The words pelted Olive like icy snowballs.
“Youwhat?” Her cold fingers shook in the wind. “I don’t need or want a husband.”
“I shall give him one hundred percent of my shares in the farm,” Papa continued relentlessly, “upon your marriage.”
“Ourfarm?” There was no reason to feign apoplexy. Olive was certain her heart was exploding right out of her chest. Her gestures were sharper. “Why would you do this?”
“You need a husband, daughter.”
That was the last thing she needed.
Olive wanted to be respected on her own. Considered as capable as any man. She’d thought shewas, at least to her father.
“No.” She shook her head, negating with her fingers. “You’re bamming me.”
“You spend almost all of your time with me or on the farm. You do nothing for yourself, and little with your friends. You deserve an opportunity to relax.”
She gaped at him in disbelief. “You think marriage meanslesswork for a woman?”
Long ago, Olive had decided to do whatever it took to be independent. Yes, she spent every possible moment raising the horses, training the horses, checking that the stable hands were properly attending to the horses... And she wouldn’t trade a single moment of it.
Shelovedher life.
Papa pushed open the front door to their home and gestured her through. “I’m getting old, Olive. I used to be helpful, and now I am not.”
“Our farm makes more than enough money to employ as many hired hands as we need.” She shoved her pelisse onto its hook. “Besides, I can—”
“You can do anything the stable hands can. I know that. But now you won’t have to.”
The back of Olive’s throat pricked with heat. She’d dedicated her entire life to proving herself as deserving an heiress for the farm as any male heir, and she still wasn’t good enough.
Even when she was the only one, her father would still rather find someone else.
Her hands trembled. “I cannot believe you would betroth me to some random—”
“Not random.” Papa’s eyes held hers. “You’ll marry Elijah Weston.”
The breath rushed out of her lungs with such force that Olive staggered backward until she regained her equilibrium.No.
Her lips parted, but she could not force herself to repeat that name. The mere thought of him turned her back into a sobbing, humiliated fourteen-year-old.
“It’s a means to an end.” Her father shifted his weight as if he knew just how much he was hurting her. “I’m old. It’s time to heal the rift between our families. Three decades of rivalry is long enough. We are stronger united.”
Papa didn’t think Olive had deficiencies after all.
He simply had ulterior motives.
“That’s not better.” Her muscles rebelled at the injustice. “Using me as an inducement is worse, no matter your reasons. The answer is no. I won’t marry any man, and especially notthatman.”
“I shan’t debate you on the matter. You’re of age, so legally I cannot force you. But marriage to Mr. Weston is the only way you’ll have my shares in the farm.”
“How can I have them at all?” Her spine collapsed against the wall. “You’re giving control tohim, not me.” She could not bring herself to form his name. “I’d rather stay enemies forever than see that happen.”
Olive’s father and Elijah Weston’s father had grown up together. Inseparable, bosom friends, practically twins—despite their differences in class.
Mr. Weston’s father was Lord Milbotham. He’d been born with a silver spoon and immediately given a courtesy title. As a wealthy marquess, he needn’t ever lift a finger if he didn’t wish to.
On a lark, Papa and Milbotham began a stud farm together, just outside London. As the partnership grew, so did their business. Their horses were celebrated at Tattersall’s, the farm famous throughout England.
