Arranged: An Array Series (Book #1)(64)

I wanted to dissolve into a puddle. Even though I knew he would ask me, I still felt helpless. He didn’t know that my heart was somewhere else, occupied by another man who was no longer available. Or that it was in a million pieces, and I hadn’t even begun picking them up.

I tried to find the right words, any words that would soften the blow. I didn’t want to be his wife, lose my freedom, and lock myself down with a man I didn’t love. I was still waiting, not knowing how George and I would even pan out.

“My Lady, please…” Ashton carried on. “I do not expect an answer now. I see I’ve shocked you. But if you would be so kind as to think on my offer. I promise you will be able to live your life, just as you are now. You will gain a daughter and a husband to hopefully, one day, love in return.”

I found my voice and spoke softly. “Lord Ashton, I am—”

“Owen, please,” he begged. He looked at me like I held the answers to the world.

“Owen,” I repeated. “I am very fond of Emma, and you are a very thoughtful man to ask me to marry you, but—”

“But?” he echoed. I bit the inside of my cheek at his interruption. It was hard enough to tell him ‘no’ in a kind way.

“I’ve only recently gained my freedom back, and—”

“You can do whatever you please. Run the business, start a new one. Whatever your heart desires, I will support it.”

I cleared my throat. “That is a very agreeable notion, thank you. I just don’t think I am ready to—”

“I understand, you need to think about it.”

God, why couldn’t he have shown interest in Evelyn.

The dining room door opened, and Lord Reddington peeked his head around it. “There the two of you are,” he announced, breaking through the awkward tension. “I was beginning to think Lord Ashton may have gotten lost. Good job in finding him, Lady Ava.”

Lord Ashton fixed him with an annoyed look. “I did not get lost. I was speaking with Lady Barlow in regard to an important matter.”

“Important matters, eh,” Reddington repeated. “Lord Barlow would like to start the next course.” He looked straight at me as I released an exhale.

“By all means, of course.” I gestured to the door. “I can’t deny him the meal he has looked so forward to.”

I gave Lord Ashton a weak smile and walked past Reddington, who held the door open. Reddington followed me and closed the door, not waiting for Ashton to join us.

“You look flustered, my dear. Are you quite all right?” he asked, concern and curiosity lacing his voice as we walked toward our party.

“I wish I was a man,” I said, thinking out loud, as he pulled out my chair.

As I sat, he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Well, I’m glad you are not. Men are abominable creatures. You, my dear, are lovely.”

I chuckled. “There is that charm I knew you were capable of, my Lord.”

Reddington stood up. “There is more to know about me, Lady Barlow.”

He walked around the table and back over to his chair, keeping his gaze on me the whole time.

“Where is Lord Ashton?” Papa asked, impatiently waiting for his next plate.

“I believe he got lost in the house somewhere,” Reddington guessed, smiling at me. I covered my mouth and closed my eyes, keeping my laughter contained.

“Oh, for Femme Fatale’s sakes,” Papa sneered, to no one in particular. Summoning a servant to fetch Lord Ashton, Papa tapped his fork on the table. He returned, moments later, not speaking much more during the meal.

After dinner, we all retired to the parlor for brandy and coffee. Lord Ashton made his excuses shortly after, stating he needed to get home to little Emma while Eve matched Lord Reddington in chess. Papa and I laughed and talked, relaxing with our beverages like we always had. This was something I could live with for the rest of my life; these peaceful, relaxing moments.

∞∞∞

My small victory was short-lived when I came downstairs in the morning to find white daisies from Lord Ashton. Thinking I was done with having to worry about him again, the daisies taunted me with false hope. Clenching my teeth, I made my way to the kitchen and heard Mrs. Reynolds humming softly to herself. Her apron covered in flour, she peered up at me and smiled.

“Mornin’, dear,” she sang.

“Good morning,” I replied flatly, sitting on a stool at our long countertop.

She raised a brow. “Coffee?”

I rub my forehead. “I’ll take the whole pot, please.”

Mrs. Reynolds wiped her hands off her apron, then turned on her heel and sauntered over to the stovetop. “Who are the flowers from?”

I sigh. “Lord Ashton.”

Picking up a mug and the pot of coffee, Mrs. Reynolds returned to the counter. “Oh? Well, it isn’t your birthday, so what’s the occasion?” I could hear the teasing tone in her voice.

I frowned, narrowing my eyes at her. “You know why he sent them.”

“Trying to take you off the market, eh?” she jested, pouring the piping hot liquid into my cup with a smirk. Mrs. Reynolds shrugged, adding milk and sugar. “Can’t blame the man for trying.”

“I already told him that I wasn’t interested.”

“Maybe he thought you were playing hard to get.” She slid my mug over, picking out a lemon muffin from the basket on the table, and placing it in front of me.