Page 5 of The Truth Serum
“I don’t intend to,” she said, some of her pique showing through.
“And you won’t,” Fletcher returned, “I’ll make sure of it. Henry has given me total control over the selection.”
Unfortunately, that was true. Her oldest brother despised London, hated the social rounds, and wanted nothing more than to live in the country with his books. He knew as little as possible about the peerage and would follow Fletcher’s advice in such things.
Nevertheless, she’d had to draw clear lines with both brothers over the years, and this was the clearest, darkest line she could imagine.
“You’re not picking my husband,” she said, her voice firm.
He sighed, the sound coming from deep inside him. “You want a husband, don’t you? You don’t want to molder away as a spinster, do you?”
“No,” she admitted. “I don’t, but—”
“Then you must let me guide you or you’ll end with a fortune hunter or worse.” His expression softened as he gave her a tender smile. “I will get you what you want. I promise.”
“I’m twenty-seven. I know my own mind.”
“Your mind killed our father,” he shot back.
And there it was. The one thing she could never outgrow, outrun, or forget. Finding her and Nate half naked together had so shocked her father that he’d had a heart attack anddied. From that moment on, nothing was the same. Suddenly burdened with the title, Henry had retreated into books and management, rarely to be seen beyond the borders of their estate. Fletcher had turned controlling, as if only he could manage things without disaster. Any deviation from his plans brought out his vicious temper.
Mama was the least changed. She’d relied on her husband for most things before. She now relied on her sons. And Rebecca was relegated to the one who had made the mistake, the one who had destroyed their family with her misjudgment. And the hell of it was…perhaps they were right. If what Fletcher had just said was true, then she truly did have terrible taste in men.
Before she could say anything more, the mantle clock chimed the hour. Fletcher looked up with a grimace.
“Damnation, I’m late.” He pushed to his feet and pressed a quick kiss to their mother’s cheek. “Mama, do get some rest. The Season will be taxing for you, I know. And Rebecca…” He patted her arm. “I hate that I have to disillusion you this way. I truly do, but never fear. I’m looking out for you. I’ll see you married to someone worthy of our family.”
Rebecca matched his movements, standing up to face him squarely. Or as squarely as she could, given that she was several inches shorter than he. “Fletcher, I know you mean well, but—”
She saw anger flash across his features, and she tensed. After their father had died, he’d had violent outbursts, but as far as she knew, he hadn’t thrown anything or hit anyone in years. Still, the memory of his rage remained stark in her mind, so she offered him a conciliatory smile.
“Fletcher, I surely will listen to your advice.” That’s the most she could promise.
“I will take care of you,” he said, the tightness in his jaw abruptly fading. “But of course, your wishes will be consulted throughout the process.”
“Do you swear it?”
“Of course!” He pressed a hand to his heart. “Really, Becs, you wound me. And after all the trouble I’m going to on your behalf. I want you to have a lovely Season. I want you to marry well. You’ll be such a beautiful bride.” He grabbed her hands and drew them up to his mouth. “You’ll love the gentleman I’ve selected. I’m sure of it.”
Gentleman? Singular? “Who is he?”
“You’ll meet him tomorrow night.” He grinned. “I won’t spoil the surprise.”
Of course not. Fletcher did love the dramatic. “What if I don’t like him?” she pressed.
“Then I’ll find another one for you somewhere. Someone worthy of you.”
“Thank y—”
“But you must understand that the field is shrinking. There aren’t many gentlemen interested in an old wife.”
“I’m not—”
“I’ve got it all arranged!” he said with excitement as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It’s going to be a whirlwind Season.”
“A whirlwind?” her mother gasped. “Oh, I hope my health is strong enough for it.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here,” he said. “Brothers are perfectly acceptable escorts.” And with that, he whooshed out the door.
