"My grandmother runs a herbal medicine practice. The Rowan line has been working with medicinal plants for generations."
"How...quaint." The word could mean charming. It doesn't. "Calder comes from a family with significant holdings. Real estate, investments, legacy. I'm sure you understand why we have certain expectations for his future."
I understand perfectly. I'm not wealthy enough, not polished enough, not Maidenhill Academy enough.
"I understand you want what's best for your son," I say carefully. "We do too."
"Do you?" Margaret looks at me, really looks, and I see what she's thinking. Gold digger. Social climber. Wrong class, wrong training, wrong everything.
Calder's hand tightens on mine. "Mother, stop."
"I'm simply being realistic, darling. Victoria is prepared for this kind of match. Surely you can see the difference?—"
"The difference," Calder says quietly, dangerously, "is that Victoria is someoneyouchose. Elowen is someoneIchose."
Victoria makes a small sound. When I look at her, she's staring at her folded hands with an expression that might be pain or relief or both.
Margaret opens her mouth, closes it, tries again. "Calder, you're our only son. Your future?—"
"Is mine." He stands, pulling me up with him. "I'm sorry you traveled all this way for nothing. Victoria deserves better than this. We all do."
"Sit down," Margaret snaps.
"No." Calder looks at his father. "Dad, I respect you. I respect that you want me to be happy. But forcing Victoria into this situation, ambushing me with an arranged match I've already declined… this isn't the way."
Robert studies his son for a long moment. Then he looks at Victoria, who still hasn't lifted her gaze from her hands.
"Mrs. Ashford," Victoria says, voice barely above a whisper. "May I speak with Calder? Alone?"
Everyone goes still.
Margaret's eyes narrow. "I don't think?—"
"Please." Victoria finally looks up, and there's something desperate in her expression. "It won’t take long."
Robert puts a hand on his wife's arm. "Let them talk, Margaret."
Margaret looks like she wants to argue. But years of social training win, she can't make a scene on a college campus, can't be seen as unreasonable.
"Five minutes," she says tightly.
Calder nods to me and walks with Victoria toward a nearby oak tree. Far enough for privacy, close enough to stay visible.
I watch them go, stomach tight with something I refuse to name as jealousy. She's beautiful and polished and exactly what his mother wants. And I'm...
"Hey." Tyler's voice is quiet. "You okay?"
I nod and look at Margaret Ashford, at the way she's watching her son with Victoria like she's mentally planning their wedding.
"I will be."
Under the oak tree, Victoria and Calder stand facing each other. She's talking, hands twisting together. He's listening, occasionally shaking his head or responding. At one point he puts a hand on her shoulder, a brotherly gesture, and she looks up at him with something like gratitude.
Margaret watches them with barely concealed hope.
I watch and try not to feel like I'm losing something I barely got to keep.
"She's not the enemy," Julian whispers beside me.
