Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Was it possible that her visions were preparing her to marry March? She would rather die.
“Kerrigan?” Darby asked in what sounded like alarm.
Had she called her name more than once?
“I … I’m sorry. I think I need some air.”
Before she could glance at Parris’ hurt expression, she barreled back through the dress shop. She threw her shoulder into one screeching lady, managing an apology before she was out the front door. The bell jingled overhead, and then she was on the street.
Heads turned in her direction as panic closed around her. She needed to escape this place. She couldn’t pretend to smile right now.
“Kerrigan,” Darby called, worry in her voice.
“I need to go.”
Darby turned Kerrigan toward her. “Look at me.” Kerrigan met her steady gaze. “Breathe with me. Deep in, slow out.”
Kerrigan followed her motions, letting the rhythm of her healer friend settle over her. The breathing relaxed her, and she felt her nerves slowly begin to ease.
“Thank you,” Kerrigan said. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Oh, we both know that isn’t true.”
Kerrigan shot her a bemused look. “Oh?”
“It is not news to me that you do not wish to marry March. I do not wish to marry Trask either. But we will both fulfill our duties if we must.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I suppose we will.”
Kerrigan wanted to tell her about the dream, but it would make it too real. If the dream was prophecy, there was nothing she could do about it. But she would damn well try.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the two prettiest girls in the Village,” a voice called behind them.
Kerrigan’s eyes widened, and Darby squeezed her hand. “It’s fine.”
She took a breath and turned to face Ashby March. He was dressed in a swath of Bryonican navy, looking up Kerrigan as if she were a delectable treat. The gentleman beside him was one she had only met in passing at previous Season events, but she knew him to be Darby’s fiancé, Lord Trask.
“Lord March. Lord Trask,” Darby said, falling into a deep curtsy.
Her manners were impeccable. Kerrigan’s were not. “How did you know we were here?”
March’s lips pursed. “Trask and I had a business meeting. This is mere coincidence to find our ladies in the Village.”
Liar. He must be having her followed again. Probably the entire time, but definitely since she’d slipped out of their betrothal announcement party on the Row. He was keeping tabs on her. Dozan’s offer was looking more and more tempting.
“Lady Darby,” Trask said. “Might we walk?”
“Of course,” Darby said freely. She shot Kerrigan one last look and then disappeared with her fiancé.
“Shall we?” March asked, offering her his hand.
She was supposed to be feigning that she was falling for him. Not quite besotted, but at least interested, and it was nearly impossible to maintain that right now while she was on the edge of panic.
But she put her hand against his sleeve without grimacing and began to promenade. For a moment, neither said anything as they strolled past the shops.
“I confess that I was anxious to see you again,” March said.
“Were you?”
“Of course. I wish to spend more time with you, Kerrigan.”
She forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s lovely.”
“And to that effect, I thought about our conversation and went ahead with a plan for your election.”
Kerrigan furrowed her brow, not understanding. “What do you mean?”
“Precisely what I said. I have money and influence. I have arranged to throw a party to help with your election to the council. Invitations went out this morning.” He slid one out of his coat and passed it to her.
She stared down at the precise calligraphy with dismay. He clearly wanted her to gush over him and thank him profusely for his help, but she still felt too uneasy to manage it. And the date … was the night before her eighteenth name day. Well, before the day they all thought was her eighteenth at least. She certainly wasn’t informing him about her real celebration.
“This is right before my name day.”
“Yes. I thought it would be fitting to have a sort of second party. I knew you would have your own festivities on the day, but I thought we could celebrate together like this.”
He looked so earnest. He was an incredible actor. He had nearly fooled her before the winter holiday until his plans began to unravel and the real Ashby March revealed himself. She couldn’t entirely believe his bullshit right now, but at the same time, she sort of needed this party. She didn’t have another option.
But she hated every single thing that brought her closer to him.
“That sounds wonderful,” she finally admitted. “Thank you.”
His smile bloomed like a sunflower in the Bryonican countryside. “Anything for my lady.”
14
THE HISTORY
Audria fluttered a piece of paper in her face later in the week. “Look what I just received.”