To Dare a Rogue - Lana Williams (novels for beginners TXT) 📗

up in surprise from the breakfast table the following morning as her father hobbled into the room. Based on his frown and awkward gait, his painful gout had flared once again. A footman was directly behind him, carrying a stool on which to rest his foot.

“Good morning, Father,” Charlotte said from her chair even as her stomach tightened. His presence did not bode well as he rarely joined her for the morning meal.

“I can't say that it's good, but it is certainly morning,” he responded, not bothering to look at her.

Pain furrowed his brow, making him look older than his six and ten years. His grey hair was combed back, emphasizing his receding hairline. With a long, narrow face that looked perpetually pinched, thin lips, and a hooked nose, he was not a handsome man.

The footman pulled out his chair then helped ease it forward after her father sat. Then the servant hurriedly knelt to place the footstool under her father's foot.

Charlotte knew better than to ask how he was feeling. That would only bring about a reprimand of some sort. In all honesty, when her father was feeling so poorly, she much preferred he keep to his bedchamber. No matter what she said or did, it didn't seem to please him when he was in good health let alone when he was in pain.

The footman glanced at him as if to make certain the stool was properly placed. At her father's nod, he stood and moved toward the sideboard to fill a plate while the butler poured her father a cup of coffee.

Her mother was convinced the coffee her father was so fond of contributed to his gout. Charlotte wasn't certain, although many claimed a rich diet with too much meat worsened the problem. She was wise enough to keep her opinion to herself. Long ago, she’d given up trying to make suggestions on the topic as it only angered her father more.

She reached for her tea, certain he would share the reason for his presence. Whether she would be able to finish her breakfast depended on what he had to say. There had to be a reason he’d roused himself from bed this morning. She returned her cup to its saucer and reached for her toast, hoping it would settle her stomach despite her nerves, even if the sausage and eggs half-eaten on her plate wouldn’t.

Her father sipped his coffee then took a bite of sausage before lifting his gaze to her, his black brows forming a bushy line above his eyes. Her stomach immediately clenched.

“I believe your mother has spoken to you.”

Though tempted to pretend she didn't know to what he referred it wouldn't be worth the effort. Better to have this conversation over and done with. Nothing he could say would change her mind, but she needn’t tell him that.

“Yes, she did.” The image of Lord Samuelson and the idea of speaking with him had her setting down the toast. There was simply no way she could marry the man. Not when the idea of seeing him briefly this evening made her ill.

James filled her mind as he had so often since their outing the previous day. If only Lord Samuelson were more like him.

“Are you listening?” Her father's irritated tone struck through her thoughts.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said you need to make it clear to him that you welcome his suit. I have a particular schedule in mind for his courtship of you, and it begins with this evening.”

Hadn't she just told James how important it was to hold on to hope? She couldn't sit by and allow her father to rule her life without making another attempt to make her opinion clear.

Refusing outright to consider the man as a husband would only anger her father. Surely easing into the conversation was a better option. “Father, while I appreciate your suggestion about Lord Samuelson, I don't believe we would suit.”

Her father scoffed, sending a bit of egg flying out of his mouth and onto the table. “And what do you know about such things?” He kept his gaze focused on the food before him.

“I know that marriage should be a partnership of sorts. It is important that we respect each other.” She knew her statement would fall on deaf ears. How ridiculous to bother making the point when her parents’ marriage was anything but a partnership.

Her father at last deemed to glance at her. “He'll respect you as soon as you give him an heir.” His claim only upset her stomach further.

She couldn’t prevent her lips from curling in disgust at the idea of kissing Lord Samuelson. How could she possibly share a bed with the man? “I doubt my manners will please him. Surely he would prefer someone quiet and biddable.”

“That is exactly what you will be.” He pointed his fork at her, his lips pursing into a thin line. “Quiet and biddable. How difficult can that be? You need only look at your mother for an example.” He returned his attention to his eggs.

“I don't think I can be either of those things. It would be unnatural for me to act that way when doing so doesn’t reflect who I am.” How could he not see that looking at her mother only made Charlotte more determined not to be that way?

“You will do as I say or pay the price.” Her father didn't bother to look up as he made the threat.

She already knew what the price would be. She'd have to remain in her room for the foreseeable future or until she agreed to do as he ordered. Her father’s wrath was nothing to invoke lightly, but this was her future they were discussing.

“But—”

“I have no idea what in your upbringing causes you to be so disloyal to your family, but I will not have it.” His heated glare had her biting back the rest of her protest. “You will do your duty as my daughter. Do I make myself clear?”

She hesitated,