“Yes,” he said curtly. “One of my investors: Lord Brone.”
Lord Brone? The name meant nothing to me, but already my chest tightened as foreboding clenched me in its icy grip.
“He’s my wealthiest and most valuable investor,” Father continued, oblivious to my escalating panic. “He’s heard of my recent…difficulties, and has offered his assistance…for a price.”
My heart thudded wildly as I sensed where this horrible conversation was leading. Several months ago, Father had lost his most valuable ship when it was en route to a very profitable trading post. The recent selling of some of our more valuable pieces had already told me our situation was dire; apparently it was worse than I could have imagined…and that I was the latest commodity Father would put up for sale.
“You’ve offered my hand?”
He nodded. “He’ll pay generously.”
“Isn’t it normally the father who pays a handsome dowry to persuade someone to marry his daughter?” Bitterness laced the respectful tone that up until now I’d fought—and was now failing—to maintain.
“In most situations yes, but this is being done as a favor to me. He’s one of my most faithful clients as well as an old friend. He believes I’m only experiencing a minor setback and is investing in my business in hopes of a later profit. Yet he isn’t a philanthropist; he wants something in exchange, as any savvy businessman would.”
“And he wants me?” My tone was skeptical, for I highly doubted that. No one wanted me, and I wanted to keep it that way, at least in instances like this.
“I haven’t informed him of your—” He motioned up and down, gesturing to all of me.
I folded my arms, too angry to mask my emerging scowl. “I’m surprised such a wealthy man who can save your business hasn’t already married. Why hasn’t he found a wife before now?”
“Because most men have been…hesitant to offer their daughters. It’s been a source of great frustration for him.”
Whatever had caused other fathers’ hesitancy, obviously mine had no such qualms. I opened my mouth to retort, but he snapped his hand up, silencing my words.
“Further arguing is pointless. We’ve already signed the engagement contract. It’s done.”
It’s done—my fate sealed with two heartless words. But I refused to go down without a fight. “And you don’t worry he’ll feel tricked when he sees me?”
Father shrugged. “He’s a practical man more than a sentimental one. He’s getting on in years and needs a caregiver and an heir. You should fulfill those responsibilities satisfactorily, which is all that matters.”
My stomach twisted. I took several steadying breaths in an attempt to push the nausea away, but it only continued to churn. “What if I’m too feisty for him?” Which I’d do everything in my power to ensure.
Father smirked. “Then it’d be prudent to warn you that his reputation precedes him as being a rather…harsh man. You’d be a fool to rile him.”
Which meant only one thing. My stomach coiled in fear: I was being given to an abusive, heartless brute.
Father was surveying me as if I were up for auction. “It’s a pity you don’t look more like your mother.”
It wouldn’t have made a difference. It wouldn’t have caused him to care for me, for seeing me would only remind him of how much he missed her.
I pushed away memories of Mother and lifted my chin. “You cannot make me marry him.”
Father stood to glower down at me. “That’s irrelevant; you’ll do as I say and marry him if I have to drag you to the chapel and threaten you into saying your vows. Don’t think I won’t.”
And he would. Panic swelled, clawing at my throat. Marriage…to a man I didn’t know or love; even worse, he was an abuser. No, that wouldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it. My defiance swelled within me. I tightened my jaw. “I won’t.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously, but I ignored the warning in them to hold my tongue, for I refused to be silent and submissive.
“I won’t marry him,” I continued firmly. “You can threaten me, but you cannot force me. I refuse to attach myself to such a beast of a man.”
He glared and leaned in closer. “You seem to be under the impression you have a choice in the matter; you don’t. It’s done, Maren.”
There was always a choice. “I do, and I’ve made mine.” I stood to leave, but Father reached across the desk to seize my arm and yank me back down.
“Don’t leave until I’ve excused you,” he snarled. “And you won’t leave until you’ve seen reason. You’ll marry Lord Brone if it’s the last thing you ever do. Do you understand me?”
Anger seared through me, hot and burning, until I was seeing red. I glared at him but said nothing.
“Let me be frank with you, Maren,” he hissed darkly. “This is your last chance for security. Due to your looks and your rambunctious ways, you will never get another offer, so unless you want to end up on the streets, you’d best accept this one gratefully.”
“I don’t care if this is my only offer; I don’t want to marry.”
It was a lie—I did. But I didn’t want to be forced into an arrangement; I wanted to find love…even though that wish felt impossible. For while I saw nothing wrong with myself, apparently everyone else did, especially men.
But even in these less-than-ideal circumstances, I refused to settle for unhappiness. Since marriage was a seemingly impossible dream, I’d have to settle for a life alone, one I was determined to fill with adventures. Being strapped to a horrible man who’d acquired me through a business deal with Father and who would undoubtedly make my life miserable was something I refused to tolerate. It was my life, and I refused to give control of it to anybody but myself.
The rest of my earlier panic gradually subsided, replaced with a sense of peace. I made up my mind right then and there about what I’d do should Father remain unyielding…which unsurprisingly he did. He spent a good hour yelling and threatening me, which I took calmly, my resolve for my chosen course of action giving me the inner strength to withstand his emotional blows.
“He’ll come for you first thing tomorrow morning,” Father finally concluded. “Until then, you’ll be locked in your bedroom. Now leave.”
He dismissed me with a disgusted wave of his hand. I rose gracefully, keeping my expression submissive so as to not allow him to detect any sign of my resistance, while inside I was defiant.
For once I was glad Father scarcely knew me, for he clearly didn’t realize that a bolted door couldn’t keep me locked away, not when there was a perfectly good window that I could use to escape in the dead of night.
Father couldn’t keep me a prisoner.
But apparently, the enchanted gardens of the Malvagarian palace could.
Chapter 4
A soft touch caressed my brow, stirring me from a restless sleep I hadn’t realized I’d fallen into. I groggily opened my eyes, expecting to see a lady’s maid hovering over me, but instead…I bolted upright with a startled gasp. The potted carnations on my nightstand hastily withdrew before swaying in apology.