that she asked you to wear white.”
“Your daughter doesn’t have a lot of white in her closet,” I said, trying to stay calm while inside I was seething. Everyone wanted me to dress up and play pretend like I was a doll, but somehow it was my fault when the game went poorly.
He pointed his index finger at me, brows raised, and leveled a command. “Fix this.”
He didn’t wait for me to respond. Instead, he stormed away. I didn’t follow.
The inside of the solarium was full of plants. Exotic ferns and flowers sat in pots on over-filled tables. The air was humid, warmer than the climate-controlled house, and stuffier than outside. The space had been cultivated into a lavish greenhouse rather than another showy living space. It was clear that whoever kept it spent considerable hours tending to the plants. The only light inside the glass room came from the lights of the party which had spilled into the garden. I could hear laughter and conversation, too distant to make out. Outside people were having a good time, and I found myself dreading my eventual return to the champagne and gossip and curious eyes. Reaching out, I ran a finger down a large green leaf, its rubbery surface squeaking softly at my touch. Behind me, footsteps approached but I didn’t turn to see who had disturbed my temporary sanctuary. I knew by the way my body responded—as though it sensed him before it saw him. My nipples tightened, pushing against the fabric of my dress, my pulse quickened, and goosebumps rippled across my bare skin.
“Monstera albo,” Spencer’s voice called. “It’s incredibly rare to see that depth of variegation.”
“It’s different,” I murmured.
“Different?” he repeated. “You don’t like it? It’s considered a beautiful specimen by most people who see it.”
“Different can mean beautiful. I think it would be a disservice to dismiss it with such a general term as beautiful, though. Don’t you think?” I asked.
There was a pause, and I wondered if I’d screwed up again. Obviously, I’d done something that had upset him or he wouldn’t have delayed announcing our engagement. When he finally spoke, his words were thick with meaning. “You aren’t what I expected.”
“Is that why you’re having second thoughts?” I studied the leaf more closely, suddenly finding myself intensely interested in the nearby plants. I couldn’t bring myself to face him. I was afraid that away from the glittering lights and distractions of the soiree, he would see right through me.
“I saw your father drag you off. I thought I should come and explain myself.” He reached out and took my hand. “It’s not second thoughts.”
“But you don’t want to marry me,” I pressed. I needed to understand why. That was the only one I could fix.
“Do you want to marry me?” He tugged gently on my hand, urging me around to finally look at him.
The darkness cast shadows across his handsome face, making it impossible to read anything in his eyes. He had a drink in his hand and the heat of bourbon warmed his breath. I could smell it lingering on him. He was going to keep asking questions instead of answering mine, thus making it impossible for me to decide what the right answer was. That only left me one choice: honesty. “I don’t know.”
Well, as honest as I could be. If I were Kerrigan, I wouldn’t be sure, even if I had committed to the arrangement. Isn’t that why she had run away?
“Exactly,” Spencer said. I gawked at him for a second before composing myself. “How can we know?”
“But you agreed to this,” I pointed out.
“So did you,” he said.
“What changed?” I asked. “Was it yesterday?”
Even in the dimness, I spotted his confusion. “Yesterday.”
I swallowed, feeling an anxious lump forming in my throat. “At Hillgrove’s when I accidentally...you know…”
“I’m sorry I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kerrigan. I had business in the city all day.”
“You had a lunch,” I stammered, wondering if I was losing my mind. “I was there with my stepmother and your mum and sister. You sent champagne. The note?”
I couldn’t bring myself to raise the issue of what had happened in the loo. If I’d dreamed up the whole experience, the last thing I wanted was to confess that I’d had some sort of waking fantasy about getting off while he fucked another woman.
“Hillgrove’s?” He snorted, shaking his head. “That bastard.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I was in the city, but trust Holden to be in the right place at the