Winnie was in London again. She hadn’t even come back to the estate after we’d landed, still furious and insisting that she’dmissed quite enough of her own appointmentswhile 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.
Myengagement.
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 beJesse 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 ridiculouswhen—and notif—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 deep 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 stepped 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 deep 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 step 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 fireplace 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 theexpression 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 stepped 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 hispockets. A few strands of his thick, dark hair had slid forward across his forehead as he watched me.
