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know me. How can he possibly think I’ll make a good wife?”

“You are dwelling on the wrong factors. None of that matters. He’ll know you better once you marry.”

While she knew marriages were often arranged before the couples knew each other, she didn’t want to endure such an arrangement. Then again, she only wanted James.

“Now then,” Lord Wynn continued, “he will officially start courting you this afternoon by calling on you. You may speak with him at length then. That should satisfy your need to share more about yourself.” Her father leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk. “But do not think for a moment that you can do or say anything to ruin this opportunity. Do I make myself clear?”

In the past, she would’ve agreed, albeit reluctantly. She had done all in her power to make her father and mother happy. She had been a quiet, biddable daughter, always obedient—until these last few weeks. But how could she do as he asked when he thought Lord Samuelson would make her a fine husband?

She didn't bother to look at her mother but focused instead on her father. Surely somewhere deep inside him, he wanted her to be happy. She was his only daughter. Didn't that mean something?

“Father, the more I consider Lord Samuelson the less I think we would make a good match.”

“Nonsense. You just advised me that you don’t know each other well. How can you be so quick to judge?”

“I know it in my heart. Please allow me one more Season before any decisions about my future husband are made. I will do my best to find a gentleman I admire and of whom you will also approve.” James, her heart shouted, sending wild, desperate hope spearing through her. What if she truly could convince him they belonged together?

“Charlotte, you do not know your own mind regarding this.” Her father scowled with disbelief. “You are but a woman.”

“I do know my mind. In fact, I am certain of it. I’m telling you that I do not want to marry Lord Samuelson.” She clenched her fists in her lap, aware of the risk she took by so clearly expressing her disagreement.

Her father's eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “You have obviously had too much freedom if you think what you want matters. The purpose of marriage is not happiness but to solidify the line and improve the financial aspects of a family. Lord Samuelson and I will make an agreement that benefits us both.” Her father glanced away, almost as if embarrassed.

That only puzzled her more but didn’t change her mind. “I will not marry him.”

“What did you say?” Her father slapped his hands on the desk and jerked to his feet. He leaned over the desk, his body trembling with anger. That made two of them. “You will not speak to me in that tone. You will do as I say or face the consequences.”

“Yes, Charlotte.” Her mother’s cold hand on her arm startled her. “You will do as your father says. He knows what is best.”

“But—”

“You will wait in your chamber until Lord Samuelson’s arrival.” Her father straightened, staring at her grimly. “Then you will greet him with a smile and a kind word. You will do everything in your power to make him feel welcome or life as you know it will end this very day as you’ll spend the foreseeable future locked in your bedchamber. Now go. Get out of my sight.”

Charlotte stood, her entire body shaking with outrage. Yet the sight of her mother’s hand trembling on the arm of the chair gave her pause. A glance at her face showed fear pinching her features.

Charlotte’s breath caught as she realized what she had done. She should’ve found a different way to protest.

“I blame you for creating such an ungrateful daughter,” her father said as he pointed at her mother.

“This has nothing to do with Mother,” Charlotte said, unable to remain silent.

“Go.” Her mother’s quiet tone hurt Charlotte far more than her father’s lecture.

Charlotte turned and walked out slowly despite the urge to run. Her heart was heavy, for she knew her mother would pay for her attempt at rebellion. What choice did she have but to go along with her father’s plan? She closed the door behind her and continued to her bedchamber, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

If she were blessed with children, she would be a different sort of parent. One who shared affection and encouragement easily. One who spoke openly of right and wrong, of obligations and choices. But if Lord Samuelson was the father of her children, all of that might prove impossible, for she saw too much of her father in the man.

Charlotte shivered with despair, but she still held a crumb of hope—hope that James cared for her.

~*~

James paced the study of his apartment, rubbing a hand over his face. The night had been long and terrible. The images that lingered from his dreams had yet to fade.

He eyed the crystal decanter and glasses that sat on the nearby table but knew alcohol only offered temporary numbness. But the notion of any sort of numbness was welcome. Especially after receiving the brief note from Charlotte.

James,

Can we meet this afternoon?

C

Their time together had to come to an end. He needed to find the strength to tell her that.

The night had been one of the more miserable since his return home. His nightmare of the last terrible battle had been so real. The chaos. The darkness interspersed by flashes of light. The cannon fire that had bombarded his regiment and torn them apart. Literally. Bits and pieces of his men had flown about as one heavy blast after another struck them.

He wasn't certain why the nightmare had been so vivid this time, but it left him with his heart pounding and in a cold sweat. The thought of reliving that again—over and over as seemed to be his destiny—made him shudder. He wasn't strong enough

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