Eliza Sunday evening settled over the castle as I paced the length of my bedroom for what had to be the hundredth time, the hem of my dress brushing softly against my legs with every turn. Back and forth. Back and forth. My suite had never felt this small before. Normally, it was my sanctuary, the high ceilings, de ep windows overlooking the lawns, and the faint scent of old wood and lavender polish lingering in the air comforting, but tonight, it felt like a cage. Winnie was in London again. She hadn’t even come back to the estate after we’d landed, still furious and insisting that she’d missed quite enough of her own appointments while we’d been gone. I had a feeling it was going to be a long, long time before she forgave me for this, regardless of the fact that I’d had nothing to do with the decision. Then there was Eugenie. According to my father, who’d delivered the news to me earlier with the same maddening calm he was applying to everything about this, she was fully aware of what was going on. Apparently, however, she was remaining in Dubai, far too busy with her social life to return home to celebrate her sister’s engagement. My engagement. It still felt surreal, like something I was daydreaming about rather than reality. I’d always dreamed of a knight in shining armor riding in to rescue me after years of being the one doing the rescuing, but I never thought that knight would be Jesse Westwood. Moreover, I wasn’t entirely sure I believed Eugenie knew. If she did, she would have at least sent a dramatic voice note or a barrage of messages demanding details, but I hadn’t heard a single word from her. When I reached the wall, I turned again, glancing at my reflection in the tall mirror beside the wardrobe. Even dressed nicely, I was no Winnie. I still had no idea why he would have chosen me over her. My dress was simple and elegant, not particularly formal but clinging to my full curves even if I didn’t move. The fabric was pale blue, the neckline tasteful, and the hem all the way down to my ankles. Winnie would’ve worn something more revealing. Sexier. I’d considered it, but ultimately, I didn’t want to look ridiculous when—and not if—the evening turned awkward. And it absolutely would.
How could it not, considering he’s come across an ocean for the signing of a contract of marriage to a girl he barely knows? My gaze flicked up in the mirror. I’d spent an inordinate amount of time on my hair, pinning and brushing it until it fell just right over my shoulders, but I still just looked like me. Plain, quiet Eliza. As I turned away from my reflection, I drew in a de ep breath. As if that might steady the nerves rattling around in my chest, but it didn’t. My palms were damp, my heart refusing to slow down. A sudden knock on the door— probably the knock I’d been waiting for—even made me jump. “Yes?” I called, swallowing hard but unable to dislodge the sudden lump of terror in my throat. “Enter.” The door opened just enough for one of the maids to peek inside. “Miss Eliza, Mr. Westwood has arrived.” My stomach dropped. Already? Bloody hell, he really doesn’t waste time. Why couldn’t he just stop for a coffee or something? “Thank you,” I managed after swallowing again. The door closed, leaving me alone with my hammering heart and sweaty palms. I smoothed my hands over the front of my dress and tried to square my shoulders. That didn’t work either. I spun around again, taking one last look at myself in the mirror before I headed to the door and st epped out into the corridor. Ultimately, I supposed it didn’t even really matter what I looked like tonight. For some reason I would likely never understand, Jesse had chosen me to be his bride. I drew in another de ep breath as I made my way downstairs. While it was unlikely he’d chosen me for my looks or grace, it would be simply splendid if I could at least make it to the entrance hall without falling flat on my face. Centuries’ old paintings watched silently from the walls as I walked. The soft glow of the chandeliers reflected off polished wood and stone worn smooth in places over the years. Every st ep felt heavier than the last, but I finally made it to the entrance hall without incident and proceeded to the drawing room. By the time I reached the door, I could feel sweat prickling along the back of my neck, but I pushed it open anyway, knowing there was no sense in trying to stall. As the door opened, I saw my dad and Jesse already in there, standing near the fir eplace and talking in low tones.
