“I’ll do it.” Lincoln handed Sasha the machete, which she gave to Robert, who tossed it on top of a plastic tote. No one felt threatened by this guy anymore. Except her. How did he know her name?
And then, in a flash of horror, it occurred to her why someone might come all the way to the deep jungle to look for her.
Oh no. Not that. Please not that. Not yet.
14
Nine years ago
Family meetings in the Wheeler summer home—a sprawling estate on the tip of Martha’s Vineyard—always included a lawyer. They were really business meetings, after all. If the situation was serious enough, there would be two lawyers present, or rather, one lawyer and one barrister who had flown over from England for the occasion.
Today, there were three lawyers. Or maybe two and a half; Mathilda had asked a friend who was in law school to join the meeting. Now she wondered if that was a mistake. Ruby couldn’t stop staring at the Van Gogh that hung over the dining room table. So far, she hadn’t contributed anything to the conversation.
“Darling, you know we’re only thinking of you and your future,” said her mother, Charlotte Rose Spencer-Sutton Wheeler. After all these years, she still had traces of her British accent, which Mathilda and her brother Jamie loved to tease her about.
“No, you’re thinking of the future you want me to have. You act like I don’t have a say in it. That’s…inhumane. Ruby, tell them.” She nudged her friend, who jerked to attention.
“I suppose that could be considered inhumane under the U.N. Human Rights Charter.”
Everyone ignored Ruby, poor thing. Mathilda wished she hadn’t brought her into this mess.
“I’m afraid no one is going to be terribly sympathetic to your argument, honey. We’re talking about lots of money. We’re talking about a title.” Her father, Mark Wheeler, who was the kindest man in the world, leaned over to pat her hand. Not only was he sweet and loving, but he was drop-dead handsome. Those magnetic blue eyes of his could win anyone over.
She had those eyes too; so why wasn’t she getting anywhere with her arguments?
“No one is saying you don’t have a choice, Mathilda,” he continued. “That’s why we’re here. This is a negotiation. We’re all here to come together on an agreement that makes everyone happy. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t give you this opportunity. The world would be your oyster. And you, my dearest girl, are my pearl. My proudest, most precious pearl.” Only someone with complete and utterly guileless sincerity could get away with such flowery language. Her father was just such a person.
“You know I hate oysters,” Mathilda muttered. “Ever heard of red tide?”
As always, her father sailed right past that sour note. “I want the very best for you. I want to keep your options open. You’re only twenty-one, still so young. The way you feel now isn’t necessarily the way you’ll feel later on.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
“Unfortunately, we’re facing a deadline, through no fault of yours. You could say it’s my fault,” Charlotte said. Her husband touched her hand in comfort.“If I had claimed the bequest, the deadline would have been reset. But a chance meeting upended all my plans. Now it’s down to nine years. Of course, you can’t complain about that because it’s the reason you’re here.”
“Um…thank you?”
Her mother inclined her head like the marchioness she could have been, if she hadn’t married Mark Wheeler.
“Now it’s your turn to make a choice. That’s why we’re all here today. For you, for your future.”
She exchanged a tender smile with her husband. The two of them—the English aristocrat and the American dreamboat she’d married—got lost in one of those shared glances that shut everyone else out while they basked in their eternal love for each other. Mathilda sighed, since she’d grown up with it. But Ruby’s gaze darted around the room, as if she didn’t know where to look. Then she went back to staring at the Van Gogh.
“Mom. Dad.” Mathilda rapped on the antique barn wood table. “Can we focus here, please?” Her parents broke off their silent communication. “I’ve been accepted to a research program in Hawaii. I intend to go. I don’t know how I’m going to feel later on, that’s true, but I know how I feel now, and how I feel is that I have a different purpose in life than marrying a man I’ve never met and becoming a duchess.”
“Marchioness, not duchess, sorry to say,” the British barrister said. “We can arrange an introduction. The young man is eager to meet you.”
“‘Young man’ is a very kind way to describe a fourteen-year-old.” Mathilda flopped back in her seat in that impulsive way that drove her mother crazy. “And don’t bother to say that he’ll be twenty-three when our time runs out. I can do the math. I’m sure he’s a lovely person, I mean, maybe he is, I don’t know. Those English lord types tend to be spoiled brats, don’t they? Anyway, I really don’t see how our future selves could possibly be compatible. I’m sorry.”
Both the lawyers started talking, the British one listing all the attributes of the “young man,” and the American one listing the assets that would come with him.
“How about this.” Her father swept his magical blue gaze around the table, and everyone fell silent. “Mathilda, you go to Hawaii and pursue your studies. Follow your heart. Live your life. Don’t give another thought to this question until the time comes. Shortly before the bequest expires—say, two or three months, to give you plenty of warning—someone will get in touch with you. One of these guys, probably.” He jerked his thumb at the lawyers. “At that point, young Duncan Aberdeen will be of an age where you can actually get to know him. He’ll be a grown person, not just a schoolboy. He’ll know his own mind more by then. We’ll ask him to write you a letter, or make a video, or however he wants to do it, laying out his thoughts on the subject of your union.”
“Our union.” Mathilda gave a bitter laugh. “Shouldn’t you just go ahead and say ‘merger’?”
“It might be. But by then, you might have a use for an enormous estate, huge pots of money, and an aristocratic title. Who knows? Life can take strange twists.”
Her mother leaned forward, the movement as graceful as the glide of a swan. “Just look at me and your father, darling. I never contemplated rejecting the Aberdeen bequest until I fell in love. But once I met Mark, there was no question in my mind what I had to do. Love conquers all, as it turns out. Before I did so, however, I made sure that our children would also be eligible to claim the bequest, despite my marriage to an American. Fortunately, I had an excellent barrister.” Her gaze slid to Ruby, who had moved on to staring at the Rembrandt.
