Page 2 of An Engagement with the Enemy

His father’s chest puffed up. “Invitations have already been sent—”

“What?” James stiffened, but his father ignored him.

“—and we have drawn up a schedule, a calendar, of events and plans. Not only for the castle, but for the village. We will host a fair, races, and your mother has plans to bring in actors.”

“You did all this without consulting me first?” James asked, pushing a hand through his hair.

His father drew himself up to his full height, still three inches shorter than James’s six-foot frame. “Have I need to consult you before planning entertainments at my expense?”

“When the entire goal of said entertainment is to procure a wife for your son, one would think the son worth consulting.” James moved away, dropping both hands to his side and trying not to curl them into fists. He’d ignored the lectures too long, it would seem, if his father had moved to the desperate point of planning what would amount to a search for a bride, bringing willing ladies to the castle to act as the quarry to James’s reluctant hunt.

“James,” his father snapped, and James turned to see the dark frown on his father’s lined face. It wasn’t anger he saw, though a stranger might mistake the wrinkles in the baron’s forehead as impatient furrows and the flat set of his mouth as a warning. James knew better. “The guests are invited. We are doing this for the good of the family. And for you.”

No, his father wasn’t angry. He was worried. And getting older. A grandson and heir would no doubt ease his mind about the future of Castle Amoret and the title.

James’s shoulders fell. He didn’t have the heart to argue. What was done was done. “I understand.” He took in a deep breath. “I will do what I can to ensure our guests enjoy their time at Castle Amoret.”

“Thank you, son.” Apparently satisfied, and perhaps realizing any further conversation would be detrimental to the already precarious calm, Baron Retford took his leave.

Try as he might, James couldn’t escape the truth that his aging father simply wanted to see him settled and secure before he passed. When viewed in that light, the baron’s plans seemed almost thoughtful, even in their misguidedness.

James waited until his father’s footsteps receded down the corridor before collapsing back into the chair. Marriage and duty. Always his father’s refrain.

James yearned to live as he chose, unburdened by the demands of society and family. But as the eldest son, he had obligations he couldn’t ignore, no matter how he chafed against them. With a sigh, he picked up his book again, but as he stared at the page, the words blurred together. He could not stop thinking about what this would mean for his summer. The idea of being paraded before a bevy of eligible women left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Glancing at the stained glass again, he studied the shift of light on the carpet. For a moment he allowed himself to picture a different life, one where he chose his own bride and followed his own passions rather than duty. Yet the next instant he thought of his mother’s hopes, his sister’s dependence on a settled line of inheritance, and the stability his marriage would bring to both. His future wasn’t the only one at stake.

He shook his head with a rueful smile.

Daydreams would get him nowhere.

Setting the book aside, James stood and straightened his coat. He would play the part his father required and smile through the coming parade of eligible young ladies, even if he held no hope of finding one he could truly call a match.

He would spout pleasantries, engage in meaningless conversation, and endure the entertainment his mother had arranged. He would smile and play his part, concealing his bitterness behind a mask of cheerful obligation.

With grim resignation, James steeled himself and left the library, along with his personal wishes, behind. What choice did he have but to endure what he could not avoid? This was yet another duty to tick off his list, another thing to suffer in silence. And then, with luck, it would be over.

CHAPTER TWO

As the day unfolded, the countryside came alive with summer’s simple pleasures. It was for this reason that Jessica Westcote most enjoyed her afternoon rides with her friend and neighbor, Catherine Aldwick. Everything around them, from birds to the long-stemmed wildflowers, was vibrant and bright. Summer called to a part of her soul in a way no other season could.

Endless meadows, resplendent in deep shades of green, sprawled all around them, creating a tapestry of lushness that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Jessica Westcote’s gelding pranced beneath her, his muscles rippling beneath the sunlight. The wind tousled her sun-bronzed curls as she rode alongside Catherine. Their voices carried on the breeze as their horses effortlessly navigated the familiar paths through the rolling hills. The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves echoed in harmony, as if the horses themselves were in tune with the two friends.

Sometimes, Jessica envied her friends’ classical beauty, with delicate features in her softly rounded face. Her skin was quite fair, and as prone to freckle as Jessica’s was to darken to brown. Catherine also had the good fortune to have soft brown eyes. Jessica’s own eyes were a shade of gray that reminded her of a drizzly rain and did little to compliment her hair which was an indeterminate color between brown and auburn.

“Isn’t the sunshine lovely?” She tipped her face upward toward the sky. “I love the summer.”

“Spoken like someone who has never had to endure a freckle.” Catherine shuddered and adjusted the brim of her riding hat, the very thought of freckles enough to make her concerned.

Jessica tried to reassure her friend. “Perhaps they will one day come into fashion.”

“I find that most unlikely.”

“Yet you attempt to give me hope that one day my particular oddities will be admired,” Jessica reminded her. Her nose was longer than she liked, but she supposed it looked well enough in her oval-face with its too-noticeable cheekbones.

She didn’t have the gentle curves that made her friend’s gowns drape perfectly at bosom and hip.