.

He sweeps me onto the dance floor, right into the middle of the crowd. People shuffle to give us room. No one mentions that the first dance a bride has should be with her husband, not even Charles, and I’m grateful for that. I’m already raw from Alexander’s behavior without others piling on.

“You make a beautiful bride,” Charles says. “As I knew you would.”

I offer a small smile. Beautiful bride sure is a lot better than Alexander’s “You look… nice” he ground out in front of the minister. Maybe I should have married Charles instead. He’d make a better husband than Alexander.

“Can I ask you something?”

He leans back slightly from where he had his cheek pressed to mine. “Of course, my dear. You can ask me anything.”

“Why did you force Alexander to marry me?”

His eyes flare, his pupils dilating in what I read as surprise. I might be wrong, but that’s what it looks like to me.

“Force Alexander?” He shakes his head. “My dear, no one forces Alexander to do anything he doesn’t want to. Not even me.” He chuckles. “My son is headstrong and complicated, and yes, moody and unpredictable, too. I didn’tforcehim to walk down the aisle.”

My confusion must show because he continues. “Alexander, like all my children, knows that their duty is to secure the future of our family line. The De Vils have been around for more than a millennia, and we have a responsibility to our ancestors to continue to flourish far into the future.”

Ah, so no oneforcedhim, per se, but he’s so steeped in duty, he knew refusal wasn’t an option.

Just as it wasn’t for me.

“Besides, Alexander doesn’t truly know what he wants, not when it comes to love.”

I swallow a laugh.Love?I’m pretty sure Alexander De Vil doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

“But do arranged marriages work?” I murmur, more to myself than asking an actual question.

“My dear, families like ours have always entered into arranged marriages, and they work beautifully.” I mustn’thide my thoughts on the matter, because he chuckles. “You don’t agree?”

“I don’tdisagree, but it would have been nice to have had the choice to meet someone, fall in love, and marry them rather than a man I only met four days before I walked down the aisle.”

His lips purse. “Hmm. Yes, I wasn’t in agreement with his decision not to meet you beforehand, but like I said, it’s difficult to force Alexander to do anything he doesn’t want to. He’s strong-willed, that boy.”

Hearing Charles describe Alexander as a boy brings a smile to my lips. There’s nothingboyishabout him. He’sall man.

The low-lying muscles of my stomach clench as my mind flips back to that kiss.All man, indeed.

“Look at it this way,” Charles says, oblivious to the tingles racing through my body. “If you’d met a young man at a club or a bar, fallen in love, and married, your chances of making it past five years of marriage are somewhere around the fifty percent mark. Whereas arranged marriages, in my family at least, have a ninety-five percent success rate.”

“Yeah, but isn’t that because they got their heads chopped off if they suggested divorce?”

Charles throws back his head and laughs. “Oh, Imogen. What a fine wife you’ll be to Alexander. And yes, you may have a point. Many moons ago, that probably would have been the outcome of a wife suggesting divorce, but we live in modern times now.” He winks. “I’m sure beheading is frowned upon by His Majesty’s government.”

“Good to know.”

He smiles kindly. “My dear, trust me, trust your parents, and trust the process. Alexander isn’t the easiest of nuts tocrack, but I know you’ll find a way to handle him.” He winks. “Do try to avoid lopping off his head, though.”

I break out what feels like the first genuine smile since I arrived on Wednesday.

“Could I ask one more question?”

“You can ask me as many as you wish. There isn’t a quota.”

“Why me? Why did you choose me as Alexander’s bride? I wasn’t even born when my father signed my life away. How did you know I’d make a good wife for your son?”

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