Just wait until he meets me. His future wife. I’m a little ball of joy.
Insert sarcasm here.
I get so lost in scrolling through the endless photos of Perry Constantine, I lose track of time, startling when there’s a soft knock on my door, followed by, “May I come in?”
My mother.
“Yes,” I call and the door swings open.
Doja jumps off my lap and crawls under my bed, a low growl emanating from her throat. She really doesn’t like my mother, and I can’t figure out why.
Louisa Lancaster cuts an elegant figure no matter where she’s at or what she’s doing. For instance, she’s currently in her “spending the day at home” attire, which is a cream-colored cashmere crewneck sweater and matching cashmere pants. A thin gold chain dangles from her neck and she flutters her hands, the giant diamonds on her fingers flashing and twinkling in the light.
“Are you excited?” she asks, clasping her hands together and tucking them under her chin as she studies me.
“About my impending marriage I only just found out about, to a complete stranger?” I roll my eyes. “Absolutely thrilled.”
Mother drops her hands, disappointment etched all over her face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know it’s not quite what you envisioned for your future, but your father is giving us no choice. The deal is done. He thought this was the best way for you to find someone after the other…failed attempts.”
Failed attempts? I can only think of the one. Did they really believe I would go to Paris and find my future husband? That’s hard to believe.
Instead, I met a darkly handsome charmer who sweet-talked me right out of my panties after only a couple of months of what I believed to be harmless flirting and endless conversations about Parisian architecture.
God, what a mess I made.
And we can’t forget my debutante ball. My father believed the finest young men Manhattan had to offer would be lining up to date me upon my debut. After that disastrous night, not a one of them came calling.
Is that even a thing?
My negative vibe that evening didn’t help my chances. I didn’t want to be there, and I made it painfully obvious. I didn’t want to go through the entire spectacle, knowing I would undoubtedly fail. That no one would be interested in me. I was only going through the motions to make my parents happy, and besides, it was expected of me because I’m a Lancaster.
What they’ve discovered is I’m the most boring Lancaster to ever exist.
The last year has been peaceful. Quiet. No one has asked me to do anything, and I love it. I fend for myself. I spend time with the servants and enjoy their company. I’ve read enough books to fuel my rather fervent imagination. I’ve dabbled in writing. Mostly poetry.
I like my solitary existence. I don’t need something like a freaking husband to mess that up.
Once my father makes up his mind, he won’t budge. He believes this is my only recourse, and he won’t let me back out of it. And if it’s messed up somehow, and we don’t go through with the marriage, it’ll end up being my fault.
It always is.
And I’ll pay the price.
I always do.
“We need to pick out a dress for you to wear to your engagement party,” Mother says, pointing at me when I open my mouth. I slam my lips shut. “And nothing black. You want to look like a radiant bride-to-be, not a depressed goth girl.”
I can’t believe my mother just called me a goth girl. “Perfect. I can wear black to the wedding, then.” I smile serenely, knowing she’s going to turn me down, but attempting to shoot my shot anyway.
The expression of horror on my mother’s face is comical. “Absolutely not. You can’t wear black to your wedding, Charlotte. That’s so…unbecoming.”
Knew she’d say that. “The whole idea of this wedding is unbecoming if you ask me. I don’t even know him.”
“You’ll get to know him,” Mother says, like what’s happening to me is perfectly normal.
“At our engagement party?” I actually scoff, which I can tell irritates her. Everything I do seems to irritate her. “When is the wedding date anyway?”
“Sometime in late October, though it’s not one hundred percent confirmed yet,” she answers.
My favorite month, ruined thanks to getting married to a total stranger. “Great. That’s less than six weeks away.”
Why the rush? And who is this guy? Why would he so readily agree to marry me, sight unseen?
None of this makes sense.
“Darling, this is a good thing. A solid marriage you can count on. Someone to have children with. You know, your fiancé is rather attractive.” The gleam in my mother’s eye fills me with unease.
Everyone knows Louisa Lancaster hasn’t been faithful to her husband, which I suppose is fine because he’s not faithful to her either. They put on a united front, and for the most part, I do believe they’re united. They’re friendly. There’s no obvious animosity, but their relationship lost all spark long, long ago. Maybe it never had any spark to begin with. They continue to each have their affairs on the side, but nothing too blatant or obvious.
Yet somehow everyone knows my father’s penchant for women with bright red—overly fake—hair and my mother’s desire for a younger man. She keeps getting older, yet they stay the same age.
Around twenty. Twenty-five tops. Once they creep closer to thirty, it’s over.
And that’s gross.
“He is,” I say simply, wondering at the unfamiliar possessive feeling I’m experiencing toward him. Not that he belongs to me, but he is my future husband.
Meaning he’s off-limits to my mother.
“You must prepare for this engagement party, Charlotte. There’s no time to waste considering it’s happening in a week. Next Saturday evening. We’ll be having it here at the house. Something small and tasteful. Oh and you’re scheduled to take your engagement announcement photos Wednesday afternoon at one o’clock in the park.”
“What? I’m taking photos with him? There’s going to be an engagement announcement?” I jump to my feet and start pacing. I would never do this in front of my father, but my mother? I don’t care.
She watches me pace, wringing her hands together. “Of course, there will be. It’s what’s done—what’s always been done. You’re our only daughter and you’re about to get married, so we want to show you off.”
It takes everything inside of me not to laugh. That’s not the point of this at all, and she knows it. I know it too. This isn’t them being excited for their only daughter’s impending nuptials.
This is my father flexing to his business associates—and enemies—that he is uniting with this Constantine family and they’ll supposedly become a force to be reckoned with. For all I know, the Constantines want to flex the merger as well. I’m sure they do. Our family is richer than God.
And that’s all this is to them. To everyone. A business merger of two families coming together. Straight out of the Middle Ages.
“Does he even want to marry me?” I’m sure most everyone in my parents’ circles knows my reputation. There is no one lining up, eager to take me out.