Gathering her composure with a swift breath, Sadie gracefully rises to meet her father's presence. "It's rather late, father. Is everything all right?"
Edwin's demeanor softens as he regards his daughter with a tender gaze. "Indeed, my dear. I merely wished to ensure that you have found peace."
Sadie tenderly kisses her father's cheek, grateful for his steadfast affection. "I am well, father. A restful night's sleep will set everything to rights."
A warm smile graces Edwin's features as he regards Sadie with paternal pride. "Splendid." He begins to depart but stops to add, "Charles has expressed his desire to court you, with intentions of eventual matrimony. I am inclined to approve of this union."
"What if I do not harbor affection for him?" Sadie's inquiry is swift, her apprehension veiled beneath a veneer of courage.
Edwin's laughter ripples gently through the room. "Love, my dear, is a blossoming flower that requires time to bloom. What matters most now is your safety and security. Charles, I believe, is the epitome of such assurance."
"But father—" Sadie's protest is halted by Edwin's gentle hand raise.
"I do not expect you to wed him tomorrow, Sadie. Merely give the notion a fair chance." Edwin bids his daughter farewell with a reassuring yet firm smile, his departure marked by the soft click of the door closing behind him.
The following morning, as golden sunlight spills through the windows, Sadie awakens to the gentle sounds of someone moving about in her room. Startled by the unexpected presence, she sits up abruptly, expecting to find Elise drawing back the delicate lace curtains.
To her surprise, Mrs. McCarthy, the family's devoted supervising housekeeper, greets her with a warm smile and cheerful greeting. Sadie, momentarily confused by Elise's absence, voices her bewilderment.
"Where is Ms. Brooks? I thought she would be assisting me," she questions, her brow furrowing in perplexity.
Mrs. McCarthy busies herself with arranging Sadie's mother's jewelry, which had been hastily discarded on the dressing table the night before.
"I sent her to the market, my dear," Mrs. McCarthy explains, her tone apologetic. "Mr. Sinclair didn't inform me that we would be entertaining guests today, and Chef required additional fruit."
Disappointment washes over Sadie. Her thoughts mingle between her encounters with Charles and Elise in the gazebo and Elise in her bedroom.
"Come, dear," Mrs. McCarthy urges as she guides Sadie out of bed toward the wardrobe. "We must get you dressed before Mr. Harrington arrives."
Reluctantly, Sadie casts aside her velvet and lace blanket, the fabric whispering softly against the polished wooden floor as she rises from the comfort of her bed.
"I believe your mother's yellow Maison Félix dress will be perfect for an afternoon stroll. They say the weather will be delightful today," Mrs. McCarthy suggests, her voice loaded with laughter and kindness.
As Sadie settles into the plush dressing table chair, the same chair where Elise's tongue awakened feelings in Sadie's body she had never felt before just hours ago, Mrs. McCarthy's fingers weave through her chestnut locks, the gentle tug of the brush accompanied by idle chatter about the promising weather that awaits.
Sadie quickly recognizes the subtle orchestration of her father's intentions in Mrs. McCarthy's actions, knowing full well that Charles's anticipated visit today has prompted this meticulous attention to her appearance.
Yet, as she gazes at her reflection in the ornate mirror, Sadie finds herself confronted not by her own likeness but by a distorted image of the woman her father wishes her to become—now cloaked in the somber hues of obligation and expectation.
As Mrs. McCarthy bustles off to the kitchen, Sadie remains in front of the mirror, her reflection a battleground for her heart and mind.
Thoughts of her father and his unyielding expectations for her to conform to society's demands flood her mind. She recognizes the limited options before her, yet the notion of fulfilling her father's wishes with Charles Harrington, despite his occasional charm, turns her stomach. His reputation as a playboy sharply contrasts the life she envisions for herself.
Remembering Charles's daring kiss in the gazebo, Sadie concedes to the momentary weakness it stirred within her. But in truth, it pales in comparison to the sensations Elise evoked within her.
With a sigh, Sadie closes her eyes, surrendering to the lingering memories from the night before. The sensation of Elise's touch loiters on her skin, each caress igniting a fire within her. The memory of Elise's intimate gestures, the gentle brush of her fingertips, and the tantalizing flick of her tongue leaves Sadie yearning for more.
"Whatever shall I do?" Sadie murmurs to herself, the words echoing softly as she descends the marble staircase.
The house buzzes with activity, the lingering traces of last night's dinner swept away, leaving only a scattering of elegant lavender and rose bouquets.
Sadie finds her father engrossed in the morning papers in the breakfast room. As she enters, he looks up, a smile gracing his features. "There she is. You're positively radiant, my dear."
"Thank you, Father," Sadie replies, sinking into a plush velvet chair adorned with intricate carvings and decorative fringe. "Have you already eaten your breakfast?"
"I have indeed," Edwin replies, stealing a quick glance at his pocket watch. "I must be off. Early meeting at the bank."
Sadie nods understandingly. Her father's absence in the mornings is a familiar routine dictated by his demanding work.
With a tender kiss to her forehead, Edwin whispers as he exits the room, "Just give him a chance."
Sadie knows he refers to Charles, but another consumes her thoughts.
The house butler, William Jameson, enters with a tray of fruit and places it before Sadie with practiced grace.
"Thank you, William," Sadie acknowledges, popping a delicate green grape into her mouth. "Has Ms. Brooks returned from the market yet? I require her assistance with something," she adds, striving for an air of nonchalance.
"Not yet, ma'am," William replies smoothly. "However, Mrs. McCarthy did instruct her to return promptly. Mr. Sinclair has requested Ms. Brooks accompany you on your stroll."
A sharp intake of breath accompanies Sadie's surprise, the grape catching in her throat at the unexpected news. The notion of Elise escorting her on a stroll with Charles is decidedly unsettling.