Both of them looked as I entered, but the moment Jesse’s gaze landed on me, everything else in the room seemed to blur around the edges. He was dressed simply but impeccably in dark trousers and a crisp white shirt, his posture relaxed, but the expression in those blue eyes sharpened into narrow focus when they found mine. The strong column of his throat bobbed as he swallowed, but that couldn’t possibly be because of me. That would be insane. He was probably just as uneasy as I felt right now, a far more logical explanation under the circumstances. “Eliza,” my father said, breaking the strangely charged silence in the room. “Come join us.” Jesse st epped forward slightly. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a lawyer.” He gestured toward the man standing closer to the drinks cart in the corner of the room. I hadn’t even noticed him before, but he nodded politely when I glanced in his direction. “Good evening, Lady Elizabeth. I’m Michael Hartwell.” “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I said, operating on a lifetime of having manners drilled into me rather than actual sentiment. My heart tripped slightly over itself, however, and a fresh cold sweat broke out across my brow and spine. Why did he bring a lawyer? Before the conversation could linger in that awkward space, my father clapped his hands lightly, not offering an explanation for the lawyer’s presence but not seeming concerned about it either. “Well then, let’s move to the dining room, shall we?” He motioned for us to follow him, but I hung back for just a moment, allowing the men to precede me. If my father wasn’t concerned, I shouldn’t be either. Logically, I understood that, but my head was still spinning. Fear, uncertainty, and nerves fluttered about in my stomach. Somehow, I needed to clear my head before I followed, but I had no idea how I was going to manage that. It wasn’t until Dad and the lawyer were gone that I noticed Jesse hovering in the doorway, his fingers slid casually into his pockets. A few strands of his thick, dark hair had slid forward across his forehead as he watched me. Waited. For me. When my gaze hit his once more, it was almost like I could feel him loaning me some of his calm. I inhaled a de ep breath, only just managing to find my center. Then I managed to convince my feet to move. Neither of us said anything, just exchanging tight but not unfriendly smiles as I passed him. He let me walk half a st ep ahead, but his silent companionship down the hall was
strangely grounding all the same. When we walked into the formal dining room though, my eyebrows twitched and my focus stopped being entirely aimed at the meeting ahead. The room had been pr epared as if we were hosting visiting royalty, a veritable feast laid out in Jesse’s honor. There were silver platters, polished glassware, and candles flickering along the length of the enormous table. Everything was traditional, from the arrangement of the place settings to the precise placement of the wine glasses. I’d grown up with dinners like this, but we could hardly ever afford them anymore. It felt oddly theatrical to be sitting down to one tonight, knowing Dad had splurged because of a Westwood and what they would mean for our family. It really drove home the weight that was resting on my shoulders right now. Dad and the lawyer were waiting for us behind their seats, both only resuming motion once we were in the room. “Eliza,” Dad said, waving me into the chair on his left while Jesse was gestured to the one on the right. As such, we ended up across from each other, the long stretch of table between us filled with dishes I barely registered. Servants moved quietly in and out of the room, pouring wine and setting down courses with practiced precision. For a while, the conversation flowed seamlessly around me. Jesse’s lawyer launched into the nitty-gritty details of the contract and my father interrupted only when he had a very serious question. At least, I thought it was serious, but honestly, my ears were ringing a bit now that I was trying to process that all this was real and I was having trouble following the conversation. All these supremely important things that apparently needed to be discussed before two people could even think about getting married, yet Jesse and I seemed entirely unnecessary to this discussion. Like mere witnesses instead of the two people who would be entering into said nuptials. Across the table, Jesse was as quiet as I was, but every now and then, our eyes met, and every single time it happened, that strange nervous energy twisted through my chest all over again. I had just convinced myself I could survive the rest of the dinner in polite silence when his foot suddenly slid against mine under the table. The contact shocked me so completely that my muscles froze with my fork halfway to my mouth. For a moment, I even forgot how to complete the movement of bringing food to
my mouth. How to move at all, really. My first thought was that it had to have been an accident, but the pressure lingered just enough that my heart jumped. I slowly managed to lift my eyes from my plate, finding him already looking at me. His expression didn’t change much, but he tilted his head slightly toward the lawyer, who was still de ep in conversation with my father about timelines, clauses, and various other things that sounded far too official for my liking. The small gesture felt deliberate. Like encouragement, perhaps. Possibly even encouragement to speak up about why I had made Jesse fly all this way. My throat suddenly felt so dry that I cleared it on instinct, but that brief moment of connection had snapped me out of my shocked trance. “Excuse me,” I said, quietly interrupting them. Three sets of eyes immediately turned toward me, my father’s eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise. Jesse, however, leaned back in his chair with a slight hint of a smile on the corners of his lips. “I’m listening,” he said, entirely calm. I folded my hands in my lap so no one would notice that they’d started trembling. “I wonder if I might clarify a few things I’ve been uncertain about.” The lawyer nodded politely, obviously ready to take mental notes, but I did my best to ignore him. I didn’t mean to cause trouble or be difficult. The man could relax. Seeing as my father was the Earl, the practical side of this arrangement had simply been weighing on my mind since the moment the contract had been mentioned, and before I signed anything, there were certain stipulations I wanted to make. “If this goes forward, I would have to relocate to Chicago,” I started slowly, speaking mostly to Jesse now. He gave me a small nod, still calm and with that hint of a smile on his lips. Some of my nerves eased at the open expression on his handsome features. Clearly, unlike his lawyer, he wasn’t bracing for a fight to the death over unexpected, possibly unreasonable demands, so I k ept my focus on him. “I’m willing to agree to that, but I would like permission to return to the castle every summer,” I said. “I would also want to bring whatever children we may have in the future with me when I do visit.” The moment the sentence had left my mouth, my father cut in. “Of course, the children would need to spend time here.” He leaned forward, launching into explanation mode. Man-splaining, Winnie called it when he got all animated like this over things we already knew.
