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Of course not. I must be kept secluded here, away from normal people.
I nod once, because that’s all I can bring myself to do.
“We’ll be married soon,” he adds over his shoulder as he disappears once more in the closet. “You need to act like a Savage, Olivia.”
Imminent doom chills my heart and I fight to control it. Our wedding has been arranged, by his mother and mine. I get the respectable and feared Savage name, and he gets a wife who will allow him to be who he is without asking questions or having expectations.
I won’t expect him to be a real husband to me, because I already know the truth.
He’s a monster.
Nothing can change that, and he knows that I know.
It’s probably why he can’t bring himself to look at me.
“You may go,” he adds as an afterthought while he ties his shoes.
Gladly.
I don’t look back.
* * *
Dinner is a refined and uncomfortable affair at Whitley.
The dining room table can seat thirty, yet only three of us are here. Richard, Eleanor and me.
My fork accidentally scrapes my china plate and Eleanor glances up at me in disapproval. I flinch.
She swallows her bite of chicken, then stares at me.
“The wedding date has been set.”
My heart pounds.
I don’t want to ask, I don’t want to show my panic, but when Richard doesn’t inquire, I have to.
“And when is it?”
I hate how small my voice sounds, so weak.
“Thirty days. Everything is being arranged. You won’t need to do anything.”
Anything other than shackle myself to Richard, that is.
“Will Mr. Savage return for the wedding?” I don’t know why I’m curious, other than the fact that Richard Savage I is the only friendly person in the family. His eyes are warm, his smile is genuine. He’s a person I think I truly like, an ally, almost. He’s always kind to me.
Eleanor’s eyes are icy.
“Perhaps. It’s hard to say.”
Mr. Savage has been away on business for a week already. Surely he won’t be gone for another month.
A month.
One month.
Thirty days.
