Chapter Two: Terms of Engagement
476 Words
The garden was a labyrinth of roses, hedges trimmed to mathematical precision. Every petal, every leaf, seemed designed to impress. But Tasia felt suffocated.
Her arm rested lightly on Chase’s, as decorum required. His coat sleeve was stiff under her fingers, and he walked with the rigid posture of a man forced to attend a funeral.
They were alone, technically. Except for the servants watching discreetly from the veranda.
“Beautiful grounds,” he offered, his voice politely distant.
“Yes,” she said. “I grew up playing here.”
He nodded, glancing at the white marble fountain ahead. Two cherubs poured water from a stone urn.
“Your family spares no expense,” he added.
Tasia bit her lip. “You can say what you really mean. We’re both commodities to them.”
He winced. “Tasia—”
She let go of his arm, stepping a little ahead. Her skirts whispered against the gravel.
“Why won’t you talk to me properly?” she asked, turning to face him. “Tell me about yourself. Tell me anything real.”
Chase’s expression shuttered. He looked down, then up at the cloudless sky.
“I’m the heir to the Campbell fortune. I studied abroad. I speak three languages. I know how to dance. I know how to smile at the right people.”
She flinched at the bitter sarcasm in his voice.
“That’s not what I meant,” she said quietly.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You want me to confess? To make this easier for you? Fine.”
Tasia swallowed.
“I didn’t want this marriage,” he said, voice low and hard. “I had a life. Plans. Someone else.”
She felt the words like a slap.
“Someone you love?”
His jaw tightened.
She felt tears prick her eyes but forced them back. “So I’m to be your duty. Your compromise.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It seems very simple,” she whispered.
They stood in silence. The wind stirred the roses, making the petals tremble like they shared her grief.
Finally, he spoke, softer. “I’m trying, Tasia. I didn’t expect you to be…”
She blinked. “To be what?”
He met her gaze. For a heartbeat, the guardedness fell away. He looked lost.
“Kind,” he finished.
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
Before she could think of an answer, a servant appeared at the edge of the path.
“Miss Logan,” he said with a bow, “your mother requests you return inside. The Campbells will be departing soon.”
She forced composure back onto her face.
“Very well.”
She turned, not offering Chase her arm this time.
They walked back in silence, their footsteps muffled by the crushed white gravel.
- Writer
