CHAPTER 542: WHAT ARE THE ODDS? (3)

Alex was the first one up from his seat, his eyes looking at his son’s disappearing back.

"I’ll go check on him." The father and son rarely had moments together, and Alex felt that this was the time to have such a talk, but Alicia followed suit, pushing her chair back and then standing.

"Let me,"

Geneva looked at both and sighed,

"Alex, let Alicia go. She needs to bond with Brad anyway."

Alex was somewhat hesitant, but what Geneva said made sense, so he sat back down, sighing. Ian continued feeding his wife as if he hadn’t noticed what was happening at the table. The children obediently refrained from interrupting what was going on. Even Gabriel had taken his seat and was obediently taking his meal.

Meanwhile, outside, poor Brad exited one of the side doors into a garden. He found himself a bench and sat down, holding his head in his hands.

"Am I really engaged to someone Mum picked? Did I just get ambushed into a relationship like a business deal? Why today of all days and why her?! Was she part of the plan, too?!"

The words made no sense to Brad himself. Examining his state of mind, Brad found — somewhat to his own surprise — that he wasn’t exactly disturbed by the idea of marriage.

That was secondary to his confused state. Nor was he opposed to Alicia herself. What grated at him, like a shirt too tight around the collar, was the sheer forcefulness of it all. He had come for a reunion breakfast and ended up engaged. How ridiculous was that? The expectation and the assumption were stifling.

"Gert a grip, Brad!"

He reprimanded himself, remembering that after all, he had stood in as the groom for his brother.

"Ian was hung up on Aliya when I had married Shelby on his behalf, so what excuse or complaints do I have? What right do I even have to voice an objection when the arranged marriage plans have been drawn up in my presence? They gave me a say, even if it’s nothing!"

He let out a slow, frustrated sigh, dragging both hands through his hair, fingers splayed like a man trying to find an escape hatch in his thoughts.

"Could I have said No? Should I have said no?"

Then Brad answered the question,

"I never stood a chance against Ian. He made it sound like I had a choice, but I don’t!"

Another voice said at the back of his mind,

’Ian didn’t have a choice back then either, but he is more than happy today! Shut your trap and man up to the situation!’

But Brad wasn’t ready.

Not for a wife.

Not for the responsibility.

He was not ready to give up his freedom.

Not now.

But then, there was her...

That brunette. That woman was not what he had expected.

He knew of her already. She was in her thirties, graceful and composed, a governess by title, which was just on the level of the workers in the mansion. Brad would never have given her the time of day, but something about the way she moved, the calm command she carried, suggested roots that ran deeper than modest backgrounds and that had been confirmed at breakfast.

’This is the daughter that Carmichaels had been offering to me? Why hadn’t he just shown me a picture of her? All this hullabaloo would not have happened!’

Her clothes were simple, yes — always neat, always proper — but her posture spoke of ballroom etiquette and long-suppressed luxury. She carried herself like a woman trained to walk among nobility, not nursery corridors.

It had been impossible to ignore.

Alicia, or rather the name more familiar to him, Fanny, always presented herself most peculiarly. Her clothes were usually plain: a high-collared, buttoned blouse with lace trim, a modest dark dress layered over it.

But nothing could disguise the polish in the way she carried herself. It was in the arch of her neck, the slight tilt of her head when she listened to the three brats, and the poise that clung to her like delicate perfume.

Brad lay on the bench, gazing up at the blue sky with sparse clouds, and remembered the first time he had seen her. He had visited the three brats in their makeshift homeschooling room on one of those rare occasions when Aliya was nowhere to be found. Fanny had looked up from tying a little ribbon for Ingrid, and their eyes had met — hers a bright, unguarded brown that held no fear, no flattery — just... honesty.

Most maids would have lowered their eyes immediately, but she did not.

This had thrown him off balance. Brad had felt seen that day in ways he couldn’t explain. He had left that day wondering who she was — and why he cared.

Her skin had that soft, porcelain sheen, as if untouched by time or stress, and her hair — a deep chestnut brown — spilt down her shoulders like liquid silk. This seemed unusual for someone of her rank, and that was why it had stood out to Brad. That day, sunlight caught it, and something within his chest was stirred as well. However, Brad would never admit this to anyone.