“My heir would need to be here quite often. It’s important he understands the family history, the traditions, and the responsibilities that come with the title. This estate has existed for centuries. It’s not something one simply learns from a book—” Jesse’s foot tapped against mine. When I looked up, I found him once again already looking at me. He cocked his head, inclining it slightly toward my father like this was meant to be a quiet reminder. Although I didn’t know him very well, it was almost like I could hear his voice in my head. This is your show. Run it. I straightened slightly in my chair. “My reasoning goes beyond ensuring that my future, theoretical son is a well-trained Earl by the time he’s five.” The words were out before I could stop them, heat racing to my face in the aftermath, but Jesse was still watching me with that same expectant calm on his features. Right, then. “It has more to do with the fact that I consider the castle my home,” I said after taking a moment to gather myself. “I’m not interested in giving that up.” For a split second, I couldn’t believe I’d said that out loud. Even my father looked startled while the lawyer simply blinked at me, but Jesse was smiling. It wasn’t a mocking or amused smile either, but rather, it seemed warm and genuine. “That’s completely fine by me,” he said easily and the tension in my shoulders loosened just a fraction. “I would expect nothing less. Anything else?” Encouraged despite my surprise, I added a few more small, practical points, highlighting visiting schedules that would make sure any children we had spent time understanding both families and their responsibilities to them. By the time I finished, I felt oddly breathless, but triumphant too. I’d done it. I’d actually told them what I wanted. “That’s all,” I said finally. The lawyer glanced at Jesse, waiting for the nod, then offered me a polite smile before he gathered his papers. “Very well. I’ll add those points to the contract. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll begin updating the draft immediately. I should have a complete, final version by tomorrow night.” Moments later, he rose and left the dining room, the silence that suddenly followed deafeningly loud. My father cleared his throat and pushed back his chair, his eyes on Jesse as he rose. “Well, shall we adjourn to the study for a drink?” Jesse nodded, standing without hesitation. Internally, I sighed and resigned myself to being left behind. The invitation had clearly been meant for Jesse alone. I knew immediately that I hadn’t been included, even if my future husband had come to England at my insistence.
“Of course,” he said smoothly, but as he walked past me, following my father to the door, he leaned down ever so slightly. “Good job.” The words were so soft that I barely heard him, but he’d definitely said them. Before I could even twist in my chair to smile or acknowledge my appreciation for his encouragement at all, he’d straightened back up and was continuing his conversation with my father. “Your estate really is impressive,” he was saying as they left the room. “The gardens are beautiful.” “And costly,” Dad said tightly. “An operation such as ours requires constant upke ep. The cost of maintenance alone is staggering.” I nearly groaned out loud, but mercifully, their voices faded down the hall. I slumped back in my chair, remaining seated for another long minute once they were gone. Good job. What does that even mean? Shaking my head, I rose briskly and hurried toward the hallway. If I stayed any longer, my brain was going to spiral into analyzing every tiny detail of that interaction and that would not help my nerves right now at all. I’d just reached the doorway when a strange instinct made me glance over my shoulder. My heart skipped when I realized Jesse had paused halfway down the corridor, looking back at the exact same moment I did. When our eyes met, he smiled at me and the sight of it sent a flutter through my chest that I absolutely did not understand. Just as fast as the moment had begun, however, it ended when my father called to him from inside the study. Quickly turning once more, I headed for the stairs, trying very hard not to think about why my heart was suddenly beating so fast—and desperately trying to calm it down.