Protect & Serve(84)

“I… yes, of course you’re right,” I stammered, doing what I could to regain my composure. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of myself in the reflective surface of the privacy screen, my mascara already beginning to run as the first hot streams of my tears made their way down my cheeks. “Carry on, and all that, I supposed.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

I had sometimes wondered what the sound of my heart breaking would be like, and it turned out to sound a lot like my stifled sobbing.





12





Chapter 12





I invited Gwendolyn out for a quiet dinner the next day in the hopes of discussing a few more potential candidates. I made sure to find a place that the two of us would have at least some privacy while we made plans to get me tied off to a somewhat respectable woman that would have me for so long as it took to tie the knot between us.

I arrived a few minutes before Gwen did, more than enough time to order a bottle of wine for the two of us to share. I’d gotten a good enough look at her kitchen to know the kind of wine she liked and ordered the perfect bottle to suit her tastes. I knew that trying to woo my sister was pointless at this point, that bridge had been properly burned the moment she ejected me from her bed, but despite all that I wanted to impress her, to surprise her with how much I cared for her.

When Gwen arrived she was wearing a gorgeous black dress that fit her body like a glove. Her hair was done up beautifully, pulled back into a tight bun and held in place by a pair of ornate pins. Around her neck glimmered a gorgeous choker I’d recognized from when we were younger.

The longer I watched her the more I found myself unable to stop staring as she sat down. She was utterly stunning, and the way she moved was like out of a dream. Our eyes met as she took her seat and I watched her cheeks fill with color, her eyes turning from mine in embarrassment. I could tell that she was trying to do her best to hide the way she felt, though doing a better job of it than I had been. I wasn’t sure what it was, but the moment she walked into a room, I found myself utterly captivated.

“What do you keep staring at?” she asked, frowning as she laid a folder down next to her plate—what I could only assume were the packets of information on my next perspective match. I was both curious at what she’d brought me and at the same time upset that she was being so damn helpful about going through with all of this.

“Nothing. You just look very nice,” I said, trying not to make an awkward situation any worse. I had to remind myself that I had made the decision to be an adult and go through with this scheme of mine, even though I’d like to feel myself buried in Gwen in the next five minutes, I knew that if I ever wanted to inherit my father’s title than I would have to keep my hands to myself where my stepsister was concerned from now on. If anyone had found out about what the two of us had done already there would be hell to pay.

“Thank you,” she said, though the tone to her voice was colder than I remembered. Was she upset with me? “Are you ready to get down to business?”

“What? No wine first?” I asked, beginning to pour myself a glass from the rather expensive bottle I had ordered. “I asked for one of your favorites.”

“How in the world would you know that?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

“It’s the one that’s littered around your kitchen, Gwennie,” I said, chuckling as I took a long drink. “I’m not a mind reader.”

“None for me,” she said, her eyes narrowed as she pulled out the pictures of a graceful looking young woman. Aside from a few minor details I could have mistaken the woman for Gwen if I didn’t know any better. “This is Denise Halbrook. She’s the daughter of a Member of Parliament and part of the aristocracy. I think that she might just be the perfect match.”

“Pretty enough,” I said, almost upset that Gwen was so focused on doing her job and eager to marry me off. The more I listened to her talk about this woman the more I wanted Gwen instead. I knew I shouldn’t—that I couldn’t—but watching her from across the table was almost its own brand of torture. “You really think that she’s right for me?”

“From the information that I have and what you want to achieve? Yes, absolutely,” Gwen said, laying out a few papers across the table as the waiter stood by waiting to take our order. “She’s got all the clout that you’d need to pacify your father’s inspection. She’s got it all—education, social standing, she even does charity work and keeps a rather low media profile. I have to say I’m impressed.”