Garrett
Chapter 15
“Ava is a lovely thing. I wish I hadn’t let George break their engagement,” my father said, puffing on his Belvedere. Standing in the hallway outside of the ballroom, I welcomed the warm spring air, but not my father interrupting my peace and quiet. I continued to look out at the cloudless sky, stars flickering through every inch of it.
“She is lovely,” I said.
My father cleared his throat and placed a large hand on my shoulder. “Speaking of lovely, the Lady Sophia Chitwood is quite beautiful.”
I groaned. “She is a spoiled chit. I feel bad for any man who falls into her little trap.”
“She is an only child, Garr, and her mother is dead. Her father has every right to spoil her.”
“Doesn’t excuse her behavior,” I argued. “She is a straight pain in the balls.”
“Sophia is young; she will grow out of it.”
“Was there something I could do for you?” I peered over my shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be in there spoiling your wife for her birthday?”
Father sighed. “Her friends are entertaining her just fine. I need a break. That woman has been driving me mad with plans of this party.” He leaned on the window paneling and looked out. “Now that I’ve spoken to your brother about what I want, I’m going to do the same with you.”
“And that would be what?” I asked him, staring a hole into the back of his head. He wasn’t about to boss my life around. I wasn’t going to stay for this shit.
“Let’s go discuss this around the corner,” he insisted, pushing off the window sill. Watching him walk down the hallway, he turned around when he didn’t hear me following him. He waved an arm at me. “C’mon, I don’t want this to take all damn night.”
I hesitated a moment longer and decided to get it over with. Not knowing what he had on his mind increased my irritation. We entered a nearby parlor, painted in deep red, with the ugliest black and gold vined carpeting I’d ever seen.
My father leaned against the small desk. “Grab us a drink off the mantel, will you, son?” I made my way over, pulling out two glasses and decanter of rum. “If something happens to George...”
“Nothing will happen to George,” I said plainly, pouring brandy into the glasses.
“But if something does, then—”
I looked over my shoulder. “Do you think I’d let anything happen to my damn brother?” I snapped, irritated that I was in this room when all I wanted was a moment to myself.
“Let me finish, boy,” my father growled. I walked over to him, handing him a glass. “If something happens to George, Ava will still become heir to the throne. I’ll need you here to help.”
I turned to face him. “I’m going home to Aruna when this is all over,” I retorted.
Father shrugged. “Plans change.”
“Mine don’t.”
He narrowed his eyes at me over his glass. “You might not be Tellivan, but you’re my son. If I need you here, you’ll stay here.” I took a seat in a chair and raised a brow.
“I don’t need to be here; you’re here.”
“I plan on stepping down from the throne and giving it to your brother within a few months,” my father advised, taking a sip.
“About damn time.”
He chuckled. “I want to be able to enjoy the remaining years of my life hunting and reading, not having so much responsibility.”
I nodded. “Does Cecilia know?”
Father shook his head. “No. Not yet. I was waiting for this party to be over. But this is my decision, and she must follow suit. She’ll deal with it in time.”
“I wish you all the luck in the world.” I could imagine the screams and rants from Cecilia now. I took sip of my drink.
“There is more as well, that I wanted to discuss with you. Lord Chitwood and I have been discussing Sophia’s future. We thought you both would make a good match together.”
I almost choked. “No!” I erected from my chair and raked a hand through my hair. I walked back to the brandy, needing another drink. “I will not be pinned down with that bitch for the rest of my life. She would drive me mad.”
“You could mold her into a fine wife and mother for your children,” he said calmly. “I know she might be outspoken and a challenge now, but you are good with fixing things. I am confident that—”
“I will not marry her. Not now nor ever.”
Father glanced at me, unaffected by my outrage. He sipped at his brandy before speaking again. “I will allow you time to think about it.”
I threw my glass against the wall, hearing it shatter, as I turned to face him. “You’re not understanding me. I’m not George; you’re not about to dictate my life. I’m not going to get forced, conned, or argued into marrying that whore of a woman!”
“Lord Chitwood is a powerful judge in the council. I need the backup to keep the funds coming in for the army, and—”
“I thought that’s why you were in business with Lord Barlow and the local farmers. You’ve wanted to get out of the Lords’ power of funding our army. You know that half of these jackasses are crooked as hell.”
“It takes years for that to fall into place,” he retorted, pacing the front of the desk. “Our harsh winters have made Lord Rousell’s, the idiot farmer, crops suffer. It pushed us back.”
I strolled to the door, not able to listen to any more of this. “I hope that was it.”
“No, that was not it!” my father bellowed from behind me, but I didn’t stop moving. No one was going to order me on who the hell I was going to marry because I wasn’t going down the road. “Garrett!”
“Too the fuck bad,” I said, opening the door. “Don’t bring this type of shit to me again.”
“Walk out that door, and I’ll just go to my next plan.”
I looked over my shoulder at him. His face was red, clenching his fist at his side. “What’s that?”
“Trust me,” he noted with a hint of warning. “You’ll like this plan a lot better.”