Page 12 of An Engagement with the Enemy

He’d once pretended the branches were the long necks of dragons, or the backs of sea serpents, and he was the only person alive capable of riding them as one rode a horse.

He paused, as if waiting for the tree to respond, and then continued with a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “No responsibilities, no expectations. Just the freedom to explore, to imagine, and to be entirely lost in the moment.”

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves above him, as if the tree was offering its silent understanding. James leaned back against the trunk, staring up into the lush green canopy, lost in a world of memories.

He chuckled softly, the sound mingling with the rustling leaves. “But here I am now, a grown man burdened with the weight of my family’s expectations. And yet, as I sit here, talking to you, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of that carefree spirit returning.”

James closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun and the whispered rustle of the leaves wash over him. His escape from the complexities of his adult life would be fleeting, he well knew.

James stayed perched in the branches, relishing the connection between past and present, between man and nature.

He swung his gaze eastward, to the tops of the shops and buildings in the village.

The village of Amoret, tiny as it was, had been that close to the castle since the 1400’s. Thus the family and villagers had always been rather used to one another, and absolutely nothing that happened in the castle remained private for long.

James’s failure with Lady Emily was doubtless old news by this point in the day.

His father had already called James to his study. The baron hadn’t expressed disappointment in the situation, or in his son. Instead, he’d given James the name of the next invited guest who was expected to arrive in five days.

This time, the potential bride was the sister of a marquess. Lady Isabelle Declan. And she was three-and-thirty years of age, yet never married.

“She thinks marriage an unnecessary business. It is up to you to change her mind,” Lord Retford informed his son. “Though if she has held out against the idea this long, I am not certain how you will plead your case. I have already sent an invitation for Lord Richland to join us with his family in a fortnight.”

James didn’t oppose the idea of matrimony in general, of course. Several of his friends had married and seemed happy, or at least content, with their lot in life. But they had all chosen their brides on their own terms, so far as he knew. And none of them had a father with his mind bent on only one sort of daughter-in-law: a woman with a perfect noble heritage.

“There will be no peace until I’m wed,” James muttered to the leaves.

“It is all a lot of rot,” a familiar voice said with vehemence.

James jolted with surprise, hitting the back of his head against the rough bark of the old oak tree, then looked through the branches and down the walking path. Jessica Westcote walked alongside his sister, coming toward his tree without any idea he sat within its leafy confines.

So it didn’t surprise him when Jessica continued her diatribe, apparently with him as the subject. “Why can James not find a bride during the Season? Then you needn’t have all these strangers traipse through your house and our village, nor go to all the expense of balls and house parties. Will you not have a moment’s peace?”

Though initially shocked to hear her speaking of his predicament, her near echo of his own words made him smirk. They finally agreed on something.

“It is most unlikely,” Catherine answered with a sigh. “Though I wish you would not speak as though I am a victim of some great tragedy. It is an inconvenience, of course, but one that will pass either when James has married or when my parents tire of trying to force a bride upon him.”

His body stiffened. He’d known Catherine kept none of her own secrets from her friend, but he’d never supposed she’d shared the family’s business—his business—so freely. His stomach twisted and an unpleasant flush of heat went up his neck and into his ears. What else had Catherine said about him over the years? And why did the possible answers to that question unsettle him?

“I truly do not understand this sudden mania for a daughter-in-law.” Jessica, to her credit, did not sound as though she expected a full explanation. Though the two had never kept secrets from one another. They were as sisters, though perhaps with a stronger bond because they chose one another rather than being forced together by accident of birth.

He didn’t begrudge Catherine her friendship, though he occasionally wished she had formed a connection with someone who didn’t possess a sharp tongue and the annoying habit of winning most arguments she entered.

They were almost beneath his tree when Catherine spoke, voluntarily giving up more information than James liked.

“It is all Papa’s doing, though Mama went along with the scheme the moment she realized it could mean having grandchildren to dote upon.” She stopped beside the tree, and James caught sight of his sister’s frown. “I hope they are less dictatorial when it is my turn to find a suitable husband.”

“Dictatorial? That is an excellent word. Latin?”

“Indeed.” Catherine’s expression momentarily brightened. “Had you heard it before?”

“Never,” Jessica admitted, then waved her hand dismissively. “Are their requirements for their future daughter-in-law severe?” Jessica had stopped directly below James.

In his youth, that moment would have been the perfect opportunity to drop something damp or messy atop her head, like a sack of feathers or the contents of a jar of preserves. It made his fingers itch, to be in a perfect position for some prank or other and unable to do a thing about it.

Engrossed as he was in imagining all the things he could have done to take advantage of a vulnerable moment, he didn’t hear the whole of his sister’s answer or comprehend what she was saying until the last of it.

“…if not exactly requirements. I think it stems from Papa’s insecurities. Legitimizing the barony is something he has cared about all my life. The business with that horrid Lady Joana Tisdale last Season made him cross.”