A second later, however, it clicked.Winnie. Jesse. The entire ridiculous arrangement.
My stomach dropped, but curiously, it wasn’t with relief. Instead, what I felt as I stared back up into my father’s eyes, was defeat. All because he’d been right about the estate.
In that moment, the truth of it sank like a stone in my chest. While he talked, the weight of the realization pressed deeper with every word. That old castle of ours bled money. It always had, but now it was bleeding faster than we could ever patch it.
Staff salaries, repairs, taxes, maintenance, insurance… It had all piled up until the numbers had stopped feeling real.
“We can’t hold on much longer,” Dad said, his voice breaking into my thoughts again for a moment. “Without the Westwood marriage, I’m afraid we’d have to sell soon. No money and no heir ultimately translates to no estate.”
His voice was steady and practical, the same tone he used when he talked about the weather or needing an oil change. Life on that estate was the only life I’d ever known though, and my mind wandered off again as he kept droning on about the Westwoods and how they were our only chance.
It drifted away from this cramped hotel office, away from the neat stack of papers in the folder, and away from even the quiet hum of the air-conditioner. In my head, I was back at the castle, imagining what it was going to be like packing it up.
Generations of Rodericks had lived there, their portraits still hanging in the Ancestral Hall. I couldn’t picture taking them down. Telling our staff we were leaving them. Gathering up whatever meager possessions we wouldn’t have sold and piling them into suitcases.
I knew that castle like the back of my hand, even now seeing in my mind’s eye the way the stone steps dipped in the middle from centuries of footsteps. Father kept talking, but his voice had blurred into the background, like someone speaking underwater.
As I stared at the desk, suddenly all I could think about was the bar, telling Jesse everything about Winnie, very clearly conveying that I felt this was a terrible idea. How Winnie wasconstantly filming, making it sound like she only cared about content, which, to be fair, was the truth, but…
If I hadn’t said anything, if I’d just kept quiet, maybe he wouldn’t have backed out of the deal.
“Eliza.”
Father said my name sharply enough that my head jerked up and the room rushed back into focus. I blinked away the tears pressing at my eyes and gave him a tight nod. “I’m sorry, Daddy. What did you say?”
He was watching me with a measured expression, not irritated or disappointed for once, which was curious. “You drifted off.”
“I was just thinking.” I hesitated, then forced the words out. “I feel like this is all my fault, Daddy.”
The confession hung in the air between us. His brow furrowed, his head tilting slightly, and for a second, I almost told him everything, the words hovering right on the edge of my tongue. How I’d talked about Winnie to Jesse only half an hour ago. How I’d basically handed him every reason to walk away from the arrangement.
If he’d changed his mind because of that while Winnie herself was still willing—hell, excited—to go through with it, I didn’t know what I would do. My righteous indignation would’ve ruined our best and only shot of remaining in our home, but Dad shook his head before I could say any of it.
“This isn’t your fault, darling,” he said firmly, sliding the folder across the desk. “The Westwoods haven’t changed their minds about themarriage.”
I frowned, confusion twisting through my chest. “They haven’t? I thought you said?—”
“They changed their minds about the person involved,” he said gently. “Jesse has chosenyouas his bride, Eliza. Not Winnie, but you.”
While I heard him speak the words, I didn’t understand the sentence at first. It felt like it was just floating in the air, separate from meaning, but a few seconds later, the penny dropped. Hard.
Jesse Westwood has chosen me as his bride.
My heart stopped. “What?”
Dad smiled like this was the most normal conversation in the world, like he’d expected news of this sort all along and nothing had changed. “The contract is ready. Everything has been calculated and approved.” He tapped the folder lightly with his index finger. “All you have to do is sign.”
Sign.
The word echoed in my skull, rattling around like a ghost without a home. The room tilted slightly, like the floor had shifted under my feet. I felt like I’d been sucked into a vacuum where time and sound had stopped working properly.
My ears rang. The office seemed too small, the air too thin.
Me? Marry Jesse Westwood? Me…
“They’ve given us time to let the lawyers look over it upon our return to England,” Dad said calmly. “Jesse has pointed out the most pertinent clauses, but he insists we have our own people peruse the document before he expects an answer from you.”
The words kept coming, but they still weren’t really making much sense, so I just stared at my father, unable to speak or even breathe. Suddenly, the door burst open and Winnie stormed into the office like a hurricane.
