My fingers smooth over the pristine white tablecloth, my thoughts returning to River – again - before a pointed cough pulls my eyes upward.
Philip’s mother offers me another tight-lipped smile. When he leans forward to top up her wine glass, and then my father’s, she takes a small sip before openly studying me with beady eyes.
I don’t miss that Philip avoids my glass completely, setting the bottle down before his arm returns to loop around the back of my chair. Rigid, I glance at my father opposite me.
He at least has the self-awareness not to meet my eyes.
I turn, finding Philip closer than I expected. His smile grows into something that flips my stomach in a completely different way to River. It’s… twisted.
“I’d like some more wine.”
His brows draw together at my quiet words, and he leans forward. His finger traces up my bare arm. “I think you’ve had enough for this evening.”
Half a glass, if that. Not nearly enough to offer me any kind of escape from his vitriolic mother. Doreen Fitzherbert leans forward, sniffing in clear disapproval. “It’s not becoming for a wife to drink to excess.”
It’s also not becoming for them to speak unless spoken to. Or to eat more than three bites. Or to breathe, apparently.
I offer her a smile before reaching for the bottle. “Well, I’m not a wife.”
Philip’s fingers tighten a little on my arm, his voice lowering. Across from me, Doreen wobbles in self-righteous anger. If she had pearls, I have no doubt she’d be clutching them. “Darling, really.”
“Hmm?” Pouring myself a generous glass, I offer him the dregs of the bottle. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want some? I thought you might have had enough. This is the third bottle we’ve opened, isn’t it?”
At my pointed words, color flushes his cheeks, the deep red covering his skin in seconds. He takes a breath, running a hand through his hair before giving me a strained smile. “No, thank you.”
“Excellent.” Placing the empty bottle back on the table with a slight thud, I sip at my wine silently. Philip leans forward to listen to my father’s words on a law case they’ve been working on, and I scan him.
He and River are night and day, despite them having similar colorings. Philip’s limp, meticulously brushed, almost white hair doesn’t come close to the burnished gold of River’s chaotic bun, and his hazel eyes feel like a weak comparison compared to the dark brown of River’s gaze. Especially when they focus on me.
I feel nothing but cold. Waiting, I take another sip of wine, watching the way his lip curls. “Your father and I have been discussing the arrangements for our marriage.”
“Ah.” Another slow sip before I respond. “You mean the marriage I haven’t agreed to? That marriage? Or did I miss one?”
Silence falls across the table.
“Briar,” my father snaps eventually. His face has darkened to a hue reminiscent of the wine in my glass. “You will not be so rude.”
He turns to Doreen and Philip, dismissing me. “I apologize. She’s been working too hard – and with her limitations, it’s been too much, I fear.”
Ah. My non-existent fragilities again. “I haven’t had an iron deficiency since I was fourteen, Papa.”
A fixable illness has defined my entire adult life, at least in my father’s eyes.
They continue as if I haven’t spoken, Doreen nodding. “That won’t be a problem once she settles in. She won’t be working then, not with a house to run.”
Stiffening, I straighten in my seat. “I think I’ll decide that.”
Doreen’s smile at my tight words is as sickly sweet as it is mildly threatening. My stomach begins to churn. “Yourhusbandwill decide if it’s appropriate.”
“I believe your father is right, sweetheart,” Philip murmurs. He brushes back my hair, and I jerk away from him, my face flaming. “It’s really not good for you. I’ll keep you busy enough.”
The insinuation is clear, and I fight the urge to vomit before pushing my chair back, any patience I had vanishing entirely. “Excuse me. I’m not feeling well.”
“That’ll be the alcohol.” Doreen nods sagely, glancing to Philip. “You’ll need to keep an eye on that.”
“I only had one glass,” I snap. Leaning forward, I snatch the rest of my wine from the table, finishing it before Philip can takeit away. “Apologies that I can’t stay. I’m feeling a littlefragile. I think I’ll retire early. Good night, everyone.”
They’re already talking before I leave the room, my father offering hurried apologies that I know won’t be the last of it.
