“It’s not horrible. I know your stance on the matter now and?—”
“No, actually. You’re right. It’s not a horrible idea. It is a catastrophic one. Jesse is Eugenie’s ex, for one. Did you know that?”
He lifted one shoulder just a fraction, which was his version of a shrug. “It hasn’t cropped up in the negotiations thus far.”
I let out another bark of dry laughter. “Oh, great. It hasn’t cropped up, huh? Well, does she know yet? Has anyone told her? Because Eugenie has proven to be amajorproblem in the past for the family name, and the drama surrounding this could further tarnish it.”
My father’s lips flattened into a hard line. “Eugenie is in Dubai. She’s in a new relationship and it’s been years since her entanglement with the Westwood boy. Their history is not a concern.”
That, more than anything else, made something twist painfully in my chest. Eugenie might have run off to Dubai with Mother and her latest terrible decision, but she was still part of this family. She still carried our name—a name I was apparently the only one trying to protect.
“You can’t seriously think this will go smoothly,” I finally said. “Eugenie will not just smile politely while her ex-boyfriend marries her sister. It is absolutely going to be a scandal and she will make sure of it.”
Winnie perked up again. “Oh my God, that would be amazing content. Drama bomb!”
I nearly fell over out of the shockwave that slammed into me this time, laughter no longer even an appropriate response. “You’re insane, Win.”
“And you’re rude. So there.”
“No, actually,thisis insane,” I clarified, my voice reduced to a near whisper as I gestured between the two of them. “This entire situation is categorically insane.”
My father’s expression hardened, his patience at an end apparently. “That’s quite enough. This is happening whether you approve of it or not. Now, I’ve indulged you. Winifred has heard you out. Perhaps it’s time for us all to take a moment.”
“Of course.” I pressed my lips together, feeling a familiar, bitter realization settle in my chest that I was the only one who truly cared.
About our family name, our reputation,andthe estate.
I was the one who kept it running. I balanced the accounts, made sure the staff was paid and that the roofs didn’t cave in. I kept the tourists coming and the film crews booking. I was the one who sweated and bled for that house—and Winnie, who barely remembered which wing was which, might be the one to give my father the heir.
The one thing he’d always wanted and that would, ultimately, save the family name.
A hot, ugly wave of bitter resentment rose in my chest, catching me off guard with its intensity. I didn’t like feeling or thinking this way, but it was there all the same.
“Perhaps you’re right,” I said tightly. “I could use a moment to get some air.”
Neither of them stopped me when I grabbed my laptop and walked out of the suite without looking back. The hallway was blissfully quiet and the elevator ride was even better. By the time I reached the bar downstairs, my hands had finally stopped shaking and my father’s voice was no longer so loud in my head.
I slid into a booth near the back, setting my laptop on the table and opening it to find booking schedules and projected maintenance costs staring back at me. Usually, this was comforting. It meant I had control over something that wasimportant to me, a purpose to every day, but right now, even just looking at it felt heavy.
Immediately minimizing the tab, I clicked into my internet browser and typed out a simple search, opening the first website that seemed appropriate. Even as I stared at the sign-up page though, I knew I probably wouldn’t actually do it.
My thoughts were running in useless circles with me, all of them centering around marriage, Winnie, Jesse Westwood, Eugenie, the estate, and the heir. That was what it always came back to, the heir.
Having three daughters had been the single greatest failure of my father’s life. He was the sixth Earl of Roderick. Every male member of his family before him had passed the title down to the next in line, but he didn’t have anyone to pass it to.
Not unless one of us produced a son. Glancing back at the website, I rubbed my temples and sighed. Maybe he was right about this. Maybe itwouldsave the estate if Winnie produced a boy. Maybe this didn’t also have to fall on me.
Because of the Westwoods, the repairs would also finally get done, and the accounts might no longer balance on only a knife’s edge.
Movement caught my eye and it snapped me right out of my flight of fancy when I looked up and sawhim.
Jesse Westwood sat at the bar, slightly hunched with a glass in front of him, not looking at all like that boisterous boy I remembered from that summer at the estate. Before I managed to avert my gaze, he turned slightly, like he’d felt me looking at him, and our eyes met. Locked. Held.
As if this day hasn’t been dreadful enough already.
I straightened slightly, ready to tear into him too, if I couldjust…get…thecourage…to yell… in public.
He stared back at me for another moment, his expression shifting into something I couldn’t quite read before he picked up his drink, stood, and walked over.