Unlike the other maids, Fanny stood out because she wasn’t coy or seductive. There was no effort to impress. That’s what made her even more disarming.

Brad hadn’t meant to watch her that day, but he had. He remembered how the children leaned into her comfort as if it were instinct. She served as a mother when Shelby was unavailable. Her touch was gentle but confident. She was a governess, yes... but she moved like someone who had chosen the job, not fallen into it.

And though Brad would never admit it, he had gone back a few times to ’check on the kids,’ but only he knew what his subconscious sought. Surprisingly, unlike his past relationships, Brad had never considered sleeping with Fanny. In fact, he fooled himself into believing that he was just looking for an outlet for his stress with all that was happening.

Now, that same woman was set to be his bride in a bizarre way.

And somehow, that realization didn’t sit as poorly as it should have.

Brad exhaled deeply, eyes narrowing with conflicted curiosity. The corners of his mouth twitched in something between amusement and dread.

"Bloody hell," he muttered again, voice low and unsure. "What do I do with a woman like that?"

And yet, even with this, Fanny refused to vanish from his mind’s eye.

"A woman like what?"

A firm, feminine voice asked from the direction that Brad had come from, causing him to jump up from the bench.

"What the hell!"

Fanny finally caught up to Brad near the old stone archway, flanked by vines, with a few benches. This garden was breathtaking, but this was not what Fanny wanted to dwell on.

"Erm, Fanny! —"

Then, "Wait! What are you doing here?"

Brad’s voice was a little too loud in that moment, and he realized that as well. He smiled sheepishly.

"I — uh — about earlier ..."

Fanny gave him her full attention, still calm ....

"Yes, Master Brad, I believe we need to have a talk?" She dropped the subject of his earlier statement, as she also thought it was rude to eavesdrop on private thoughts.

He winced. "Don’t call me that. Especially not now."

A faint smile curled her lips. "Habit. Sorry."

He took a deep breath, planting his hands on his hips. "Look, I just wanted to say — I’m sorry that you had to come out and all the way here, also, about breakfast. That ambush was not planned. I didn’t even know Mum and Ian had... intentions."

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean intentions to marry you and me off like that?"

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, before cringing. "I mean — no! I mean ... it’s all so confusing and I don’t want you to...."

Fanny chuckled softly and turned back to the flower bed, running her fingers along the edge of a leaf. She played with it for a while and then,

"Am I that unlikable?" she asked, her voice soft but direct.

"Yes," Brad started before her words sank in, his eyes opened wide at the response he had involuntarily given.

"NO! I mean NO!"

He turned sharply, meeting unwavering eyes.

Her words weren’t self-pitying. It was just... honest.

He blinked, caught off guard by the question — and by how composed she looked saying it.

"I — what?" he stammered.

Fanny’s gaze didn’t flinch.

"Well, you look like the world has come to an end since I accepted this engagement ... and you keep looking at me like I’m a burden you didn’t sign up for. So, I’m asking... am I?"

There it was again—that stillness. That unnerving ability to say what she meant without shrinking back. She wasn’t loud, but her presence filled the place all the same.

He let out a slow breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "No. You’re not... unlikable."

Her brow lifted slightly. "Just unwanted, then?"

’What the hell was she driving at? She was backing him into a corner!’

This made Brad feel like he was being a jerk, all without doing anything!

The words hit harder than she likely meant them to. Or maybe she had meant it. There was a flicker of something vulnerable in her eyes now, though she tried to keep her expression neutral.

Brad found himself closing the gap between them before reconsidering. "You’re not unwanted either. It’s just — this whole thing... it wasn’t meant to be like this."

"Well, then that leaves one option only... let’s break this off. I’ll go back in there and tell your family that I didn’t mean what I said. They can find another bride for you...."

"Ok,"

Fanny stood up and had only taken a step before the words sank in for Brad,

"Wait, WHAT?!!!!!"

Somewhere behind the hedges, a figure was all smiles, looking at them.

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