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“I could go and change...”
“No, Morton will be here soon and I want you to greet him right when he comes.”
I nod, following her out to the porch where Mr. Bryce is waiting. He’s tall while his wife is short and slim while she is plump and his bristly, white moustache makes him look slightly petrifying.
Throwing a glance at the oak alley, I go and sit down on the porch swing and clasp my hands in my knees, murmuring, “When did you say Morton was coming?”
“Should’ve been here five minutes ago but traffic must be bad.”
Traffic is never bad around this area. It’s secluded, exclusive to only the special few. And we’re so old fashioned around here that sometimes it feels like being stuck in time. Here manners still matter but nothing matters more than reputation and people guard theirs until froth comes out of their mouths.
Miss. Pattie turns to me, her face shining from joy.
“Oh, isn’t it sweet how excited our Zinnia is to see our Morton again. Nothing compares to young love.”
I look down, averting my gaze because I am not excited. Morton has been working up north for months and I wouldn’t mind if he stayed longer. It’s probably not how you should feel about your betrothed but I can’t control it.
The heart wants what the heart wants. And it doesnotwant Morton.
When fifteen minutes pass, I start getting restless and I get up, crossing my arms and frown. The weather has changed just like that. It was sunny only a while ago but now thick and dark clouds are creeping over the sky. It wouldn’t surprise me if it starts raining soon.
Shivering I murmur, “Do you mind if I go and grab some sweet tea? I’m thirsty.”
Miss. Pattie glances at me with distress. “Not now. Have some patience and wait for your future husband like you’re supposed to.”
Inwardly I grimace and the heels I’m wearing are starting to hurt but I do as she says. And so I stay and wait for my future husband to arrive. Minutes pass but then there’s a glimpse of a car by the oaks and I stretch my neck to be able to see well.
A furrow forms between my brows. Is that really Morton’s car? It doesn’t look like it but maybe he bought a new one. Miss. Pattie lets out an enthusiastic sound at the prosperity of meeting her son again but all I feel is numbness.
He’s coming here because we’re supposed to get to know each other properly before the wedding. But I wince at the idea of long conversations with Morton or being forced to endure his clammy fingers skimming my skin.
I shudder again and Miss. Pattie smiles, mistaking my shivers for eagerness. The car stops but the windows are tinted and for some reason my stomach flip slops. A chauffeur sporting a serious expression on his face gets out and I raise my brows.
The Bryce family is rich but not rich enough to afford a private chauffeur. Perhaps Morton made heaps and heaps of money while up north? I jerk when Miss. Pattie yanks at my arm, hissing in my ear,
“You must kiss him as soon as you see him!”
I ignore her, because I don’t want to kiss him. I don’t want to have anything to do with him.
My throat snares when the chauffeur opens the door to the backseat but it’s not Morton who gets out. Instead it’s a stranger. He’s very tall and broad shouldered with hair as black as a raven. It is slicked back and stressing his high cheekbones and masculine jaw.
A tremble moves through my bones at the sight of him and when his black eyes roam over all of us but arrests on me that tremble increases.Who is he? I need to know, suddenly I need to know everything about him.
He walks toward us and he moves like a threat and that polite smile he gives doesn’t fool me. There is cold-bloodedness to this man and it makes me feel strangely vulnerable. When he steps up on the porch, his dynamism overwhelms me and it feels like someone just opened the door to a sauna.
If I was anything like Miss. Pattie I too would have raised my hand and started fanning myself.
“Mr. Bryce,” the stranger says and his voice is a dizzying combination of persuasion and power. I’ve never heard anything like it. He reaches out his palm and Mr. Bryce is quick to shake it. “I am Abram Rowe. Your son, Morton did business with me up north.”
“Yes...” Mr. Bryce clears his throat, “yes of course, I remember he told me about you.”
The stranger nods, glancing at me from the corner of his eye and I feel my body flood with heat. What is happening to me? Is this because I barely ate and drank anything today or is it because of him?
“It’s lovely meeting you, Mr. Rowe,” Miss. Pattie says and she looks at the stranger like he’s the most handsome man she’s ever seen. And he probably is. “But if you don’t mind me asking, where is our dear boy? Didn’t he accompany you?”
“I’m afraid that Morton couldn’t make it due to unforeseen circumstances. He asked me to take a detour and tell you that he will be staying up north and finish some business.” The stranger puts his hands behind his back. “He also asked me to tell you that he was going to need some time alone and doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
This is odd news. Not what we expected. My eyes narrow in doubt but Mr. Bryce exclaims,
