The answer is obvious, as my feet are wet, and I nod.
“Yes, I was in town for a bit.”
Her mouth is pinched in disapproval. “Richard has been hunting for you.”
A wave of dread floods me at the mere thought of my betrothed.
Pale, with icy eyes and cold hands. The only thing colder is his heart.
His bitterness pulses through his veins and chills his blood with unhappiness.
“Very well,” I tell Eleanor. “I’ll find him.”
I turn and head toward Richard’s wing, the wing I’ll have to share with him when we marry. I must force my feet to move because they don’t truly want to carry me even one step closer to him. But before I know it, I’m standing in front of his door, and I knock with a cold, cold hand.
He answers with a voice even colder.
“Come in.”
My heart is heavy as I approach him, and when he turns to me, I have to force myself to meet his gaze.
“Olivia,” he says curtly, without sparing me even a simple glance. I think this might be what I hate the most about him. He acts as though I’m so unimportant, as though I don’t matter. He can’t spare a second to look at me.
I wait, and he continues, all the while re-arranging the ties in his closet.
“What do you think of this one?” He holds up a paisley green. I hate it, so I nod.
“It looks perfect.”
“I think so too.” He laces it under his collar and steps to me. “Tie this, please.”
My fingers do his bidding and he examines my handiwork in the mirror.
“A bit crooked, but it will do.”
Of course he would say that. The knot is perfect, but he will never acknowledge something good in someone. That’s not his way, or his mother’s.
He finally glances at me for a scant moment.
“You’re wet. Have you been out?”
I nod, and I feel like a meek mouse, awaiting punishment.
His face clouds over, but he contains it. “Why?”
“I needed a walk,” I offer.
Richard rolls his eyes. “Then walk on these grounds. Lord knows we have plenty of them. There is no need to walk into town, Olivia.”
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.”