The Texan's Engagement Agreement. Noelle Marchand
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they welcomed the guests to their extensive lawn and garden. Most of the attendees were far closer to being acquaintances than true friends. Part of that was her fault. Adelaide focused so much on the imaginary worlds she created with her pen and ink that she didn’t pay much attention to the real one. It didn’t help that she’d never felt as though she belonged in this world. Though society had been polite and welcoming, she was certain they knew it, too. After all, she wasn’t a Holden like her mother. She was simply Adelaide Harper—the daughter of a no-good traveling salesman.
“I think most of our guests have arrived,” Rose said, then nodded toward a small group of young men and women who were laughing together. “Adelaide, dear, why don’t you join that nice group of young people? Try to make some friends and, please, for my sake, don’t mention your books.”
Adelaide stiffened, then watched her mother walk away.
Everett stayed behind to give her arm a gentle squeeze. “She means well, Adelaide.”
Not in the mood for comfort or company, Adelaide shied from his touch and strode toward a hidden corner of the garden behind the greenhouse. This was her safe haven. An oak tree stretched its branches over an extremely comfortable wooden bench that she often curled up on to think or write or daydream. Today she paced in front of it. A familiar, slow-burning anger flickered to life inside her.
Why was it so hard to be the woman her mother wanted her to be? Perhaps it was because Adelaide didn’t like that woman. She was weak, superficial and controllable. She never dared speak her mind. She was boring and vapid. She was nothing like the person Adelaide used to be. The one she’d been in Peppin.
A smile tugged at her lips at the memory of the way she’d behaved the previous day—horribly. She’d kissed the last man on earth she should’ve kissed, right in the middle of his family’s store. She’d put up a fight when he’d dragged her into that alley. She’d certainly had no trouble venting her temper then. She’d come up with the idea to keep the story of their engagement going. And, great day in the morning, she’d enjoyed it—every bit of it. Well, except for the part where it had all come crashing down around her.
“Adelaide?”
She startled, then spun toward the voice to find one of her mother’s guests had followed her. It wasn’t just any guest, though. It was Bertrand Milney, the man Rose had been trying to pair her up with for the last three months. He fit all of her mother’s requirements to a T. He was successful, well-known in Houston’s elite circles, and...well, rather plain. Adelaide might not have minded that so much if they had some sort of innate connection, spark or even common interest. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. However, he’d always been kind and respectful toward her, so she’d done her best to be pleasant without actually encouraging his attentions.
His pale gray eyes latched on to her with concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Was there something you needed?”
“Just a moment of your time, if that’s all right.” He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and gazed at the stone pathway beneath his feet in deep contemplation. “You see, there comes a time in each man’s life where he begins to think quite seriously about his future.”
Oh, no.
“That future can never be complete without a proper companion—a wife.”
She sank to the wooden bench and barely held back a sigh.
“I’ve come to regard you fondly.” His lanky form bent down to one knee. “Your mother says that you’ve spoken of your feelings for me—”
“Oh, she did? I see. Did she happen to tell you what those feelings were?” Adelaide had told her mother more than once that she wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship with Bertrand.
“She didn’t have to say anything. I know you care for me, too, but please don’t interrupt.”
Her eyebrows rose. She bit her lip to hold back a laugh. This was the third proposal her mother had managed to procure for her in three years. So far, it was simultaneously the best and worst of the lot.
Adelaide was impressed by her mother’s effort. Only three months into the year and already she’d prompted a suitor to propose. She was far ahead of schedule. At this rate, she might be able to up the average.
Bertrand seemed to realize he’d made a mistake, for he winced. “It’s only that I’ve memorized everything. As I was saying...”
Suddenly, his words faded to mere background noise. Adelaide narrowed her eyes and tilted her head as she watched an intruder climb over the fence behind him, landing in the grass with a loud oomph. Straightening, the man brushed the dirt from his knees and the palms of his hands. She’d recognized him immediately, of course, and the flood of relief she felt upon being in his presence again was downright unsettling. She stood and walked toward him. “Chris Johansen, what in the world? What are you doing here? Why did you jump our fence?”
His blue eyes caught on hers. A sheepish grin tilted his lips. He lifted his chin in a quick greeting. “Hello there, Adelaide. Nice to see you again. Your servants refused to let me into the house without an invitation. My pa and I didn’t hop a train and come all this way to get turned away at the door.”
She shook her head. She wouldn’t allow herself to entertain any silly notions about his intentions—no matter how fast her foolish heart tried to race. “I don’t understand.”
“He wants to apologize, is all. I told him—” The sound of a throat clearing interrupted him. He glanced behind her and lifted a brow. “Am I interrupting something?”
Adelaide whirled to find Bertrand still kneeling before the bench with his elbow resting against his knee. A sapphire ring gleamed in his hand. Bertrand stood, his chest puffing out a bit. “You most certainly are. You’ve ruined my proposal. I’ve forgotten the entire thing.”
“Honestly, Bertrand, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t going to accept your offer of marriage.”
“Of course you were. Your mother gave me her blessing. She said you—”
Chris made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Your mother gave him her blessing. That’s rich.”
“Excuse me?” Bertrand glared at Chris, then turned to Adelaide. “Is he why you’re turning me down? Who is this man to you? Some secret beau? Is that why you were hiding back here? You were planning to meet him, weren’t you?”
“I was...” Her adamant protests died a sudden death at the birth of a new idea. Oh, she shouldn’t. She couldn’t. Well, she could, but she really shouldn’t.
It had worked for Chris, though, for almost four years. Imagine the progress she could make on her career in four long years! She’d be entirely independent by then. All she had to do was put on a convincing show while Chris was here, which surely wouldn’t be for long. When he left, she’d be set. Her mother might not stop throwing other men at her. However, Adelaide would be able to tell those men she was taken, which should keep them from proposing. Rose would be absolutely livid about Adelaide’s choice of beau and possible groom...so much so that having a daughter settled down to the quiet life of a spinster writer would seem far more palatable in comparison.
Doing her best to hide the smile playing at her lips, Adelaide lifted her chin. She allowed the tears she’d held at bay all morning to well in her eyes. That gave her a tragic air as she said, “I’m sorry you found out this way, Bertrand. But, I suppose it’s only right that you know the truth. Just please...don’t tell my mother.”
Chris narrowed his eyes and turned to stare at Adelaide in disbelief. Her beautiful green eyes glistened with unshed tears. A cool wind tugged at her copper curls and teased the lace swags of her