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Dad sighed, his whole face darkening with sadness. “You won’t be. You’re completely different people, you and your brother.”
Piers had only been twenty years older than me when I was born, the closest to me in age, so he was the sibling I knew the most. He was a free spirit, reckless, and probably too wild sometimes, but he had a good heart. Despite that good heart, he’d made a laughing stock of the Calvert family five years ago at a ball whereallthe ruling families had been in attendance. He’d tried to woo a woman who had zero interest in him—not that he’d known that—and she’d viciously rejected him before turning her sharp tongue on our family, too. She’d quickly and efficiently dissected us until every family in attendance looked at us with scorn or pity.
We’d onlyjuststarted to recover our social status, and that was mostly because people were curious about me now I was taking suitors.
“If I screw this up—” I started.
“You won’t,” Dad cut off gently, pulling me into a swift hug that was all gangly limbs and sharp elbows. “And even if somethingdoesgo badly wrong, if any of these men speak to you the way Sofia spoke to Piers, it won’t change your place in this family.”
But they’d be disappointed, I knew. They wanted the fairy tale happily ever after for me, and they’d be gutted if this played out differently.
“You don’t think … we sent him away?” Dad asked suddenly, peering into my face with aching grief as my face heated. “Roxie, Piers left because he didn’t want to face the families. We never made him go.”
“I know,” I sighed, and then pasted on a smile, as much for myself as my dad. “I’m sure you’re right; I’ll be okay.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he stepped back and picked up the bags. Mum beeped the horn outside, and we both laughed. Her impatience was legendary. “Call us if you need us.”
“I will,” I promised. I kept up my smile until he’d left, until the door was shut behind him, and then let it fall. I swore dad took all the light from the house when he left, and now I stood in gloomy shadows.
I knew Piers had never been forced out, but he hadn’t felt like this was his home anymore. He’d felt unwanted, and that happening to me was what I dreaded the most.
I had to make a good impression on these suitors.
Ihadto.
TWO
There were only so many times I could fluff a cushion, but that didn’t stop me taking another sweep of the sitting room where I’d receive my guests. I’d had a cup of chamomile tea in an attempt to settle my nerves, but it hadn’t had any effect, and I was still terrified, my stomach in knots and my hands trembling as I adjusted the positioning of a tassel on the curtain tie-backs.
“Oh hell,” I breathed at the soft crunch of tires on gravel outside. Here—one of them washere. And I had to receive them. Right now. I had to pull myself together, stop shaking, and charm them until they liked me.
Or at least not make a total fool of myself. A lower bar was probably a good idea.
“Alright, Roxie,” I breathed, brushing creases from my long red dress, “you’ve got this. Just don’t go on any long rants about random history that no one wants to know about. No bookish talk. And don’t think about the box of condoms.”
They were XXL—I’d checked after Mum and Dad had driven off. Did all vampires have huge cocks, or had Dad erred on the side of caution?
I resisted looking out of the windows I passed on the way to the front door, brushing my hands through my blonde waves until they were more artful than messy.
Don’t rush to them, I heard Mum’s voice counsel me. We’d gone through this whole process—minus the need for XXL condoms—these few weeks. I’d insisted on going over every minute detail in a bid to lessen my anxiety.
It hadn’t worked.
A car door shut, and I jumped, a squeak escaping before I could muffle it.
“Stay cool, Roxie, you’re a dignified lady of the Calvert family line,” I whispered, twisting my fingers together as I headed into the dim hall. “Dignified ladies do not have panic attacks in their own hallways.”
Except this dignified lady had a hundred pound weight on her chest compressing her lungs, her head was starting to feel woozy from a lack of oxygen, and her knees were trembling.
The knock on the door only made it worse, and I jumped half a mile. “Calm,” I breathed. “Calm.”
The handle was a cool, grounding touch against my palm as I opened the door, but I couldn’t drag a breath in.
“Roxana Calvert?” a warm, raspy voice asked.
I stared at the short-haired man standing on the wide steps at the front of the house. He was nothing like I’d expected. Instead of coattails and stuffy shirts, a navy blue T-shirt clung to his biceps and pecs, and grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. He was far more casual than I’d expected, and that was before I saw the way his eyes crinkled, his mouth split in a friendly smile.
Not stuffy or cold at all, but welcoming, open.
